We are Jedidiah.

Two years ago about this time, I was coming out of surgery.  I was no longer pregnant.  My world had turned on its head 17 hours earlier when I saw that positive sign on the pregnancy test and knew something was terribly wrong.  All the times before, seeing that plus sign was such an amazing feeling–fear and awe, expectation and wonder, excitement and joy.  With Savannah Grace (no, I do not really know if she was a little girl; it was too early to tell, but I always think of my ‘kidney bean’ as Savannah Grace), I just knew that plus sign meant that I was going to have to make the hardest decision I had ever had to face.  LORD, thank You for loving me through that last two years–the most complicated, horrible, growing, joyful years that I have ever had.

God blessed our lives with Jedidiah’s short presence 10 months ago today.  10 months.  10 months of pain.  10 months of growth.  10 months of joy.  10 months in which his seconds still count.

I awakened to an email this morning from Heather Graf, reporter extraordinaire, that included this…

Sitting here taking a quick break from work, I looked at FoxNews and watched the first part of a report about Rick Santorum’s daughter.  She has trisomy 18.  They were told not to expect to have her with them but for a few hours or days, but she is 3 years old now.  I am jealous that they have had her with them for so long.  But, more than that, I thankful that they have had them with them for so long, that they have not faced the pain of saying goodbye to their precious baby.

Knowing that they live with constant reminders that life is fragile and vital and vibrant makes me stop and think more about her father.  I haven’t really paid attention to the race at this point because, quite honestly, it is exhausting to try to get to the truth outside of all the spin.  I don’t want to think about voting for someone simply because I feel more connected to them, so I guess I need to look into the policies, the procedures, the qualifications, and the heart (as they have revealed it) of these candidates.  Not that I will be voting until the big vote because I am not registered with a particular party.

More than jealous, I pray that their little girl will continue to bring each life she touches closer together–relating, loving, and maturing.  I know that the Father will not take her home one moment before her earthly life is complete, so I am more thankful than jealous for this family who values their little one, as all little ones deserve to be valued.

A friend just posted on fb that her ultrasound went well and that her son looks healthy.  I am so glad for her.  I am jealous, too.  I wish I could go back to that day in the ultrasound room and have someone shake me awake.  I wish that we never had to hear the words “incompatible with life.” I wish that I was stronger.  I want my son.  I want to know what he would look like at this age. I want to see him growing and changing and laughing.

I know that his life was perfect.  I know that he is in a better place away from the cares of this world.  I know these things, but I still hurt.  I still ache.  Thankfully, I have hope.  I have peace.  I have the love of a Father who cares to hold all my tears.

Yesterday was January 8.  Nine months.  Only someone who has lost a close loved one will understand the marking of time by the date of that person’s birth and death.  It used to make me feel uncomfortable when other people around me pointed out their dates of significance, but I didn’t get it.  However, I didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so I said nothing.  No one knew.  I wish I didn’t mark time by the 8th of every month now.  Not because I want to forget Jedidiah… only because I want to be able to let go of more of the sadness and focus on the joy and blessings Jedidiah brought into our lives more easily.  God is good, and my heart is healing.  I just wonder when I will stop looking at each day as a day that I get further away from my time with my son.