Feeling sick tonight.  




Oh, Maggie, mommy misses you, sweet girl. 

I miss that overflowing joy that came with preparing for and dreaming of our life with her.  I drive myself mad wondering what she might have looked like at 1 month old, 6 months old, 1 year, 10 years . . . . . 16 . . . . . 20.  Her wedding day.

Lord, I don't get it . . . and it hurts. SO. BADLY.

It feels a little bit hopeless sometimes.  A little bit frantic.  A little bit lonely.   A whole lot broken and incomplete.


I don't know if that part will ever get any easier to take.  Two years and I am still appalled that she won't ever be here with us.  Sleep eludes me.  I miss snuggling next to Emmitt each night as I turn in for bed.  He sleeps a few feet away in a room and bed of his own now.  When Noah was born, we were new, unsure and learned as we went.  By the time Mason arrived, we settled quickly into the comfort and familiarity of having been there and done that once.

Then our Maggie died.

On my watch.

Inside of me.

And everything changed.  

Emmitt was born and things that once seemed so important no longer held any weight.  The thought of losing another child sent me into a tailspin of panic and fear.  I could not bear to lay him down as he slept, the image of Maggie etched in the forefront of my mind.

Eyes closed. Tiny lips parted. So, so still.  As if she were just sleeping.

For eight months, Emmitt spent his nights sleeping soundly in the crook of my arm, breathing in and out alongside of me as I soaked up his warmth and sweet heart beating.  My arms ache for him in a sad, unsettling kind of way.  He is thriving and learning so much as he conquers small but important victories of independence.  Each day, he is growing a little more . . . needing me a little less.  It kind of fills and breaks my heart all at the same time.

Feeling sick in the pit of my stomach tonight.  A lost, frantic she-is-There-and-I-am-here, time marching on and taking my boys with it, world spinning faster than I can catch my breath sort of sick.

God is still working on this heart of mine.  There is still much mending to be done.  Life-long mending.  Stitching and re-stitching of places that continue to unravel in me.  Waiting for the careful Tailor to repair what has come undone and fashion this life for the purpose He has created it for.

"Answer me quickly, O LORD; my spirit fails;
Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.
Rescue me from my enemies, O LORD, for I hide myself in you.
Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground.

For your name’s sake, O LORD, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble.
In your unfailing love, silence my enemies; destroy all my foes, for I am your servant."

-Psalm 143:7-12