Birthdays

Last week I celebrated my birthday, and, I have to say, I was dreading it for a few weeks. I knew that this birthday was not going to be what it could have been. Last summer, I thought I might be spending this one with our first child; or, if not that he would be with us soon after, as his due date was exactly seven days after my birthday.

A really good friend of mine sent me a little note in the mail several weeks ago asking me how I was doing. She wrote about how easy it would be to assume that because of the new joys in your life, you have left behind the old sorrows. But that's not always the case. I have been thinking about this a lot over the past few weeks and have spent the last week talking things over with Jordan and asking him all sorts of questions about how we are supposed to feel and...be in this situation.

What I was struggling with the most was the idea of honoring my little one's life in the years to come. I know that as time goes on, it will be hard to see what kind of a legacy he might have with such a short lifespan. God says that, for all of us, our life is but a vapor. So, what does that make eight weeks? Mostly, his impact will be on our lives. How we view God, ourselves, and our children. But I also hope to be open to however God wants to use me.

I have also struggled with the idea of embracing the joy of our child to come...without feeling like there is some betrayal of the one we lost. Don't get me wrong here--we are very, very excited to meet this little guy or girl in the upcoming weeks! But there were two examples I thought of for how these feelings could coexist. 

First, I thought of those I know of who lost their husband or wife and God brought someone else into their lives. The new spouse does not replace or diminish the love and loss of the first. But neither does the sorrow of the first diminish the joy of the second. If anything, it deepens and richens it because the bruised heart understands love in a new way and knows not to take it for granted.

Second, I thought of Job. Oh, Job...he was far from perfect; yet, he knew suffering most will never know. Job lost all of his animals (his livelihood), his servants, and his children--seven sons and three daughters. The book details how he dealt with his sorrows, his questions about his life, and his questions about God. Forty chapters later, Job confesses and repents to God:

“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. ‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.”

God restored all of Job's fortunes--doubling them, in fact. He also gave him seven sons and three daughters and allowed him to live to see his great-great grandchildren. Job came out of his sorrow a new man with a deeper relationship with God. Did he still have heart-stopping moments where he remembered holding his first child for the very fist time? I don't see how he didn't. Did he look at his wife and see the life they had had and lost? I think so. But he also rejoiced in a God who had intimately made himself known to him, and he embraced the new family he had been given. He was a different husband, father, and friend. Job was changed...for the better.

And so I think that I can wholeheartedly rejoice in our little munchkin to come and know that one of the best ways I can honor our first child is by loving those I have with me here all the more.

I still wanted to do something else to honor our little one's life. I asked one of my friends, Mollie, right after everything happened to make me a scrapbook page of the few things that I could put together. She blew me away with how creative and personal her gifts were:

A shadowbox to hang on our wall

She also surprised me with a notebook she bound containing all of my blog entries from that time, a poem a friend gave me, and an excerpt from Psalm 139. I take it out every once in a while and reread it and I cry...but it's a good cry because it's good to remember. My favorite page is this one:

We love you, Asher Matthias, and we look forward to telling your brother or sister all about you!