Tuesday, July 13, 2010
That little face and crazy hair still melt my heart and I long to hold him once more.
On this, the eve of Isaac, my precious second son's birthday I find myself feeling more Homesick than ever. While I do enjoy life here on earth, there is so much pain and suffering in this world and I so look forward to the day that every tear is wiped dry and we can rejoice at the feet of our savior.
FIVE years ago I lived with an innocence I will never know again. I lived in a world where you get pregnant, and nine months later you have a baby. I was prepared to bring my second son home and was more than excited for the adventure ahead. I guess I knew babies died, but it really never entered my radar. Luke had been born five and a half weeks early, perfectly healthy and went home with us a day and a half later. I figured we were in for much of the same with our next baby boy.
Little did I know that just hours away, I would feel my baby seize within me and turn breach after which, I would sit in a dark room, warm gel placed on my belly, and my boy would appear on the screen. Instead of oooohing and aaahhhing, repeated measurements would be taken, a technician would furrow her brow and send us to consult with a doctor who would moments later ask us to prepare ourselves to hold our boy that day. With tears in her eyes, she would tell me, my son had fluid on his brain and they were uncertain of the outcome. She gave us a moment to gather our thoughts and sent us to the hospital across the street.
Never had I known such shock and numbness. I had no idea how to prepare for a c-section, Howard looked terrified as he prepared to send me into surgery and then board a helicopter with our son.
Little did I know, the helicopter ride would never take place. Unbeknownst to me my son's brain stopped growing about half way through gestation and there would be NOTHING a doctor could do for him. I never could have imagined what the next six days would hold. Such sacred days. Such difficult days, days trying to balance life in a NICU with life with a boy waiting for us at home.
Little did I know how that dark haired boy would change my life. I tried to stay numb, but I fell in love in an instant and physically ache to hold him once more. I never imagined I would know the grief of watching my own son enter this world and six days later make a graceful exit. It is a sacred thing, for sure. Isaac knew only love. I wish I had taken better advantage of those days. My mind was in such a whirlwind that I never really allowed myself to believe he could die.
Tonight as I am reminded of where my heart has been, it is heavy and it hurts. I am not sure yet how we will honor our boy tomorrow. I pray the Lord will lead us to something perfect. I can't believe it has been five years and yet it seems like it has been an eternity since I held that 4lb miracle. I would give just about anything to stroke that amazing thick head of hair one more time. I am convinced that while we move forward, we will never move on. He is a part of who we are as a family, just as much as any of our kids, and though we were the only ones to ever really know him, I am grateful we have had the opportunity to share him with each of you.
I continue to pray that the Lord will take this brokenness and this emptiness I feel and fill my heart with more of Him. I pray that he uses the brokenness for His Glory. I just can't bear to let it go to waste.
If you have not had the opportunity to meet our Isaac, please take a moment if you can and go here to see his video, and here to hear his story.
Thank you for continuing to love us. Though grief often feels so isolating, it is great to know there ARE people out there loving us and praying for us! :)
Posted by boltefamily at 4:13 PM