A Gift For the Grieving

The wounds are still there. They may not be as fresh as they once were, but they still hurt and may tear open unexpectedly. It's a rare thing that an hour passes when I'm awake that I don't think of Avery at some point. Only yesterday I dissolved into tears thinking of how beautiful she was. I sat there in our living room, talking to Erin on the phone, surrounded by pictures of our daughter when it struck me. I admit that I'm biased. Every parent believes their babies to be the prettiest or most handsome. At that moment though I was again overwhelmed by the thought that I'd never get to see exactly how lovely Avery would grow to be. That is heart-wrenchingly painful. 

   I could fill pages on how painful this has been; chapters of tearful moments. That's not what this entry is about though. Three months ago, in my last blog post, I wrote that Erin and I had not given up on a family. I told of how we still wanted children and around a week later we learned that Erin was once again pregnant. To be clear, this was not planned or expected. I had written of rhetorical futures and hopeful dreams. In truth, without going into the details, we believed it wasn't even possible at the time. As we clutched at each other, desperately trying to find comfort from the only other person who could hurt as deeply, there was only one baby on our minds. Here we are though, seventeen and a half weeks into a new life. We are hopeful and terrified by turns. We're also happy to be expecting, but saddened at how the joy we should be feeling has been tempered by our loss. In the end though it is our hope at a brighter future that is pulling us from the sea of grief we've been adrift in. For that, and other reasons left unwritten, this baby is truly a gift to be thankful for.