Our little guy is six months old today, and it's a little embarrassing that I didn't really think we could make it this far. I didn't have a particular alternative ending in mind, but maybe I thought everything would somehow just stop, grind to a halt, or I'd lose my marbles, or Jesus would come back.
Nope, still here.
I was four-and-a-half months pregnant with our baby when my youngest brother took his life, and in one-and-a-half months it will be one year since he left us. November 15th. Everything has changed. We are all silhouettes of our former selves, but truer and more completely human than we were before. It's a paradox that bends my mind a little more each day.
Death, inevitability, loss, eternity, hope, longing, torment, exhaustion, joy, lament, love.
And in the midst of life's frequent upheavals, a baby. A triumphant and bewildering baby. Solidly here, present, accepting, wide-eyed, and completely dependent.
How my heart ached for this life (mine) to be over, for the pain to stop, when my brother, my sweet baby brother, died. My wailing brought me as close to death as I've ever been. Inverted with pain, I hyperventilated and shook as my husband tried to hold me...as the baby within me held on for dear life. I wonder if he was frightened, if he wondered what was going on out there.
But he held on. And I held on to him, and his love has changed us.
"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." C.S. Lewis
At first, in those first weeks home with baby, life seemed to find new and creative ways to bring us to our knees. I nearly gave up breastfeeding. Sleep deprivation plus the crying, squirming, fragile newborn gave me symptoms like PTSD. Grief and horror over my brother didn't let up, but intensified due to sleeplessness and being emotionally exhausted as well.
I don't know when the morning came, but it came in spite of the darkness. Part of the relief came with medical help, with a couple of longer stretches of sleep, and certainly by the grace of God.
This little boy, with cheeks like plums, had a firm grip on our hearts. No longer did I fight the urge to bond out of fear of losing him; I gave in fully and kissed those cheeks with all of my heart - my broken, mourning heart. And even now, when I kiss him, a sort of pain is right alongside the love, but I welcome that as well. I don't know how long we'll get to be his parents, but he is a part of us now, just as we are a part of him.
It's with joy and awe that I celebrate his six-month birthday, a day I somehow believed wouldn't come. And as he sleeps in my lap now, warm and safe, I fight the urge to wake him with a kiss just so I can see that bright smile.
Who am I kidding? I typed this whole thing out with my left hand so that I wouldn't disturb him. I'm going to head over to Etsy and Pinterest while he's still snoozing :)
