2 Years

" If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died- you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift" - Elizabeth Edwards. 

Today it has been two years since we found our sweet baby boy in his crib, not breathing. It's been two years of learning to live with grief by my side, and learning what it is like to always feel as if I'm forgetting something when leaving the house. (Oh that's right, my son!). My arms and my heart often feel empty. And yet somehow we've continued to live; through loving and supportive friends and family, and a very merciful God. 

I've kind of been dreading this day for awhile now. And in reality it's actually not much differerent than every other day. I don't feel more sad today then I did yesterday.  And I haven't sat around and been extra sad just because it's the anniversary of my son's death. But yes, it does bother me that it's been two years since we said goodbye to our son, for tomorrow we will have lived longer without him than we did with him. And that is just not fair.  And it hurts a lot. 

And although we feel so blessed to have two precious babies on the way, and a healthy 7 year old daughter that keeps us on our toes, for today my heart is tender and I will take a moment to pause, reflect, and feel extra sad.  I could almost write a book of all the lessons I've learned within these past two years, how I see life through a different set of eyes, how I've grown into a stronger and more compassionate person and seen so many tender mercies given to our family from the Lord.  But all of those things do not go without saying that it's been hard in just as many ways. And I still miss my Lincoln every second of every day. 

I've said this many times before but I am forever grateful for all the amazing life lessons that my son taught me in his two short years on earth. He taught me more than I ever could have taught him. And for that I am eternally grateful. 

I think as time goes on people expect (or assume) that we have healed. That it's ok now, or that it should be ok. That since we see all the blessings that we've been given, by having Lincoln as part of our family, that all of that makes it better. And makes it ok. But it doesn't.  The grief is always there.  I can’t go around it. I can't go over it, or under it or avoid it. It's just next to me and present, and I must continue to live through it, again and again. The loss and the heartache continue.  But at the same time, I choose to live. I live for my daughter, and my husband and my unborn children. And for my friends and family who have walked down this dark path with me. And I choose to see happiness and joy in each and every day, which is another life lesson Lincoln taught me very early on. We love you Lincoln. To the moon and back.