Thursday, March 17, 2011


"Imagine a love so strong that saying hello and goodbye at the same time was worth the sorrow"
-Author Unknown

My heart is aching lately. I feel so broken. I miss Aaron. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded of him and of what we are missing. This sorrow isn't always evoked by something in particular, but this time it has been and I know the trigger all too well. I drifted into a dream. A dream of a future family and a healthy baby. I wondered what it is like to have a twenty week ultrasound with the words "four chamber heart" and "completely healthy". Of holding our child for the first time, alive; a child that we would actually get to bring home, love and experience.

...and then reality crept in... waking me up with a slap in the face... breaking my heart.... reminding me...

Just because we've been through what has felt like walking through hell and back over the past several months, we are not promised a perfect road ahead of us. At times it is easy to slip into the mindset that just because we have been through something that feels almost impossible at times, that the rest will be easy. Not true. God is faithful, but He doesn't always promise easy. Certainly, we look to the future with great hope and pray for these things...healthy future children, a family... but we are not naive. Nothing is guaranteed; we are not exempt. I see pregnant women in their often naive bliss (where I once was for a short time, as well) and to be honest, I'm slightly envious. I want that. I don't want to know what the other side looks like, but I do...all too well. I know that on the other side, babies die. Parents have to say goodbye to the tiny life that they have anticipated for months and have only just met. They experience the greatest joy and deepest sorrow almost simultaneously. It's not fair, but they do. 

I realize that I may come across as quite the pessimist in this post... I am not. These thoughts are simply the result of loss, grief and a step into a world which I was once oblivious to. We truly do look to the future with hope, but through a lens that has been permanently altered. I think about a future child and I am instantly taken back to the overwhelming joy of having Aaron and the sudden heartbreak of losing him. I know that God hears us in our brokenness, but the void that Aaron has left has nearly crushed me in the past several months. Can I handle that again if God calls us to walk through it? Can my heart be open and vulnerable to that depth of love once more, and possibly, that depth of heartbreak again? 

This is the uncertainty with which we face the future.  We drift into these dreams, yet in this grief, we find that even our dreams aren't safe from reality. 


  1. We truly do look to the future with hope, but through a lens that has been permanently altered.- Perfectly said. This is exactly how I also feel. I have hope and faith for the future, but it is not the same. For me, it's almost tainted a little. Thinking of you and your sweet Aaron.

  2. Sweet Danielle,
    "We truly do look to the future with hope, but through a lens that has been permanently altered"... I agree with Lauren, that is perfectly said. I completely agree in that I also feel envious of that whole "ignorance is bliss". That normal to us consists of rare infections and conditions. That our reality of a healthy baby is rare. Honestly, that is probably going to be a struggle for the rest of my life. But, the truth is (as frustrating as it can sound to me at times) the Lord does have a purpose and a plan. I believe that purpose is so absolutely intricate, and involves so much and so many, there is not enough time in our lifetimes for the Lord to help us to understand. But He is our strength. My cousin told me, the Lord doesn't give you the strength to IMAGINE walking through the valley, He gives you the strength you need to WALK through the valley if and when you need to. The thoughts of "can I handle this again if the Lord ever asks me to?" are constantly in my mind. But, the Lord has joy for us, Danielle. He has promised. He wants to bless your life. He promises the desires of your heart. He wants us to lay our worries at His feet. He wants you, someone He knows is such a blessing to so many, to be blessed. He loves you, and He knows exactly where He needs to meet us in our faith. He WILL meet you there, Danielle. He will carry this hurt for you, it's just a matter of handing it over. Praying for peace and comfort. I know He is working in you this very second, and that brings peace and a smile to me. Love in Christ. ~Jess

  3. Once again I wish I had the magic words to write to ease your pain. You do not sound pessimistic at all. I too am envious of that naive bliss of pregnant women. I am even envious of people who talk about their plans of having children a certain number of years apart or how old they will be when they have each child. Negative me tries very hard not to say anything to burst this bliss.

    I so wish that neither of us had to walk this road. And, I always said that after we buried Jake that if we had another child die I wanted to be buried with him. We were so very lucky/blessed to have had the twins. And, then I let myself enter into the edge of that bliss when we had Sawyer. When he died I knew I could not be buried with him. I have to get up every day and wait to be with him and Jake. In the meantime, I am just going to take life day by day.

    I hesitate to share my story at times because I know it is a parent's worst nightmare (to bury 2 children) but I do share because I hope that maybe our story can offer some hope (or comfort in knowing that you are not alone). Sorry for the long comment. Take care of yourself.


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