A Rainbow is Coming

You guys. We have a rainbow coming. It is not here yet; it's still just a glimmer in the distance. But each week it is gradually coming closer, becoming clearer and more vibrant. With its presence comes hope. 

I am pregnant. 

We have known for several months and have been very guarded with sharing the news, although now it is impossible to hide. While we are so thrilled, we do not go into this pregnancy naive. We know things can go wrong, which makes the excitement seem overshadowed by concern. Yes, I am happy to be pregnant, but I can't seem to celebrate until I have a crying, wiggling baby in my arms. 

I have been hesitant how to announce this pregnancy for several reasons. First, my longing for Olivia is in no way affected by this baby. I would be devastated for people to think anything could replace our sweet girl. I would give anything to have her here, being the amazing big sister I know she would be. I suppose I have an irrational fear that once people know I'm pregnant, Olivia will be forgotten. And that is the worst possible thing in the world.

Secondly, since losing Olivia I have been honored to meet some wonderful mommies who share my pain. Who understand the devastating loss of a child. And who also know the bittersweet jealously of pregnancy announcements and "welcome baby" updates. While we would never want anyone to experience our pain, it is hard to scroll through Facebook seeing whole families, wondering why that couldn't be us as well. So, to you mommies, I love you. I think of you every day. And my heart continues to hurt with you. 

Like any pregnancy, you may have some questions. So here are the basics:

- The baby is due June 13th. That makes me 24 weeks tomorrow.

-We've had several ultrasounds which confirm it is a healthy baby boy.

-We aren't announcing a name until Little Man gets here, not that we have decided on anything though. 

We are over the moon in love with him. At every ultrasound he has been a squirmy, goofy dude who has crazy long fingers and toes like his daddy and big sister. My heart aches to meet him and introduce him to you. 

 Thank you for following along and loving our little family.

One Year

One year.  Typing those words is strange. Because it doesn't feel like a year. It feels like an eternity. It feels like yesterday.

I was scared of today. Scared of what would await me. Scared of what I would feel. Anxiety and worry have been my companion leading up to today, filling my thoughts and words. But when I woke up, I was surprised they were gone. Missing. And replaced with peace and comfort.

Don't get me wrong. I've cried countless tears today, but I do that regularly. I missed Olivia deeply today, but that is nothing new. I hurt so strongly I can't put it into words, but that is my new normal. But instead of feeling what I expected to feel- hopelessness, anxiety, worry, fear- I feel love, peace, and longing.

Time and time again He continues to be present. In my darkest days and in my saddest thoughts He is there bringing hope and comfort. And time and time again I am surprised. I know He says He will be there, but I can never imagine how that will make it any better. But it does. Every time. Every stinking time.

God's peace and comfort are so good, I just wish I didn't know it so well.

His presence doesn't change my situation. We still don't have Olivia in our arms. But I don't grieve without hope. This isn't the end; this world is not our home. Olivia went ahead without me. I just wish she wouldn't have.

And now I want to say thank you, to you. You know who you are; there are so many of you. You continue to take time to remember and you let us know how much you love us and our sweet girl. Texts, calls, messages, cards, gifts, prayers, words- I can't express how much each one means to me. You are encouraging during times of sorrow. You show me God's love when I question everything. You remind me of the goodness and hope that exist. You wrap your arms around my sad little family and tell me you hurt with us. I will never be able to repay what your actions have given us. When we get to heaven, I can't wait to introduce Olivia to all the people who continue to walk with us through this journey. Because you guys, heaven is so very real; I've never been more sure of it. And I can't wait to see you there. 

Ever Changing Grief

The one year mark of losing Olivia has been lingering in the corner for months. Nodding at me. Shifting its weight. Clearing its throat. Letting me get comfortable with its presence but then making sure I always know it's there. Like an unwanted visitor. A dull ache deep down. 

For what seems like forever, time has been measured by February 5, 2014. That is when the clock started- day zero. How many hours since that day. Weeks. Months.

But lately I feel that my clock is counting down. How many months, weeks, days, hours until February 5, 2015. And I dread every ticking second. 

I don't want this day to get here. 

I don't want it to be a whole year since I held her. 

I don't want the distance of time to grow between us. 

I'm not sure what I expected 1 year to look like. More put together? More of a mess? To be truthful, some days are good. I can think of our sweet daughter and smile. Imagine her snuggling with Jesus and laughing at our silly dogs. But then I have days which I can barely get out of bed, cry on my way to work, and plead for answers. Those bad days seem to grow as this anniversary date is drawing near. 

Grief is funny like that. It is ever growing, ever changing. And it is always keeping me on my toes, whether I like it or not.

I'm scared of what time will look like on the other side of 1 year. Will people still know I miss her so much it literally hurts? That I would still give my last breath to hold her one more time? That any time a baby is mentioned my stomach clinches and I wish Olivia was here to brag about.

But I don't want to write about my pain without giving acknowledgement to the amazing amount of grace God has shown me. I want to scream at the top of my lungs how much I still hurt, but in the same breath I have to say how good God is. How I have never felt God's presence more than in the past year. How I yearn for others to know him like I do. And how I can't imagine how I could have survived this year without faith and hope in his promises. 

So I ask that you pray for me as these days continue to tick by. Please pray for comfort, peace and an overwhelming since of hope that can only come from above. 

Silence

It has been almost four months since I have posted a blog update. I'm not sure why I've kept silent for so long, but I feel the need to reconnect with you again. To let you know that I'm still chugging away at life, finding joy in the nook and crannies.

I guess over the past few months God has quieted my words and protected my heart. It is hard putting your grief and struggles out there for the world to see. I'm scared that I might not explain myself accurately and people may get the wrong impression of what I'm feeling/thinking/hoping.

Living life with grief is a funny thing. It is ugly. It is redeeming. It is raw. It is overwhelming. And it became too much to share. I couldn't, and still can't, distinguish where I end and my grief begins.

So, I guess this is just me saying hi. Hopefully, it won't be so long next time.