If this most recent pregnancy had been smooth it would be very very likely I would be checking into the hospital at the latest tomorrow. I would have been 39 weeks tomorrow and set for c-section since I was opting that route given all the drama with my pregnancy with Ethan. Gabe's due date was actually May 10, and that will likely be one of my harder days yet since giving birth to his silent little body.
In reality, for the moment anyway, it is hard to imagine the what ifs for me. The realness of what really is stands in stark contrast for one. It simply is a matter of my past, our family history, at this point on the calendar.
Another reason it is hard for me to imagine is that we have so many other things occupying our hearts and minds at the immediate such as the worrying over my grandmother's recent fall and breaking of her hip that has landed her in a rehab facility and seemingly ushered in a new wave of dementia. The questions continue to arise as to whether she'll come home or what new lifestyle she and my granddaddy (and by default, my parents) may have in the days to come. For the very immediate, I also have my hands full trying to be wholly available to a little boy in the next room that is fighting a stomach bug. Knowing that this week was approaching - the silent storm you feel the warnings about - is enough to preoccupy the mind. But, to have it put on the back burner with true needs by those around you can be therapy in one sense.
And, third, I just don't know how to envision or dream or extrapolate things very easily - at least not beyond the reasonable. And, because I gravitate towards reality, it is hard to put that down and close my eyes to pretend what it would be if it were not so. I'm not sure that it is very healthy for me. I already know of the battles that I have had this far - the questions of why and the bitterness that bubbles up because of the lack of understanding I have. I don't think going and digging those back up really can solicit some new information or insight that could offer a solace. The loss will always hurt. The reality of holding my quiet and already gone little boy will always be fresh. I don't need additional heartache and sorrow in thinking through all the joys that I have missed.
Likely, a healthier alternative for me is to look forward and dream towards reality. Reality is that redemption is coming. Reality is that Gabriel is with the angels in heaven and my Savior and Lord. He can't have it better here. He escaped so much hurt, grief, sorrow, pain here. This earth is broken and it shows it in numerous ways every day. He didn't have to endure that. He was able to advance to the arms of our sweet Jesus prematurely, but he is reaping all that joy today. And, this is not dreaming an impossible dream. It is dreaming right in line with reality to come - the realities promised in God's Word from the same mouths that demonstrated fulfilled promise after another.
And, yet, as I type this...I know that quiet storm is still on the horizon. It is still coming. I may not sit and purposely pause to think of the what ifs and try to imagine. That is truly not my typical fashion. But, at the same time, I do get broadsided with the pictures of what life would have possibly been for us with another friend's pregnancy timeline. She's not a close friend. She doesn't post or "appear" much in my line of vision. But, I know in today's very publicly shared world, I am quickly approaching the days of newborn baby announcements and joy shared all across my computer screen or phone. I will be happy (modestly, I confess) for this friend. And, I will sorrow. I will sorrow because that *could have been* our story...if only...
...and that is the moment I fear the most right now - the moment I cannot possibly prepare adequately enough for.
