Jean Marie Bauhaus

Today is hard. All the days are hard, but today… just last Sunday, before the spotting started, Matt and I were talking about how much fun next Easter would be, and all the Easters thereafter, having a baby to celebrate with and do the whole Easter basket thing. So today is serving as a harsh reminder that it definitely won’t happen next Easter, and it might never happen for us, and that hurts. A lot.

I’m trying to focus on what this day is really about. It’s not easy, but it does help to remember that I have the hope of being reunited with my children in Eternity thanks to the work that my Lord Jesus did at the cross. It’s all of the Easters, and Christmases, and birthdays and every days without them in between now and then that I’m mourning. It’s also the pain of another unfulfilled pregnancy, and of wondering if I’ll ever be able to achieve that fulfillment, to have a healthy pregnancy and carry a healthy baby to term, or if my body’s just not capable of that for some reason.

I’m also still physically sore (and allergies are kicking my butt today to boot; at least I can take Sudafed now), which is keeping me on the couch with too much time to dwell on these things. I know I need to get off the couch, to find some healthy distractions and get my mind into a better place, but it’s hard to make myself move. Maybe later I’ll at least go outside and get some sunshine. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel recovered enough to go for a walk.

Tuesday is my birthday. I would normally be kind of bummed about drawing another year closer to 40, but let’s face it: my 36th year pretty much blew, and I’m glad for it to be over. I’m expecting my 37th to bring better things. My mom’s taking me out Tuesday for some birthday shopping and badly needed pampering, and that night Matt will take me out to our favorite Thai place for dinner. I think it will do me a lot of good, a whole day full of happy distractions and getting out of the house.

Today, though… it’s supposed to be a day of rejoicing in the risen Savior and the promise of resurrection we have through Him. But for me it’s more a day of quiet contemplation and mourning what I’ve lost, what I won’t gain back until that promise is fulfilled at the end of my life here on this earth. My babies have that promise already, though. Whatever genetic or chromosomal problems kept them from living more than a few precious weeks, at least I have the knowledge that they never have to know pain or suffering, that they now have perfect bodies free of any defects. In that, I CAN rejoice.

Happy Easter to those of you who share my faith. I hope yours is a day full of joy.