January 27

For the first time in over three years our lives passed through January 27 like any other day.

I woke up like any other morning, having just worked two 12-hr shifts; took Abi to school, played with Brayden all morning, nap time, lunch time, picked Abi up, dinner time, bed time.

It was not until yesterday that I remembered the anniversary had just passed.  When the realization came, a twinge of guilt came with it, because I had forgotten.

Anyone who has known me for any amount of time, knows that I have two beautiful children, and one due at the end of May.  I love them with everything in me.  Those who know me on a deeper, closer level, know that in January 2012, Abi accompanied me to a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment; I was 11 weeks pregnant and we were supposed to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time.  Only, there was none.  An ultrasound would confirm that our baby had not grown past seven weeks and the next day a simple procedure would officially end my pregnancy.


And here we are, three years later.  How did I move through this day, without a thought? How did I forget?  I felt that in my forgetting this anniversary, it was as if it had never happened, that I did not care as much as I should have.  How could I have forgotten such a traumatic event in our lives?

And then I remembered. Our movement through the stages of grief is only made possible through Him.  I had not forgotten because it did not matter, my Comforter had allowed me to move through the grief of remembering that day and focus on who mattered presently; Aaron, Abi, Brayden and this life yet to be born.  I had not forgotten because I did not care, I had simply healed to a point where my grief was not the focal point of the entire day. 

Experiencing a loss of any kind- parent, spouse, child, friend, even pet- is felt in so many ways.  Grief is a complex monster.  It is not merely experienced emotionally, but physically and mentally.  It can consume you if you let it.  

But there is One who suffers our grief with us, who feels our pain and longs to heal our wounds.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."  


2 Corinthians 1: 3-4 (NIV)

Let Him in, let Him comfort you, let Him heal you.