Sunday (the 20th) is my husband's birthday. It is also the 1 year anniversary of the day I told him I was pregnant with Asher. He had been ready to have another baby for at least a year, maybe more. I'm quite sure he'd keep me pregnant until we had a brood to rival the Duggers if I'd agree to it. I was 99% sure I was pregnant but went to Walmart and picked up a pregnancy test for me and a birthday card for Nolan on the 19th. I waited until he went to work then peed on that little stick. PREGNANT! So I wrote in his birthday card Happy Birthday! from Samantha, Vera, and Julian Arminius (A boys name Nolan and I both kinda liked at the time) (Also how interesting that I wrote a boys name. I always had 'boy feelings' that whole pregnancy). I gave it to him the next morning when he came home from work. He opened it, read it, and then said, with a kind of hysterical look on his face, "What does this mean? Are you sure?!" I just nodded and held out the pregnancy test. He laughed and swooped forward to hug and kiss me. Oh, I'm crying thinking about that day. How beautiful, how glorious, how happy. So happy.
I really love that pregnancy. It was so healing after the upheaval of Vera's pregnancy. There was never a day I wasn't glad to be pregnant. Never I day I wasn't excited. Never a time I wondered if I was ready or capable. I spent so much time loving him before I ever even knew he was a him. And I spent ever so much more time enthralled by the thought of a baby boy. My pregnancy was easy. By the end of I was even excited to give birth. I was confident that everything would be perfect.
I'm just so utterly shocked how un-perfect it all turned out to be. I'm just stunned at how this could happen. I'm the sort of person who is generally prepared for most circumstances....... but this, this was like walking from a dark house out into the bright sunlight where you can't see, but can feel the warmth and being suddenly punched in the face. There is nothing you can do except fall to the ground and wait for the pain to subside so you can try to get up again. Trying to stagger into an upright position seems impossible some days. Nolan says I'm wallowing. He seems angry some days that I'm not normal. How am I supposed to be normal? I won't ever go back to the old normal because I piece of me is in that grave with my Asher. I hope Nolan will understand one day.
I don't give him enough credit, though. He's been the one holding my head above the water for so long now. He's who I run to when I just need to cry with no questions asked. He's the rock that has always kept me grounded. He lets me babble on but doesn't allow me to seep into despair. And I know he's ready for another baby.
I keep thinking that being pregnant again would be nice, and I don't think God will take another baby from my arms, but He might. But he might not. And - in the recent words of a friend - if I live in the past, I may miss out on someone/thing amazing and special in the future.
Psalms 30:5 "Weeping may endure for a night, but JOY cometh in the morning." How sad it would be to miss out on that joy, because I refused to open my eyes for fear.