Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I love that this YouTube video doesn't show the lyrics or other pictures. Because we probably all have our own visual.
For Me? My tiny baby safe in Heaven with my Savior. Who else could I ask for to watch over my little one?
But I do continue to cry "With Hope". Because grief is a process, one that I get the feeling is not complete until I die or Christ's new Kingdom has come. The first few lines of this song are so true. Even though I never got ot meet my baby, I had so many plans and hopes for the future. This was our second miracle baby. Levi was a miracle that he was conceived and that he lived. This baby was a miracle to be conceived. We were shocked, our little surprise. So why would God take that joy and miracle away? I think when I first wrote about the fact there was no heartbeat I said we wouldn't ask why. Well I was wrong. But I'm no longer asking why but simply grieving. I'm crying and missing my baby.
I was given a great book this week. "I will hold you in Heaven" Rememberance Book. And it has been a balm for my soul. At the same time it has opened up the wounds. Because in the joy and thankfullness of remembering Levi's birth and enjoying Christmas at home, I pushed aside my grief. I didn't have room to be grieving over two things. And so when I picked up this book, the wounds were opened and the tears shed. Because it validated everything I was feeling. That it was okay to hurt even though I had so few weeks of hoping for my baby. That my child is an eternal soul and it's okay to grieve.
Our culture as a whole belittles life. Any life, all life. But especially the unborn. Just another lie of the devil I suppose. So when you talk to a woman who's lost a child (and you will, we are many) remember that she desperately needs you to understand the value of what she's lost. A child. A human life that she was supposed to hold.
So I'm grieving. But I am healing too. It just doesn't look like I thought it would. But that's okay. Grief isn't pretty, it can be ugly. But it can also be beautiful. Because Beauty comes from ashes. God promises that.
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.”
So while I cry with hope, I also trust that Beauty is coming. It already is. But I must also mourn. So it's a process, one that the depths of my soul is involved in. And hardly anyone is allowed access there. So I'll keep blogging, but it may be slow as evidenced recently. The heaviness is there, but someday, there will be beauty.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Our Family right before leaving Levi's little space in the NICU...and Daddy and the nurse walking out of the NICU...
It's January 4, 2010.
One year ago today we were finally able to bring our little baby boy home. HOME. What an amazing concept after over a month of chaos and tears. Levi and I slept soundly the whole way home. Andrew thankfully got us there safely. It was past 10pm by the time we got home. And it was awesome.
I haven't kept up very well with Retelling about Levi's NICU days. You know why? Because that was last year. And it was awful. It ranks up there with one of the worst (and best) Christmases ever. Because we were alone in a NICU with our baby boy. I didn't want to live in those moments. I didn't want to grieve, I wanted to celebrate. And so we did.
This year? AMAZING. Not because anything spectacular occured. But yes, it did. We were together, with family, and I was in awe of Christ come as baby to become a man and save us from our sin. I was finally aware of the fear and awe and pain Mary must have felt. And so I rejoiced in my soul. I praised the Almighty God for His great mercy and for allowing us the grace of being home with our boy. Who had great fun unwrapping his presents by the way.
And so, today I remember the chaos, and the relief of finally being home. And I pray for all those who are waiting for their babies. Whether they be 2 pound micro preemies, or 20 somethings who are wandering far from home. May we all know the joy of not only bring our babies to our physical homes, but the joy of seeing them commit to Christ and the hope of a future home.
My prayer for us this year? To be aware of God's grace in every aspect of my daily life. And I bet you can guess the other one...