22 months. Silas lovingly and rather insistingly picked out the best, biggest, bluest flower for Jude this time. He was so excited to make sure Jude was going to love his flower. I love his love for his brother.
And only days before his new sibling is expected to arrive. Its been a hard thing to talk about – this new pregnancy has been an answer to many prayers, yet it’s been an incredibly hard process to go through too. Especially now, as I creep closer to that milestone of 38 weeks, which was when our Jude left this earth for his eternal home. My days are blissfully busy, keeping my mind off of the “worst possible scenario” most days, able to take several times a day to count kicks. But the nights are rough. I wake up wondering what is going on in my body, worrying and fearing and panicking. And missing Jude. That loss seems heavier and more present now than it has in months. These 22 months feel more like 22 days. How could it be that he would almost be a rambunctious little 2 year old, running around the house, probably doing a pretty good job of keeping up with his brothers. To know that we are thisclose again to welcoming a baby into our home, peeking into the nursery as I pass it many times a day, seeing the pure joy in my boys’ eyes again of planning life with a new member of the family, yet cringing every time someone talks about how great it’s going to be to have the baby here. Yes, it’s going to be glorious, but I haven’t been able to let that wellspring of joy out just yet. I know what can happen. I know how much it hurts. I can’t fathom having to do it again. But I know I can trust Him. He’s all I have. So we trust God for these next few days, knowing that no matter what happens then, or in a week, or a month, or ten years from now, we can trust Him. It is well with our souls.