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| Jack Oliver Young 6.30.11 |
So here we are...the fourth June since Jack died. It always kinda sneaks up on me.
Not really but really, I can be chugging along nicely and out of nowhere, something will remind me of the events from June of 2011. You'd think that, four years later, that would subside. but it doesn't. And I don't want it to. ever.
For example, the garden tub that I gave birth in...one of the downsides (one of the only down sides to home birth is when the baby dies....you don't get to leave the place that triggers all of your memories) is being around all the things that remind you....I will never not think of Jack when I'm in that bathroom, or cleaning that tub, as I was the other day....or bathing my little chick in there....I just never will...four years out, I can safely say that Jack will be forever tied to that tub. Same with the pool...I will never forget that that is the one place I spent his last living on earth moments with him. I will just never forget that, every single time I get in that pool, I think of that. When it's covered and filled with goo and leaves, I think of that beautiful end of June day and my beautiful, brown haired boy. (being in the water really took my mind off of labor and took the edge off of discomfort so water birthing is the way to go y'all)...
I don't know what my point is...I just felt I needed to blog tonight. I was looking through pics and came up on this one of David holding Jack and there are just so many things that I absolutely LOVE about it...David's hands (he has the best hands), lovingly holding his 4th son. He was so good about checking him all out...I wish I could go back and be less in shock so I could really sniff him, check him out, just hold him and tell him how much I love him...but I can't so I will cherish this beautiful pic that one of the nurses snapped. (so so so thankful for the pics that were captured!!) I love his perfect little head, the little ring around his crown, his perfect hair. his forehead. Oh gosh, his forehead kills me. that perfect little nose that I want to beep. The way his little leg is resting under the blanket, on his daddy's arm. that perfect little blend of Greenhill and Young, McCoy and Taylor. How he looks like he's just sleeping and so beautiful. man. The blanket...how many new baby pics have I seen since then, and every time, it is like a punch in the gut...why why why??
I had some moments not too long ago, where I was just kinda miffed at God...and I've probably blogged about it but maybe not...a mom goes through 9 months of toil, her body not being her own, general discomfort and weirdness (and when you've had previous miscarriages or losses, making it through 9 months is extra amazing!!)....you make it to the magical date...and in Jack's case, beyond that magical date. The thing that kept me sane and going was knowing that he'd be in my arms soon enough and our family would finally be complete.
When the baby dies at the finish line, well...that just sucks. badly. And I had this discussion with God that that is just not a nice thing to allow, even in our world's fallen state...babies don't die, or at least, they shouldn't. The living, squawking, breathing baby is the prize you as the momma get for making it through all that growing, kicking and urping, and smelling weird, and craving, and grouching, etc.
I know, I know...there is a reason for this, some of which I know of, and some I am unaware of. The growth and new eyes that I've received in the past four years, well.....I'd never give back. The sense of God's presence in my life is worth more to me than anything I possess, or any person that I have the privilege of being with...the realness of Jesus Christ and the sacrifice He became for me, for all of us, on the cross has only become more amazing to me. If Jack had lived, I'm not sure I'd be so heavenly-minded or open to the things I've learned in the past 47+ months.
That precious baby boy was no mistake. He was alive and real. I'm so extremely thankful for him, that I can't stay mopey and depressing for too long. yes, I still cry. a lot more than you'd think.
I so wish I could figure out how to add the little audio clip of his heart beat at 15 weeks...I've been listening to it all week and it just rocks my flip flops off....if you ever happen to be over here, I'll let you listen to it. It. IS. AMAZING!
Well, I need to get to bed...I mowed the yard today with no self-propelled action on the mower, also while tending to the chickens that were free-ranging (one of which was the rooster, Hannibal = jerk chicken)...I'm tired and sore. Whilst freshening up the chickens' water, he attempted to attack me, which is very scary to endure (am I right, Becky?)...so attempting to run away from him while NOT turning my back on him, I tripped and flipped head over heels, nearly clipping the retaining wall...quite a sight, I'm sure! Molly watched the whole thing (which reminds me, I need to blog about her intense bicycling accident from last Thursday...tomorrow) and proceeds to tell me "That was wild!!! Are you OK?????"
I'm so old and sore tonight...so from these aching hands and heart, to you....Good night. God bless you.
