There is no greater agony, than bearing an untold story inside you.
It has been six weeks since my last post. I sat at my dining table and wrote about those-we-have-not-yet-seen.html while I lovingly put a hand over my womb, carrying a new life that the world did not yet know about. That blog post was bittersweet, because it had rubbed raw the memories of the loss of our second baby. It was also healing to be able to feel the joy of a new baby inside me; this would be our fourth.
Two weeks after that Monday morning that I posted here, we went in for our first ultrasound.
For sale: Baby shoes; never worn.
Many times when I watch my son and daughter run and play, I see my third, a boy running along with them. I hear him laugh. I imagine him also hugging me when the two who live here on earth have their chubby arms round my neck. When I see families with three kids, there is an ache in my chest because I do have three children of my own; but one of them doesn't live with us. He lives with God.
In the April of 2015, I lost my second child through a miscarriage. I miss him inexplicably.
If you haven't already, you can read about my story with him here: the-second-wave.html
In the last two months, several of my dear friends have lost children. I have mourned six miscarriages in these past eight weeks.
Happy New Year folks!
I've missed you...if that makes any sense :D. I've come to know so many of you, and had some incredible conversations. Hearing time and time again of a person's pain so similar to mine, and how God has shone light into people's hearts through my own dark valley, well...there's nothing quite like it. Thank you for the comments and emails, you've given me perspective, encouraged me deeply and made me cry tears of joy. Keep 'em coming :).
Keeping it short today.
In December, we remember.
We remember our wedding day. God has blessed us with 5 beautiful years now.
Our vows have been lived out in reverse. The worse came before the better. The poorer came before the richer. The sickness came before the health. Yet G0d has sustained our marriage, filling it with His peace and joy.
We remember our son, whom we never got to meet. He would have turned two this month. The grief, I'm not sure it will ever go. It feels like a tattoo on our hearts. But our experience of it changes slowly. This year I found myself grateful.
Grateful that the good Lord showed us great kindness in giving us a child. A child with eternity written on his heart, who I shall see and live with forever on that great day.
Grateful that He walked me through the valley of the shadow of death, bringing me safe into the light of His truth once again.
Grateful for the unspeakable love that grew between Bryan and I as we navigated the dark and frigid waters of grief.
I am most grateful for the deep knowledge of my Saviour that I now have. Nothing opens the eyes of your heart to the majesty, sovereignity and great love of God, like suffering does. I would never give this up, not for a moment.
In December we remember God becoming man. I have been speechless this year trying to thank God for His Son Jesus and His great sacrifice on the Cross, dying the death I deserved to die and ressurecting so that I may live in His ressurection, for all eternity with Him.
It's been a beautiful month for my husband as well, having being recognized as one of the top 40 under 40 businessmen in East Africa, two weeks before his 30th birthday. And finally, he joins me in the 30's...I've endured his cradle snatcher jokes for too long, LOL.
Happy Holidays guysThank you for the gift you have given me this year, reading what I write, sharing oyur experiences with me, and becoming my friends.
No longer will there be a curse upon anything. For the throne of God and of the Lamb will be there, and his servants will worship him. 4 And they will see his face, and his name will be written on their foreheads.5 And there will be no night there—no need for lamps or sun—for the Lord God will shine on them. And they will reign forever and ever.
Here's some of our wedding pictures 5 years ago.
(might need to copy-paste into your searchbar if it doesn't come up as a link.)
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.
My son turned one in July 2014. His second year was incredibly rewarding. He was, and remains so, the funniest, most boisterous, strong-willed child we had ever known. He is at once headstrong and tenderhearted. And finally, I was enjoying motherhood. I woke up genuinely excited to start our day. What seemed like insurmountable tasks before, had turned into simple gratifying times together. I didn't mind having breakfast with him, taking walks with him, putting him down for a nap, giving him his bath...all of it. And he wanted to be with me. He would gurgle and squeal whenever I would enter the room. He put his arms tight around my neck when I carried him. He would stroke my face as I held him in the rocking chair, lulling him to sleep. It was glorious. I couldn't thank God enough, and I still can't. My son and I became inseparable.
Christian, wife, mom, doctor, and an alien on earth, on my way to the city of God.