Sudden Pain
Today was a beautiful day! Not only was the weather incredible, but it is Easter, my favorite holiday. Without Easter life has no meaning, but that's a topic for another blog post.
The majority of our day was spent outside. We put an old comforter out on the front lawn and basked in the sunlight and warmth. The kids wrote stories, rode bikes, ran in circles and threw a Frisbee throughout the afternoon.
I sat and watched them with a joyful heart and complete contentment.
And then I had a moment.
As I watched my children play, I had an overwhelming feeling that something was missing. Well, not something, someone. I watched the kids and someone was missing. I counted: 1, 2, 3, 4..... yep, all there, and yet, somehow, it didn't seem right.
Someone was missing.
I expressed this thought out loud and Emily, in her typical poking way, replied that someone was indeed missing; a 3 year old Ugandan. I laughed because since her return to the US she has been pretty sure we need to adopt Jacob, the sweet boy that captured her heart.
I sat in silent longing for just a few moments when I glanced up and saw Gabe, playing with Isabel, and it was if all the air had been sucked out of me. I was missing someone.
We were missing a child that we never got to hold in our arms. A child that never felt the warmth of my kiss. A child that we will never know this side of Heaven.
And suddenly, I hurt.
What would Gabe's twin have been like? Would they have been best friends? Would Gabe have had a brother to play football with or a sister to ride bikes? Would he/she have had the same tender heart Gabe has or would they have blazed their own trail, knocking down anyone in his/her path?
Would our child have looked like the younger three or like Emily?
I will never know and in that moment, I hurt.
When I hurt, I cry.
I cried for what never was. I cried for what might have been. I cried the pain a mother feels when she longs for her child.
I cried.
I went inside, blew my nose, prayed, collected myself and went back outside, thankful for the blessings I do have.
Even the blessing that had just messed yet another diaper in his stubborn refusal to be potty trained.
Many men and women have been down the road of infertility, miscarriages, stillbirth or the loss of a child. Every story is different but painful to each one. Be sure to pray for them and love them, but never for a moment think they have "gotten over it." Sometimes the pain of a loss can appear suddenly, even on a sunny, warm day.
The majority of our day was spent outside. We put an old comforter out on the front lawn and basked in the sunlight and warmth. The kids wrote stories, rode bikes, ran in circles and threw a Frisbee throughout the afternoon.
I sat and watched them with a joyful heart and complete contentment.
And then I had a moment.
As I watched my children play, I had an overwhelming feeling that something was missing. Well, not something, someone. I watched the kids and someone was missing. I counted: 1, 2, 3, 4..... yep, all there, and yet, somehow, it didn't seem right.
Someone was missing.
I expressed this thought out loud and Emily, in her typical poking way, replied that someone was indeed missing; a 3 year old Ugandan. I laughed because since her return to the US she has been pretty sure we need to adopt Jacob, the sweet boy that captured her heart.
I sat in silent longing for just a few moments when I glanced up and saw Gabe, playing with Isabel, and it was if all the air had been sucked out of me. I was missing someone.
We were missing a child that we never got to hold in our arms. A child that never felt the warmth of my kiss. A child that we will never know this side of Heaven.
And suddenly, I hurt.
What would Gabe's twin have been like? Would they have been best friends? Would Gabe have had a brother to play football with or a sister to ride bikes? Would he/she have had the same tender heart Gabe has or would they have blazed their own trail, knocking down anyone in his/her path?
Would our child have looked like the younger three or like Emily?
I will never know and in that moment, I hurt.
When I hurt, I cry.
I cried for what never was. I cried for what might have been. I cried the pain a mother feels when she longs for her child.
I cried.
I went inside, blew my nose, prayed, collected myself and went back outside, thankful for the blessings I do have.
Even the blessing that had just messed yet another diaper in his stubborn refusal to be potty trained.
Many men and women have been down the road of infertility, miscarriages, stillbirth or the loss of a child. Every story is different but painful to each one. Be sure to pray for them and love them, but never for a moment think they have "gotten over it." Sometimes the pain of a loss can appear suddenly, even on a sunny, warm day.
Hugs t
ReplyDeleteThanks Tammy. Love and miss you!
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