Its over.
I made it.
You have now been away from me for more than a year.
Can that much time really have passed since that dreadfully awful day?
On Sunday, the day of your birth, we decided to have some friends and family over. AnnaGrace called it your birthday party. I was not sure what to call it exactly. Whatever "it" was, it was good in that it kept me busy and didn't allow me to stay in bed all day. My theme for it was hope-- the hope we have that has been an anchor for us through this terrible storm.
Some very dear friends wrote letters to you and bought balloons and "sent" the letters up to you in heaven. AnnaGrace was thrilled to be the one to let the balloons go. But then, when we went inside, she almost cried. Helping her walk through the grief has almost been harder than walking through the grief myself.
After everyone left, we lit a candle and sang Happy Birthday to you. Your sisters all blew it out together. AnnaGrace had wrapped a gift for you. And so did I. So we unwrapped the gifts.
So I finished cleaning up and went to bed.
So, how do I feel about passing the one year mark? I am definitely a little relieved. I am definitely very sad. And I am thankful that we made it. There were days when I wasn't sure if we would make it. But we did! I've thought about if I could go back and meet the Julie that just found out that her precious baby had died-- I've thought about what I would tell her. And I think I would just give her a hug and say, "You will make it. It will be hard, oh so hard, but you will make it. Give yourself grace. Grace to grieve in the way you need to. Even if no one else understands. And keep your thoughts focused, not on the hopelessness of death, but on the promise of eternal life. Your son lives. Just not in your arms. You will make it."
Oh Isaiah, I think of you constantly. I miss you incredibly.
Much love,
Momma
What would you tell yourself if you could go back?
\Dear Julie,
ReplyDeleteYes, you will make it. How unbelievable it seems at that moment. How indescribably unbelievable. If death could come from sorrow, surely it should come now...
If I could go back I have no idea what I would tell myself. Probably just hug and cry with the me that hurts so much. And hope, yes, the hope we have. This solid rock, this cornerstone, this anchor.
And now I will always remember that Isaiah and Nathan share a birthday, one year apart.
And our children do exist. Just not here. It's so hard to remember sometimes in the darkness.
Much love to you
Em