I’m not sure exactly what triggered it. Something we were watching on TV. But it got me thinking about it—about them—again.
And as I thought about them, and as I thought about the season I am in now—of healing, of restoring and strengthening my body—I couldn’t help but wonder… If I had found Happy Healthy Littles sooner, if I had gotten my body healthier, would I have lost those babies?
Of course the doubts have come before—many times.
And while I know everyone says, “It’s not your fault; you didn’t do anything wrong”—as Clay told me again last night—I can’t help but wonder and doubt.⠀⠀
I hugged him tightly. Then loosened my grasp as I lingered, tears pouring from my eyes now down onto his shirt. (If I had a dollar for every time I’ve done that!)
He didn’t say anything else.
He just held me.
I just needed the moment. Needed to honor them. Needed to grieve them once more. To remember their presence and feel their absence.
As I made my way into our room to get ready for bed, the following words—or lyrics, rather—came to mind:
“Sorrow and love flow mingled down.”
They were vibrant.
Clear as day.
Of course these lyrics are about the cross. But it’s how I feel about those babies—sorrow and love intermingled in my tears.
And then I think about the cross, I think about what it means—for them, for me, for us—and it’s such a beautiful and tragic and hope-filled reminder of this life and all its sorrows.
*No matter the sorrow we face, it’s intermingled with love*
because Christ SO loved us and didn’t want sorrow to be the end of the story that He made a way for it not to be.
He made a way for love to be the final page in our story.
And so, here, as I sit in the meantime, in the in between pages, in this paragraph cozied up on our bed next to the man I love and father I adore and admire, I will hold sorrow and love together—one in each hand—bringing them together as I lift up my hands in prayer to the One who holds me and all these messy emotions together. Because of His great love. For me. For them. For us.