Friday, October 27, 2017

The Fall Birthday

The baby we lost almost three and a half years ago would have been born this week.  While lost in thoughts of the three-year-old Fall birthday party that will never be, I watched my toddler who was lost in a world of bubbles and wonder.  If not for that fateful day in May when God allowed the heart that beat inside of me for 84 days to suddenly stop, this boy wouldn't be.  How I long to hold that sweet one, but then I wouldn't know the joy of a little guy who will stop in the middle of a temper tantrum to comfort someone if they pretend their crying.  I desire so much to get to hold the hand that we saw waving to us during an ultrasound only days before we miscarried, but then I wouldn't know the feeling of holding my smallest buddy's hand as we take our daily walk around our neighborhood.  I always wanted an Autumn baby, but then I wouldn't get to plan an Easter egg hunt on the birthday of our boy who reminds us daily of the new life that comes with Spring.  I wish to see our three-year-old playing in the yard with our other children, but then I wouldn't see our curly-haired tot looking mischievously at his siblings as he tries to ride his tricycle into the road.  I wonder what our family pictures would look like with a baby who was born in late October, but our family pictures are so special with the baby born in the middle of April. Our family is complete...and yet, it'll never be fully complete.  I will always be the mama of more than three children...it's just that most people who see our kids pile out of our minivan will never know that.

Grieving for a lost baby can all be a bit too much to take in, which is why I finally realized this:  There's no point in wondering why anymore.  It just is.  We'll never know why God chose us to walk this road.  Why He chose our family story to hold an indescribable pain that 1 in 4 families can understand.  We don't feel we should have been spared from this journey. Why should we have been?  We just wish it was different sometimes. Like when our 7-year-old questions why she can't have that sibling here with her.  Or when thoughts of the little life gone way too soon takes us by surprise. Or when our six-year-old - who almost never speaks of his sibling in Heaven -  randomly said yesterday that he wants to see the stone where "Izzy" (their name for the baby) was buried.  There is no stone.  No place that "she's" buried. That hurts.  Deeply.

However, I truly believe that some of life's greatest lessons and some of our most "prized" pieces of wisdom often come at great cost.  It's almost never fun in the process.  It's not fun now.  Yet, if it wasn't for this loss, I wouldn't relate to the suffering of so many women.  Like the grief of a precious friend who is remembering the loss she experienced on the very day that the doctor had said I would most likely give birth to the one we lost.  Why people release balloons for children they never got to really know.  That it's OK to say nothing "encouraging" when someone loses a child and only offer prayers.  I wouldn't understand that prayer needs to be said for those who long to hold their babies more in the quiet, nighttime hours than in the lively, daylight hours.  I wouldn't know the loneliness that comes with grieving for the one you never got to hold.  The desire to have something more than just a pregnancy test or ultrasound picture of the one you will always love but never get to see.

So this weekend I'll release two balloons with no fanfare :  One for our precious gift from God and one for the babies that were taken far too soon from family members and friends of ours.  We'll eat a birthday cupcake.  I'll pray that maybe for a second God will let our little one hear me say, "I love you."  And as my toddler enjoys his bubbles, I'll thank God for the miracle of life.  For the gifts He gives and the gifts He takes away.  For how He turns pain into understanding.  Sorrow into joy.  I'll never "get over" this loss but it definitely looks different now than it did at first.  God has answered this mama's prayer to turn this verse into reality and my awe and wonder of Him bubbles forth:

 He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. - 2 Corinthians 1:4

Happy Birthday, Izzy!  You are cherished and loved for always.



`