It’s an example of irrational-mother-brain that I miss Sam the most on days when Abby is the worst behaved. It seems like those should be the days that I am most thankful to only have one child on my hands, right?
But the truth is, I have so many perfectly-fine days, I’m actually really thankful when things make me sad. I’ve been waiting for almost five months, thinking that any day now I’m going to feel the full force of my loss. I’ve been walking cautiously, always looking over my shoulder, thinking that grief will spring out at me like a wild animal that’s been hiding in the shadows. But the more days that pass, the more I wonder if there’s no animal in the woods after all, and I’ve already grieved at full capacity. That thought makes me feel like terrible as a mom and deficient as a human being.
I’ve thought at great length about how to actively remember Sam as part of our family with out being morbid, and this seems especially important in this season, in what should have been his first Christmas.
I’ve made him an ornament for our Christmas tree. We bought him presents–a goat and some chickens from the World Vision store, to be given to a needy family. We include his name when we pray with Abby every night and thank God for our family. His little footprints are on the wall above the mantel where our stockings hang.
But nothing seems to be quite enough.
A friend of mine recently delivered a healthy baby boy whose cord was tied in a hard knot. Last Monday I took Abby to play at a gym crowded with moms cradling round pregnant bellies or sporting babies snug in Moby wraps. Sometimes I want to wilt under the weight of the unfairness of it.
Pray for me, friends, that my heart would be full of the Baby Boy who WAS born at Christmas. “Come, thou long-expected Jesus…joy of every longing heart.”