The before loss part of life is blurry in my mind to some extent, but stands out as a time of idyllic ignorance and oblivious thinking. It was a time in which I believed that somehow my planning and actions would firmly shape my life; and that as long as I didn't stray from the "path" that everything would go as hoped and planned. This was a time before the grief fellow made his way into our lives, entangling himself in our every action and planting himself firmly in our hearts and minds.
I remember the bliss of the few weeks and days leading up to the death and birth of our sweet boy, and how innocent and stupidly happy I appeared in my "baby bump" pictures. My face was completely different in those photos. It was a fresh and peaceful face that told the story of a soon-to-be mommy of two...a mommy who was completely unaware of just how cruel life could be. How naive of me. I was utterly oblivious to the upcoming squall that would inevitably turn our world upside down.
I continue to have a constant craving to devote time to a child that I cannot hold in my arms...only my heart. We strive to include Wyatt in our daily thoughts and conversations and still feel the pang of what could've been... Lyla draws with the color green because, "That's my brother's favorite color." I peek outside each morning in hopes that I will see a quickly spinning pinwheel, which somehow brings me a shot of comfort. Our nightly family prayers always include these sweet and thoughtful, yet painstakingly honest words from the mouth of our five year old, " I want to pray that Wyatt is safe in Heaven with Grandma, that the new baby is safe in Mommy's tummy and that we can keep this one, and that Mommy is safe too." Be still my heart.
However, I wish not to paint a picture of a weak and broken family, by merely stating the facts of our circumstances, because, believe me, we are much better people for loving and knowing our Wyatt.
Together, as a family, and in our marriage, we have gained an understanding of each other that would not be present otherwise; we are linked with a new strength...a strength that is not found in families who are lucky enough to never have to endure this type of loss. We have discovered the ever-growing and ever-loving support system of friends, family, and even strangers, that we are forever in debted to for their love, patience, and helping hands. And we have grown to truly appreciate the "little things" in life.
Did you happen to notice that first blue butterfly of the season fluttering by on weak wings? Or that beautiful wild flower that popped up in the middle of a field of weeds? How about how warm and refreshing the sunshine feels as it caresses your winter-laden face? Did you happen to realize the warm feeling that passes through your body as you smell a familiar and memory-filled scent such as homemade biscuits or a farm full of cows? No? That's okay...I didn't use to notice those things often enough either...that is before the line was drawn dividing my life into two distinct sections.
We are eleven months into this journey. Eleven months since we saw our "old" selves. Eleven months closer to seeing our son again.
It has been eleven months since that line was drawn...eleven months of grieving, growing, and living. Take time and smell the flowers and watch the sunset...
It is amazing what a difference these little babies can make in our lives. I know that neither of us would wish this upon our worst enemy, but we are who we are today because of Wyatt and Landon. May you never let the simple things in life pass you by, and may God be with you always. :)
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