I have three beautiful children.
This information is not lost on me. My beautiful baby girl who cries only when she needs something, but otherwise is content to just sit and pull on her blankets, kick her legs and chew on a minnie mouse doll, is an amazing testament to me of the beauty of the world. Oh how I prayed for each of these children. I prayed for G - to be a boy actually. I really wanted a son. And for D, I prayed for a brother for G. And for J ... either gender, but a sister to give the boys balance, I thought that would just be perfect.
It seems wrong to get everything ones heart desires. And yet. Here I am.
I know there will be tests and trials, and more than likely sadness to come. I live in a weird place of fear and resigned faith concerning my spouses health. They say they fixed it. They say he's fine. But there's a place of fear.
But I know there will be other things. I know that I can get super upset about G and his situation. And that every year and every day I go through a phase of "are we doing the right thing?"
But those things seem so minor in the face of our blessings. Or at least manageable.
Our circle of friends was hit with tragedy this week. And it's shaken me. Every time I look at Julia I think about it. And my throat hitches and I kiss her sweet cheeks and I am thankful that she's here. I breathe her in aware that life is precious. Precarious. And that we take so much for granted.
In Frisco a couple of weeks ago a 4yo - being watched - fell into and ultimately drowned in her community pool. G is an okay swimmer but I didn't get him in lessons this year because of the baby and when I go to the pool with them by myself, they are all wearing life vests (puddle jumpers). G complains because he can't go under the water but I don't care. Lewis doesn't think it's fair either but I told him, with the baby and with D I could get distracted for a minute or more, and that's all it would take. Not worth it.
We all live with that fear. The fear that some unspeakable tragedy will befall our precious babies. And when the worst happens I think all of us feel helpless to do anything. We can't make it better and we're terrified we'll make it worse.
I'm in that situation now, with our dear friend. It's amplified by distance and I just don't know what to do. What I can do. What they would want.
But every time I look at Julia I have a pang for their baby. When I think of that I think of G and what they've lost.
And it's a crushing weight no person should have to bear.
This information is not lost on me. My beautiful baby girl who cries only when she needs something, but otherwise is content to just sit and pull on her blankets, kick her legs and chew on a minnie mouse doll, is an amazing testament to me of the beauty of the world. Oh how I prayed for each of these children. I prayed for G - to be a boy actually. I really wanted a son. And for D, I prayed for a brother for G. And for J ... either gender, but a sister to give the boys balance, I thought that would just be perfect.
It seems wrong to get everything ones heart desires. And yet. Here I am.
I know there will be tests and trials, and more than likely sadness to come. I live in a weird place of fear and resigned faith concerning my spouses health. They say they fixed it. They say he's fine. But there's a place of fear.
But I know there will be other things. I know that I can get super upset about G and his situation. And that every year and every day I go through a phase of "are we doing the right thing?"
But those things seem so minor in the face of our blessings. Or at least manageable.
Our circle of friends was hit with tragedy this week. And it's shaken me. Every time I look at Julia I think about it. And my throat hitches and I kiss her sweet cheeks and I am thankful that she's here. I breathe her in aware that life is precious. Precarious. And that we take so much for granted.
In Frisco a couple of weeks ago a 4yo - being watched - fell into and ultimately drowned in her community pool. G is an okay swimmer but I didn't get him in lessons this year because of the baby and when I go to the pool with them by myself, they are all wearing life vests (puddle jumpers). G complains because he can't go under the water but I don't care. Lewis doesn't think it's fair either but I told him, with the baby and with D I could get distracted for a minute or more, and that's all it would take. Not worth it.
We all live with that fear. The fear that some unspeakable tragedy will befall our precious babies. And when the worst happens I think all of us feel helpless to do anything. We can't make it better and we're terrified we'll make it worse.
I'm in that situation now, with our dear friend. It's amplified by distance and I just don't know what to do. What I can do. What they would want.
But every time I look at Julia I have a pang for their baby. When I think of that I think of G and what they've lost.
And it's a crushing weight no person should have to bear.
Comments