Remembering With Hope

As there is anticipation for Grape Nut, there is also remembering each of our children's births. I (Renee) am finding it healing to remember, not just Emily's, but Joshua and Rachel's also.
With Joshua there was the newness of it all, full of wonder, fear, and curiosity. I remember the idealism I had as a first time parent. He'll be sleeping through the night at two weeks old, nursing will be a snap, and of course, I will always know why he is crying. Hehe. I'm glad that's over! A little wiser now, a little more humble.
I love seeing these pictures of Joshua. It was just me and him during the day. We went on lots of walks together, watching the snow melt (he was a March baby), seeing the different wildflowers popping up, and getting to know each other. He was a wonderful baby, easier than most, though I didn't realize it at the time.
Then there was Rachel. The thrill and surprise of having a girl, a daughter. I remember crying with joy as Rachel was placed in my arms. A girl! God had given us a girl! It might sound silly but one of the minor reasons of wanting a girl was that on my mom's side: my grandma, my mom, myself, and now Rachel are each 25 years apart from the next one. So when Rachel was born, I was 25, my mom was 50 and my grandma was 75. Kind of neat I thought.
Both Joel and I were more relaxed about Rachel. I think we enjoyed being parents a little more, having gone through it once with Joshua. But it was still different. There was a sibling waiting at home to help, to hold and to be held! Life went a little faster with two little ones. And there was more strengthening grace from God, more than I had experienced before. My love had multiplied, it was not divided between two children as I had thought it might be.

And then there was Emily. At 20 weeks pregnant began a journey neither Joel nor I had ever anticipated. It began with a routine ultrasound, a phone call from the doctor. "Renee, there might be something wrong with the baby's heart." I remember not breathing as I listened. I remember laying my head against the wall, the phone to my ear, the tears falling, my mind going blank. The ups and downs of that year are overwhelming and I could not have kept on without the solid grace of God and the prayers of His people. I was carried through as Emily Grace was born and I heard her cry for the first time. And they took her away. Four hours later I saw my little girl. I almost didn't want to touch her, was she really mine? The next nine days were indescribable and yet I was still carried. June 11th came. And I watched. I watched eleven highly educated people try and save Emily. But they couldn't. Emily slipped away, and woke up in the arms of Jesus. We said goodbye and drove home with three car seats, one of them empty.
We buried Emily at ______ Cemetery in _______ underneath a spruce tree. She has Juneberry trees on all sides of her. These trees bloom every June with beautiful white blossoms. There is a pinwheel on her grave, many "pretty" rocks from the kids and soon there will be a basket of Forget-me-nots. Her headstone is a large rock, about the size of her, from Lake _____. It has a butterfly on it; for she has flown away into a new life, waiting, with Jesus, for our turn to come home.

And so I await Grape Nut. The whirlwind of emotions that go on inside me each day are sometimes overwhelming. Will Joel and I really take this baby home, in her carseat? Will she be healthy or will she be like Emily? Will I say goodbye sooner than I care to, or will I bring her home to be a part of our family?

The joy of a new baby is shadowed by the sorrow of our third child. Yes we have hope. Yes we are excited. But it is a battle, an everyday one, to keep the sorrow at bay. To embrace sorrow is a difficult thing, to allow to be healed is surrender. But to constantly live in sorrow is a fight. For that is not where I should be. God has offered me hope and I wish to embrace it, but it is a choice I make every hour.