...where the joyous festivities of the Christmas season are also a reminder of the Christmas that we lost Gideon. His "birthday" is a few days away, the 19th, Monday, and as in Christmases past I seem to get a bit melancholy around this time of the year. Obviously I am beyond blessed in the life that I live, but I can't help but to remember our precious boy and wonder what our lives would be like if he were here with us...for that matter I wonder what our lives would look like if all of our kids were here with us...all 6...it's a lot to ponder.
It's been 8 years since our sweet boy went to Heaven. Eight, long and sometimes extremely lonely years. The heartache of losing a child can never be measured, and for anyone who has gone through it you sometimes wonder how the world can keep going when yours has come to an abrupt stop. Yet the world keeps turning as your own is flipped upside down. In the early months and years of grief I found it amazing that I could keep going, and then the grief became such a part of my life that I actually had a hard time letting it go...I think I wrote about it once here, but I can't remember when. I do remember thinking during my pregnancy with Johnathan when it was going fairly well that it was hard to feel happy because feeling such deep sadness was so normal and the happiness felt strangely out of place.
Another thing I remember being concerned about was the happiness and joy over having two dear, living children was that it would completely replace my longing and desire for the children we lost. I didn't want that to happen, and it hasn't. At all. Sometimes the desire for them is so strong that I find myself completely grief-stricken and at the strangest times too. A song, a scent, a brief memory and then I lose it for a while...and if Johnathan catches me he'll ask why I'm crying and then I get to tell him about his big brothers and angel babies in Heaven. It's a sad but sweet moment. (Interesting side note. Since we are often talking to Johnathan about his brothers being in Heaven because they were born too little and died, he wonders when he sees pictures of babies if they are dead because they are little. Also if I tell him about a little baby he wonders if it is going to die. I think that he correlates the idea of being a small baby with death, and it's sort of sad.)
Grieving a child is never easy on the heart, but somehow even after your heart's been broken in two and your soul feels like it's been ripped out of you there is healing. But the pain is still there, and I'm glad about that...I don't want to ever forget my babies.
Blessed Beyond Measure,
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