March 24

Today is March 24th, 2013. I first laid eyes on this date, when I typed my conception date into a due date calculator, when I was just 4 weeks pregnant at the end of July 2012. Never would I have dreamed that on this date, I would open the bag of my daughter's cremation ashes, rubbing just a tiny bit of the fine powdery dust between my fingers in an effort to feel nearer to her. I am in the middle of the most nightmarish storm I have yet undertaken in this life.  I want to go back to the innocence of never knowing the pain of losing a child.  I want to go back to when due dates were happy days. I want to have my pregnancy innocence back. These desires will not be granted, and I don't know why. But I move ahead, choosing to trust Him in this storm. 

When I got up in front at Abbie's service and spoke of the impact of her brief life, I talked about how I have prayed the same words about each of my three children, "God, please don't take this child from me." I spoke of how His answer was "yes" with Isabel, "yes" with Josiah, and "no" with Abbie. I often play the series of events leading up to her birth and death over and over again in my mind, and I feel like my brain, soul, and spirit is being wrenched between two opposing and fiercely strong winds. Each is like a gale, whipping at my body, threatening to pull me off my feet, forcing me to completely surrender to the sheer power of it. The first gale is the absolute, unwavering assurance that God is good. He is good all the time, even when I don't understand Him, even when I sit on my couch for hours, unable to stop crying, months after the death of my child. The opposing gale is the one that wants to drag me down into the endless depths of the question "WHY?!?!" I still feel myself asking this question multiple times a day. Do I believe her life will have a legacy, a meaning, a purpose? Yes. But I struggle with the question of "Why?" because I don't yet quite know exactly what that legacy will be. I don't know how her life will touch others lives just yet. And that's hard for me, to not have it all lined up in a neat little row, to make some sense out of the chaos. I know I want to join with other grieving mothers that I have met on this journey to help break the deafening silence around child loss. And I know I want our story to help spread the balm of Jesus' love to other hurting hearts. I don't know exactly how or when this will take shape. But I am waking up each day and living my life, the best I can, for my family here on earth and for my beloved daughter in heaven. It is all I can do, for now.

Trusting Him in the storm,

Kristy 

Who would she have been?

I find myself wondering...

Were her eyes blue? Surely they were behind her closed lids, but would they have stayed that way as she grew?

Would she have had platinum blond hair like her brother, or darker blond hair like her sister?

Would she have been a petite child like our other two?

Would she have been a feisty baby like Isabel, requiring lots of attention, or a more mellow one like Josiah who was mostly content to go with the flow and watch the world go by?

Would she have been a good nurser?

What would her giggle sound like?

What would have been her first word?

What would have been her favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite toy? Favorite movie?

Would she have been bright like the other two, learning her ABCs, colors, counting, and letters earlier than average?

Would she have been a tough little girl? I think she would have been, because she was really tough in the womb, hanging on for many weeks in an inhospitable environment.

Would she have had a love-hate relationship with Ginger like the other two?

Would she have joined her sister in gymnastics and ballet, looking up to her as she learned new things in each?

Who would have been her best friend?

What kind of student would she have been when she joined our other kids at their private school?

What color would she have chosen for her prom dress?

What style of wedding dress would she have worn?

Who would she have married?

What would have been the look on her face as she handed me her own child to hold for the first time?

All these questions and more, every day. I miss her.