One week

A week ago today we got to meet our sweet Jack. A week ago today we said goodbye to sweet Jack.

I am sitting here at our dining room table. Decorated for Easter. It seems strange to have eggs and bunnies and flowers now. I am sure anyone who has experienced a loss can testify that it is magnified around a holiday. But right now the loss is so fresh, it is even stranger to have the contrast between the deep feelings of grief and the happy pastels of this holiday.

Our table is also strewn with papers. Mail yet to be opened that collected while we were at the hospital. "Recommended Resources" on coping with grief, on helping your children cope with grief. Insurance papers, medical bills. All reminders of what we do not have.

What we do have, though, is hope. We have never lost hope. Even in the darkest of times when we are sobbing with grief, we have hope. While Easter is especially hard for many reasons this year (the fact that this holiday is centered around the death of a son is not lost on us) it is good, too, that we have this reminder of how much God loves us. I understand even more now the pain God endured when he CHOSE to lose his son. For me. For you. I can not fathom making that choice, giving up your perfect son on purpose in order to redeem the sinful, evil, hateful people of the world. It gives me great joy to think on how amazing that depth of love must be (I can not even begin to pretend I could ever love that deeply). It also gives me great sadness to know that another woman lost her son because of how sinful my life is.

We are doing as well as anyone could expect. I think the term "coping with grief" is appropriate. Nothing can make it better, nothing can "cure" it. Nothing can numb the pain. But we learn to cope. And we keep our eyes open for all the beautiful things in this world. In our precious daughter's made up songs, in the beauty that is spring in full bloom, in the people who have loved us so well during our darkest time. Loved us in a way that is surprising and unfathomable. In a way that is much like the way Jesus loved us at Easter.

Jack

December 11, 2013 was the start of the hardest journey Jason and I have ever been on. It was a fun day, Harper had her school's Christmas program that day and that afternoon we were going to get to see our newest little one for the first time and find out if Harper would have a sister or a brother. They figured out pretty quickly that we were having a boy. But soon after that the ultrasound tech told us that something was wrong. I can't remember how she phrased it, only that I felt my heart sink into my feet. It felt like all of the blood drained out of my face. When the doctor came in (not our regular OB, who was not at that office that day) he was very cut and dry. It appeared that our sweet boy was having some growth issues in his limbs. They were sending us to UAB. Less than a week later (though it seemed much longer than that) we headed to UAB and heard relieving news. Though our little one did indeed have smaller limbs everything else looked healthy. A few weeks later we returned for a follow-up ultrasound. The news was not as good. The term they used was "lethal". The long drive from Birmingham back home was torture. Every follow-up ultrasound confirmed the lethal diagnosis. Jack's rib cage wasn't growing enough to allow him to breathe once he was born. It was (and remains) so hard to accept because he was so active and spunky while I was pregnant with him. God blessed us with family and friends (all over the country) who prayed for us and with us and cried with us and loved us so well. This is how we managed to put one foot in front of the other for months. We didn't tell many people about what was going on until just before Jack was born. The reason I write this now is just to share our story and explain a little more about what was going on with Jack. We will meet with the geneticists at UAB in a few months to confirm Jack's diagnosis. They are pretty sure they know what his diagnosis is, but the results of their testing will confirm it. We will not share the specific name of his diagnosis for several reasons. One is that it is not something that could have been prevented, no amount of medical research could stop this or treat this or prevent it. Based on what I know the chances of this occurring are one in 20,000. It is not passed down in families and is not a worry to Harper if she has children. The chances of it occurring again in our family is "nearly zero". But it happened. And our son is not here with us but waiting in Heaven until we are reunited again. He never suffered, never sinned, never knew anything but LOVE. We chose the name Jack Andrew because Jack means God is gracious and Andrew means strength. God has been so gracious to us throughout this  journey and has given us strength unimaginable. We are so  glad to have gotten to spend a precious few hours with Jack and will cherish those memories until we get to see him again.