One-Month Reflections

Yesterday marked one month since Gracie's birthday. 

In many ways we have returned to our normal routine. We're both back to work, Eli is back at daycare, we're crying less and smiling more, I'm cooking dinners (on occasion)... though the house is still kind of a wreck. Cleanliness aside, the pieces of our little world here are falling back into place. The picture looks a little different now, but it's still functional and beautiful and gratitude-inspiring.

I still have an amazing, adorable, mischievous, maddening, endlessly lovable little boy - I just appreciate him more. My patience still wears thin, but I have a new mantra: "At least he's here, and healthy enough to be driving me insane." I am more present, never taking a moment for granted (or at least trying my best not to). Our snuggles last longer. I sit and simply watch him every chance I get. When he asks for a hug at an inopportune moment, he gets one - a big one. And when I watch him grab Gracie's picture before bed time, kiss her, and press her to his cheek for a "huggie", my heart soars with a love I never knew existed.

I still have a strong, loving, compassionate, God-fearing husband, who also happens to be an incredible father - I just love him more deeply. In these past two months we've been to the depths together. We've held each other, wept together, prayed together, made impossible decisions together, shared inappropriate laughter together, found reasons to smile together, drowned our sorrows in wine together, picked up the slack for one another, reassured one another... and we buried our baby girl together, side by side. Together. We've never been more together. I fell in love with him fourteen years ago, when we were just kids. I fell in love with him all over again when I watched him become a father. When I watched him become Gracie's father... When I watched him cry over her, bathe her tiny body, whisper to her, ensure her comfort and security through every step of her journey from my womb to her final resting place, and then finally watched him climb down in the dirt in his best suit to carefully lay her casket to rest... there are no words. I just can't tell you what that felt like, or how my love for him changed, or how I see him now, or how unbreakable our bond has become.

We still have the most supportive and caring group of friends and family anyone could ever ask for - we just learned that they are even more supportive and caring and generous and loving and compassionate and WONDERFUL than we ever knew. The meals, cards, flowers, financial donations, logistical help, visits, phone calls, messages... so many have gone so far above and beyond for us. Even complete strangers have come out of the woodwork to offer their help in various ways. My faith in humanity has been restored, but more importantly, my faith in God and His provision - through those who allow Him to use them - has been strengthened and deepened. He never ceases to amaze me.

There is still an exciting career unfolding in front of me - I'm just going to be a whole lot better at it. I now know a new kind of suffering, a new depth of faith, a new realm of empathy, and a loss so painful I still can't breathe sometimes. Despite the fact that I had to go through something I'd never wish on my worst enemy in order to arrive at this place, I know that it's going to make me a better doctor.

Most importantly, we still have two children - one just isn't here with us. One is in Heaven (or "Kevin", as Eli so innocently insists). One never had her photo taken flying down a slide or smashing birthday cake in her face. One was never nursed to sleep, never napped on her Daddy's chest, never kept her Mommy up all night. One left a hole behind. There is an Eli-shaped space in my heart that grows larger and yet still fills to overflowing each and every day. There is a Gracie-shaped space in my heart that she isn't here to fill, and that can only be filled by the reassurance of God's promises of comfort and healing. In all honesty, it hasn't been filled yet. Parts of that wound are still open, and though I try to protect them, it doesn't take much pressure to make them bleed. In one month's time I have come farther than I ever could have dreamed - God has carried me with a strength that I never knew existed, and instilled in me a grace that defies human capacity - yet I know that I am far from healed. That's ok, though. In my softened and malleable state, He is molding me. He is molding our entire family into something new. In many ways we are the same and have returned to a certain comfortable place, but in so many ways we are stretching and growing and changing shape, and I wouldn't have it any other way. That Grace-shaped hole in our family will never be filled, but the wounds in our hearts will heal and the work He is doing in us will be her legacy.

"For it is by grace you have been saved through faith--and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God." -Ephesians 2:8