February 5th was my due date. I was caught unaware by the tidal wave of grief, guilt, loneliness, and sadness that engulfed me. It's been 18 months since we found out that our baby had already gone to Heaven to be with the Lord. In those months I have found healing that could have only come from God. Most days I am ok. But knowing that we were so close to what would have been our first-born's birthday hit me much harder than I expected.
My cousin went into labor on the 5th. Her whole pregnancy I had prayed that she would have her sweet baby any day but that day. I hated hearing the regular reminders of when her baby was due- for the past eight months it's kicked me every time. When I found out her water had broken I was beyond depressed. I found myself thinking the kind of nonsense thoughts that appear in the mind when emotion rules over logic. I was happy for my cousin, but the unfairness of the situation sent me over the edge. My poor cousin had a rough birth story, and her baby wasn't actually born until the 6th. A selfish part of me was overjoyed.
I think February 5th will always be hard for me. And I think that's ok. It is ok to set aside a day and mourn for what never was. I am giving myself permission to cry, to scream, to sit, to shake, whatever it is that helps me emote how I feel. I am honored to have held my baby in my belly for 12 weeks. She was a part of me, a part of Lee, a part of us. She'll always be a special part of our lives, and I thank God that we had her for the time that we did.
Grief doesn't follow a timeline. In fact, grief knows no time. But my God is bigger than my grief. He holds me in my sadness and wipes away my tears. He reminds me that my precious child is already in Heaven with Him. How beautiful!
Thank you for letting me speak of my darling baby. Thank you for letting me remember her today.