He should be fifteen months old.
I picture him with blonde hair and dimples, toddling around the house, terrorizing the dog, saying a few words now and then.
It’s hard to imagine having a toddler boy instead of a five-month-old baby girl.
Hard to imagine blue instead of pink.
Hard to imagine Elijah instead of Grace.
Sometimes when I think about how much I love my sweet baby girl, how fun it is to have a daughter, how much joy she brings our family, I feel guilty. Guilty because I know if that little boy was here, she would not be.
And I am so glad she is here.
Writing about Elijah, about my miscarriage, about all these things is not easy for me. Time has healed a lot of the pain, but there will always be that little missing piece of my heart.
My heart will never be truly complete again till heaven.
Heaven has become so real to me since I lost my little one. Perhaps that was part of God’s purpose. I don’t know. I may never know.
My mind races as I try to put down my thoughts. They are little more than a jumble.
If Elijah had never been– my little surprise pregnancy that ended so suddenly in grief– Little One would have probably never been either, because it was that surprise pregnancy that drove us to decide to have another child.
Yet if Elijah had been– if I did indeed have my little blonde-haired boy with dimples running around my house– Little One also probably never would have been part of our family.
These are not sweet thoughts. I try not to think of them very often.
I am so very thankful for my daughter.
I am so very grieved for my son.
These are the things we cannot understand, the things that we simply must accept as gifts and tests from a Father who loves us and works all things in our lives together for our good– and for His own glory.
And so today, October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, I hug all of my living children a little tighter, and I give thanks for them. And I light a candle for the child I cannot hug, but who is held by His Father, who created him and then took him for His own purposes.
I mourn, and I praise, because He gave us tears instead of laughter.
And I remember.