unforgotten dates

10.22.11

The day we found out we were having a boy and named him Jude. So much joy!

11.8.11

The day we had Jude's anatomy scan and found out *something may be wrong.* My birthday.

11.15.11

The day of our follow-up ultrasound with the perinatologist and found out Jude would (probably) not live.

11.17.11

The day of our amniocentesis.

11.19.11

The day we got the amnio results: Triploidy. All hope for Jude's survival gone. Jess' birthday.

12.20.11

The day we went to the hospital to usher our son through Heaven's gates.

12.21.11

The day we said "hello" and "goodbye."

Each of these days are ingrained in my memory like giant black holes in my brain. The reality of their approach really started to hit me this morning.

I. Am. Terrified.

I'm scared that history will repeat itself.

I'm scared that my fear of these approaching dates, and equivalent milestones with this pregnancy will/are overshadowing the joy of expecting this baby; and that it's unfair to this little one.

I'm afraid that the seemingly unending tears will return around these dates. 

I'm scared that I'll be re-consumed by my grief, and lose focus of the blessings that we have.

I'm scared to have to explain to those who can't understand our reality, why I'm not a "normal" pregnant woman, just looking forward to finding out the gender of our baby at the anatomy scan on Tuesday.

But:

I know I can rest in God's love. 

Is it easy? No. Will it always stop the tears? No.

But, in Him, I find rest.

As I was sitting here writing this, one of my favorite songs started playing on my Enter the Worship Circle station on Pandora. (FABULOUS station by the way.)

I'm challenging myself to remember that there is more truth in these lyrics than there is in my fear.

I will remember the power of this day over all the others:

How Deep The Father's Love For Us

(by Stuart Townsend)

How deep the Father's love for us.

How vast beyond all measure.

That He would give His only Son,

To make a wretch His treasure.

How great the pain of searing loss.

The Father turns His face away,

As wounds which mar the Chosen One

Bring many sons to Glory.

Behold the man upon the cross,

My sin upon His shoulders,

Ashamed I hear my mocking voice

Call out among the scoffers.

It was my sin that held Him there,

Until it was accomplished.

His dying breath has brought me life.

I know that it is finished.

I will not boast in anything: 

No gifts, no power, no wisdom.

But I will boast in Jesus Christ,

His death and resurrection.

Why should I gain from His reward?

I can not give an answer.

But this I know with all my heart:

His wounds have pain my ransom.

That is the love of my Savior. In this love, with His help, I will rest.