A year ago yesterday I was lying on a bed in a hospital room, listening to the doctor telling me that I needed to get into surgery immediately, that if more blood pooled in my abdomen I could bleed out and die.
I begged God to let me stay, to let me watch Lucy grow, to watch sunlight filter through leaves and kiss the top of her little brown head as she trotted off to kindergarten.
I begged God not to take me from Asher's memory, for I knew that if I died that day his two-year old memories of me would be fickle.
I looked at Scott as he squeezed my hand, begging God to let me keep him...that 7 years was not enough. I wanted more, I was jealous for more.
Watching my sweet mother in law ushering everyone out of the room, the smell of sweet perfume on her skin as her necklace brushed over me and she said goodbye, I lost it.
Watching my family walk away from me, so uncertain for the future, I fell apart.
Lying on that cot, facing a surgery entailing who knows what, I heard a voice and the voice was the most beautiful, soul-stirring voice I have ever heard. James Earl Jones but 991 times better. And that voice said, "I am here." That's all it said, and I didn't hear it audibly, I heard it in my heart and everywhere there is marrow, everywhere that it matters.
Ears can't hear such a thing. I knew He was, and I was calmed. Oh, how many times in this last year do I yearn for that voice again?
But it's only in our darkest, our lowest, that it comes.
I've done a lot of grieving this past year over what never was, over the loss of that baby, and the ones before it, and the one after it, but yesterday, the anniversary of this day, was a gift.
Scott's sister got married. The wedding was supposed to be outdoors, but rain, rain, rain. You know how rain can be.
What is that again about the best-laid plans?
I got my period yesterday and the timing of it all was really crappy...I had been wanting to wear my new dress, not including the monthly bloat. FANTASTIC. And another period, another month = no baby.
I had an epiphany last night, and I shared it with a friend in an email. Basically it was this: so long I've used adoption as the contingency plan, that if I kept having miscarriages, that we would adopt. And conversely, sometimes I have used the pregnancy as a contingency plan...if we don't end up adopting, we can always get pregnant again.
Friend, I don't think God likes contingency plans.
My aunt is battling lung and hip cancer, and for the longest time she said that she always had a contingency. "God, please help me, but if you don't..." She stated that God doesn't want to hear about our tiny little human contingencies. He is a big God, and he wants us to have a big faith. Big faith has no place for contingencies.
I immediately confessed my lack of faith, my lack of belief, in holding on to one or the other as "contingency". It is clear that we are adopting, though I don't clearly know what that road looks like until it is done. I guess it's just exciting to know that God doesn't work on contingency. Things are never Contingency in God's plan. God's plan is always the first one.
Gosh I sound like Stuart Smalley.
pose with my cutie husband, wonder how I got so lucky
watch my sister in law run like a crazy woman, trying to keep everything in the tent from getting wet