Friday, May 23, 2008

Absolutely, uncontrollably grateful.

I'm not even sure what I am going to write here..I just know that I feel like I should be here...writing.

Weighing most heavily on my heart this evening is gratitude through grief. I am grateful for three girls. Three girls that are sweetly socked away in deep sleep in the next rooms.

I am so grateful that I am not sitting in a hospital somewhere praying for something mirculous to happen. I am so grateful that I am not contemplating the last breath or last rites of my child...I am not thinking of the dress that will clothe her or what shoes her sweet feet will be wearing or which side her braid should be on until she turns to dust... I am not picking out the sacred bed that will hold her head, or the men that will carry it on that day. I am not dreading the closing and locking of a door that should never have been made for her. I am not listening to the deafening sound of gut wrenching sobs or watching tissue boxes being passed. I am not choosing the song that will describe her life with me or her father. I am not worried about what I may have to wear when my eyes will try to drink in her every single cell for the very last time. I am not concerned about her father, who lives and breathes for his little pinks. I don't have to worry if he is coping or not coping or praying or not praying. I don't have to listen to everyone else's opinion of what should or should not be done. I don't have to do any of these wretched things. None.

But so many are doing that very thing right now. At this very moment, Mommies and Daddies everywhere have stopped the exact moment that their baby did. Hearts freeze and minds bend. Some even break. Mommies and Daddies everywhere at every moment of this day have had to surrender the care of their baby to her Maker and trust that this really is what is best, though it is the absolute worst.

Too many Mommies and Daddies are trying to reconcile questions with no answers and looking for some solace in a time of complete and total shock. Too many Mommies and Daddies are having to explain Heaven to a two year old that was promised a new baby sister. Too many Mommies and Daddies are having to gaze at the rocker in the brand new nursery whose monitor will never carry the sound of a newborn's wail. Too many Mommies and Daddies will never, ever step foot into that nursery again. Too many Grammas and Grampas and MeeMaws and Peepaws and Nannys and PopPops will have to watch their babies bury their babies and never know what to say.

And all I say, over and over again is when? When will you come, Jesus? When will the suffering end? When will we finally see what we have been promised and when will I stop aching to be there?

When I am. When I'm there, I'll stop aching.

Until then, I will pray. I will pray for those Mamas and Daddies that are experiencing broken, shattered hearts and dreams. I will pray for those sisters and brothers that don't understand why they are still here. I will pray that Grammas and Grampas and MeeMaws and Peepaws and Nannys and PopPops will know what to say...if anything at all.

And I will remember. I will remember the dates of life...dates of death and moments in between that are never erased from a Mama's mind and heart. My calendar has too many dates of remembrance. It pains me to think that June is just around the corner and July follows too closely.

So I will remember, and I will pray, I will laugh, I will cry, and I will suffer when you suffer. And I will be grateful. Absolutely, uncontrollably grateful.

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