Grief is sneaky like Poor Me and Discouragement.
She shows up unexpectedly and sometimes with no warning at all. All of a sudden, there she is and the sight of her knocks the wind out of you.
But there she is. Grief. She waves to me with a small smile and her face says that our meeting is inevitable.
The difference between Grief and Poor Me and Discouragement is that Grief is a healthy friend. She means me good and not harm. She knows I need her to get through the valley. Those other two…they want to hold me back. But not Grief.
So, even though spending time with her hurts…I know it’s for the greater good.
And so I start with Asher.
I have not forgotten that Nora is supposed to have her twin with her.
I have not forgotten those two little hearts beating. I have not forgotten the day that I found out that Baby B’s little heart stopped beating. I have not forgotten that he waits for us in heaven.
And sometimes I stare at Nora in awe and my heart breaks a little…because while she is my miracle baby and I am so, so grateful…I really also just want her twin too.
I’ve thought about Baby B, about Asher a lot lately. As Nora grows and the scary preemie nicu days fade away and she is just such a treausre, I wonder what Asher would’ve looked like. My heart aches remembering that she is one of two. What would he have looked like? Would he have been the warrior that she is? Would he have been snuggly and sweet like she is?
And I know, I know, I know…Asher’s passing gave Nora a bigger chance at survival, at thriving. I know that having two in the NICU and having two newborns at home while I still so slowly recover from my own version of Nora’s birthday would’ve been so much harder…but knowing that it would’ve been harder and scarier and all of that doesn’t mean I didn’t want them both.
I did. I wanted them both.
And now I won’t have any more babies. I am mostly okay with this, especially in my logical, sensible (you have six, you crazy woman!) part of my brain. But there is a pang. Because seven is a good number. And we almost had seven.
All I have to remember kid #7 is a few ultrasound photos.
So I pour Grief a cup of coffee and we sit together and we think about Baby B. And tears fall and I hold Nora and am so grateful for her. Thankful that I only have to grieve one of them because my other one is here safe.
I know I’ll see Grief again. I know she’ll be back by. She comes and she goes. Grief is not finite. But she brings with her hope. Because, if I let Him, God is present with Grief and God counts our tears as precious. And God brings joy in the morning.