Even now as I sit at the computer, I wrote last night's post first and then attempted to begin this one yet again because it was so much easier to write about the crazy lady at Walmart than the one I need to write. The one that is always on my heart and in my throat.
But I need to get this one out. It is literally eating me alive inside. Sometimes so much so to the point that it paralyzes me at night when I am lying in bed.
I guess the quickest way to show you all where I'm at is to tell you what happened at the Discovery Center on Saturday.
I took the kids there to play in Tiny Town and it was fairly empty, really nice and quiet. We were having a great time and Sydney was playing with another little girl and I started chatting with her mom about hair products for the girls' curly hair. Really pleasant conversation. Then she asked me if we had just the three children, and I immediately replied, yes just the three. But, then something inside my just snapped or broke or gave way or something.
And I said, very quietly, no. That's not true. We have four. We just lost one of them.
And then I totally and completely just lost it. Right there in the middle of Tiny Town. Right in front of a complete stranger. She said she was sorry. We tried to pretend like I hadn't just lost it and she left soon thereafter.
Well, that's it. In a nutshell. I have four children. I have four children. But I only have three of them. And I am not okay with it.
I am happy and grateful and love each and every one of them dearly. I love Sydney. I love Jonathan. I love Brock. I love Braden.
But it seems like no one remembers Jonathan. I do. Oh, how I do.
God gave me a gift before Jonathan died that I treasure and cherish. He allowed me to meet Jonathan in a dream the night before I lost him. Some of you may remember the dream, some may not, I will retell it here anyway because it does my heart good to recount it every chance I get.
My husband and I were in an orphanage looking at the children. Across the room I saw a little boy I knew immediately to be our son. We went over to him and saw that he had three arms. I remember thinking to myself, it's a good thing I am learning how to sew so I can make clothes for him. I was so pleased I could meet my son's needs! I asked him how old he was and he held up seven fingers on two of his hands. We smiled at each other and God blessed me with experiencing the love of my son. I delighted in his presence. Then he held up his other hand and waved to me saying, "Goodbye, Mommy." My eyes filled with tears and I woke up. Tears were streaming down my face and I quickly awoke Tony to share this dream with him.
It was just minutes later that I began to miscarry.
And I still do treasure that dream, even now. But it has begun to be a bit of a double edged sword now. The very part of it that comforted me for so long- the smile, the wave, and the bye mommy- Jonathan's brothers have started to do that very thing two dozen times a day. And I see Jonathan's face and I hear his voice each and every time. And it hurts so very much. And I know, and hope, that one day this could be a good thing, a comforting thing, but right now, it is just painful because it is all I have had of Jonathan. And I have been clinging to it like a lifeline to him because he is my son and I don't want to let go of him. I can't. I have so many wonderful things to share with Brock and Braden and Sydney. So many, many wonderful things that I love to cherish and treasure about them. When I see them wave to me and say bye-bye mama, of course I love it, but it hurts because it brings back the only memory I have of Jonathan. The one that I have comforted my heart and soul with in the dark of night. And that I'll never have anything more than that with him this side of Heaven.
Tony said, maybe it's God's way of showing me Jonathan through his brothers. I think he's probably right, but it still hurts so very much. Because there is only one thing I really want.
I want another dream.
More than anything else in the whole wide world. I want another dream with Jonathan. Just one more dream. I lay in bed at night with a softball in my throat begging God, pleading with Him to grant me just one more minute, no five more minutes with my son. Please. Please. PLEASE. Just five more minutes. PLEASE I need to see him just one more time. I need to see his face-hear his voice. Just linger in his presence. It was magnificent. Just magnificent.