The 4th of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. I remember visiting my grandparents at their lakehouse as a little girl, waving sparklers and eating tomatoes fresh off the vine. I remember watermelon seed spitting contests with my dad, and the “koo koo” firework display being our favorite as a family. We always saved it for last. 2015 was the most exciting 4th of July I have ever experienced. We were at a friend’s 4th of July barbecue when I started having contractions. A few hours later I was in full on labor. My husband and I drove through downtown Greenville, as we viewed beautiful fireworks light up the sky. In a hurry (I have very fast labors) we didn’t think ahead about our route, and ended up in bumper to bumper downtown traffic. I remember calling the hospital ahead of time in a panic, because I knew I would need to go straight to the delivery room as I was already starting to push in the car. I remember screaming to my poor husband that we absolutely could NOT have Joshua in the car! As we stared at red taillights ahead and that thought started to become a serious possibility, I made the decision that I would have to try to calm my body down to try to slow my contractions. Somehow, they actually did slow down as I breathed through them. A few hours later, after barely making it to the hospital, our sweet second little boy was born, just two hours shy of being a July 4th baby.
This year’s July 4th was not your “typical” one, but it was the most special one we’ve had. We took the boys to visit Madelyn’s grave, and had a picnic together as a family. While a passer by might have looked on our happy family sitting on a picnic blanket at a cemetery as strange, to us, it wasn’t strange at all. Caleb sang to her, and Joshua hugged her flowers. I’m so glad the boys take so much joy in visiting her. It warms my heart to see them thinking of her, talking to her, and loving on her. We didn’t need a glorious fireworks display. We just needed each other.
It’s hard to believe that our boys are 3 1/2 and 2 now. When they say time flies, it really truly does. You don’t realize how fast until you are witnessing it for yourself, wishing it would all slow down. At this stage of life, most of our friends have young children, and there are babies everywhere. It is such an exciting time of life filled with firsts and picture perfect moments. There truly is a baby boom going on around us. And just like fireworks, I look with awe upon every baby and pregnant belly I see as amazing, wonderful, and beautiful. But, with every baby and pregnant belly I see, there is also ache. Especially now, since I had so many things I hoped to do with my little girl this summer. I couldn’t wait to see her in her first bathing suit and dress her in her little summer bonnets. At this point, she’d be laughing at her silly brothers and we would be playing patticake in the back yard while the boys ran around with their bubbles and swords. Oh Madelyn, you should be here. You just should. There is nothing that will ever feel right about you not being here. And I am living in a world that constantly reminds me that you are gone.
Over the holiday weekend, I had an experience that was one of the harder ones I’ve faced. We took the boys to a Greenville Drive game. To get out of the heat for a bit, we walked over to the little park they have set up. We let the boys loose, and they ran off to play. A bench opened up, and I sat down for a rest. I turned around to watch some of the game, and when I turned back to look for the boys, a woman walked up to me. I listened as she told her two boys to be careful, and sent them off to play. They were just slightly younger than Caleb and Joshua, with about the same age difference between them. There were so many things about our families that were the same. Except one thing. Where my arms were empty, she was carrying a baby girl. She was the same age Madelyn would be now. As I watched a mirror image of what I had once expected my life to be, it was almost as if I were living through her for a time. As I watched her sit next to me, unstrap her sweet one, prepare a bottle and feed her, I almost felt as if I were going through those motions myself. I’m sure she felt me staring at her, and looked over and smiled. “Look at my baby,” her eyes said. “Isn’t she beautiful?” “Yes,” my eyes answered, “she is.” She couldn’t have known that behind my admiration was such a strong, unbearable ache. An ache that has been placed in my heart that will never be soothed until I can hold my little girl again. As I blinked out of my daze, and the hurt grew stronger, I looked at my husband, touched my hand to my heart, and he nodded. No words needed to be spoken, he knew I needed a moment. I walked to the bathroom, where a mom was helping her little girl in a stall next to me. Their conversation was nothing out of the ordinary, and consisted of, “here is the toilet paper honey,” and “be careful,” and “make sure not to touch anything,” and “let’s go wash your hands, sweetie.” To me, however, these simple words made me miss my girl even more. You see, I don’t just long for the special outfits and the picture perfect moments. I long for all of it. The sleepless nights. The messy diapers. The spit up. The packing bags full of items only to leave the house for a few hours to attend a baseball game. The daily conversations that pass by as quick as a flash and aren’t important enough to remember. But to me, those conversations would mean everything. Some might say that I have had these things before, and can still have them with my boys. And I do. But you see, with each child you have, a separate place in your heart grows. It’s like puzzle pieces fitting. My boys each have their own place in my heart, and so does Madelyn. So, yes, I am their mommy. But I am also hers. And the place that was made for her in my heart will never be healed until I am reunited with her. My heart puzzle is not complete.
I have asked God why I was faced with that interaction at the ballgame. Why was I presented with a mirror image of my heart’s desire, only to be reminded that my desire is not possible? I still do not understand, but I can tell you that God is good, and that sometimes we will not be given answers this side of heaven. But it doesn’t mean He isn’t working. I do hope that seeing newborns, pregnant bellies and little girls will get easier over time. I have been told that it does, so I am hopeful. But, in reality, I think there’s some part of it that’s just always going to be hard. But I also know that everyone has their own hard. Some of you long to carry children of your own, but instead all you see are negative pregnancy tests. And so babies and bellies are hard for you too. Some long to find your soul mate, but God has not revealed that person to you yet. So seeing couples is hard. We all have hard. Every one of us. But it doesn’t mean we don’t have good, too. God gives us the good to help take the sting away the hard brings. And in my experience, the good doesn’t come with a boom, like fireworks. It comes in the little things, the quiet things. It’s in butterflies. It’s in two little boys singing and praying next to flowers at a gravesite. It’s in laying my head on my husband’s shoulder. And one day, it will be in holding my little girl’s hand, as Jesus explains everything, and she smiles. And that will be the best good of all.
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