I’m aware of the milestones I pass each step of this difficult journey. In January I counted the weeks. Then it had been a month since my baby died. I began counting the months and keeping track of how big she would have been.
Each milestone passes by. Three months…another loss comes to our family during what should be a time of joy (my seven year old’s birthday).
Four months…I've seen the births of the new Duggar grandbaby, the royal baby, and a friend’s sweet little girl. As I hold that precious child, I think: “This should be one of Faith’s best friends.” They would've been less than two months apart in age.
I watch my daughter play with the toddlers at church. She loves to play with them, acting like a little mother hen. My eyes well up as she takes a little girl by the hand and climbs the stairs with her.
My one year old nephew squeals and rejoices to see my seven year old, calling out his baby version of Sarah, one of about four or five words he attempts at this point. I wonder if he would pick up the word ‘baby’ quickly if Faith were alive. I rejoice that Sarah has so many kids to love on.
But when she comes to me in the evening and tells me she misses the babies, I know she’s grieving, too.
On Friday it will be five months. Five months and it’s the month for mothers, May. May has always been a big celebration month in my family with both my grandmas born in May along with Mother’s Day.
I plan a time to take flowers to my precious girl for Memorial Day weekend. Memorial Day…a day to reflect on the lives of soldiers lost, but also has become a day to remember anyone we’ve lost.
I think about how different my life would be right now if I were still pregnant. With all the muggy weather, I’d probably be a bear to live with complaining about how hot it is. I’d be putting the final touches on things for my sweet little girl. I’d be feeling her every move inside of me. I’d be talking to her as I went about my day.
Most importantly, I’d be counting down. Today is sixteen days from my due date of June 5th.
If our March loss, baby Reese, had lived I would be on my knees multiple times a day praying for safety for the precious life inside of me because I’d be about fifteen weeks along, the same age Faith was when my water broke.
Instead, it’s just another day. A Wednesday. Cloudy but warm outside. Agenda for today: shower, eat, clean up the kitchen, do schoolwork with Sarah, straighten the house, dinner, call my husband, Bible study with a friend, put Sarah to bed, and relax for a bit before falling asleep. Same as most Wednesdays. Nothing too impressive on the world’s radar.
For me, it’s a milestone. Because each day I get up and put clothes on is another day I didn’t let the enemy take over my thoughts and my life. Each day I do what I need to do instead of curling up in a ball of grief is a day that God’s strength is victorious in my life. Each day that I choose to turn to God as He lifts me up and strengthens me to walk this difficult road is a miracle.
And miracles are always milestones.