"It seems impossible that today marks three years since we lost you. In some ways it seems like it's been much longer and in others it seems like it just happened. Life doesn't seem to have moved much further than the moment we heard the words "I'm sorry, but it looks like you're miscarrying." But in reality, there's a lot that has happened. A lot that I wish we would have been able to share with you, but a lot that I am glad you didn't have to experience along with us as well. I would have loved to share the travel adventures we've experienced the last few years, many of those moments and pictures would have been a lot sweeter with you by our side. I would have loved to share the joy of your first Christmas and celebrate a season of so much joy, I would have loved for us to be able to take you camping, enjoy the slow days of cuddles and coziness at home, and spend days together as we watch you learn and explore the world. I still have moments where I picture you being here with us as we navigate this crazy thing called life. I love the moments where your wind chimes sing and remind me of you, or I see a red bird, or even a rainbow like on our way home Thanksgiving Day - I feel a bit of comfort thinking of you.
When we first lost you, I remember thinking that we would grieve and continue forward simultaneously. And in some ways we have, but not nearly in the way I had imagined our lives going. Instead we've learned to grieve you, grieve our life we thought we'd live, and learn how to heal despite it all. We miss you, I wish we could have seen you grow and flourish in this crazy world, but instead we love remembering you and all of the lessons you've taught us despite you being somewhere besides here. We love you."
I wrote the letter above to Baby O in my journal today. I have found that writing letters and for big moments, the due date, the anniversary of the miscarriage, would have been birthdays, etc. has helped me find a bit of joy and comfort in remembrance. The allow a peek into the feelings that are flowing through my heart on days that seem heavy as I practice joy in remembrance. Like I wrote in the letter, three years seems wild to think it's been that long. So much has happened, but so much hasn't at the same time. Preparing for our trip to Houston for next steps on the heels of reflecting on our third year in waiting seems to be the heavier of the days and anniversaries I've lived through the last few years. Year three has brought more relational and emotional challenges, many heartbreaks and many opportunites to heals, and it has pushed us to dive into bigger questions of what we see for our future. It's brought moments of pure joy in forms of travel, finally honeymooning, and learning who we are as a couple despite the struggles. It's been a year of numerous counterintuitive decisions, placing our trust in God, and praying that this season would end sooner rather than later. I have hope that year four will have more opportunities to grow, but I also pray that this long season of prepearation and sorrow will find it's transition to a season of opportunties to finde true joy and relief from the season that has knocked us down again and again.
