It´s About That Time

So, my medical leave has come to an end. It´s been 18 days since I delivered our little girl.

Delivering a baby, by the way, in Spanish, is called "giving light" or "giving the light." Not quite sure why it´s called that. (Might be an interesting thing to research.) I wonder if they still use that phrase when the baby is stillborn. When we were making plans to go to the hospital after the baby died, the doctors used the word "expulse."

I´ve been up and down, busy with Aaron, trying to feel, to process this strange nightmare-like/dream-like experience, and mostly just walking around with a negative-ness clinging as a backdrop. I am starting to return this week to some of the normal activities of my life. It is a good thing. I think if it weren´t a necessity, I might continue to stay isolated for weeks or months to come.

Last night I returned to the new-found practice that I started in January, inspired by Ann Voskamp, of writing down blessings, things I´m thankful for. I realized that in the wake of Rebeca´s departure, drained of energy and motivation, I stopped. Time stopped. While the pause is understandable, I think it´s healthy and even important to look for gifts at all times, but especially in times like these, times of trauma, times of being lost.

So, I resume....

*the plastic cover on Aaron´s stroller on a cold, windy day
*lentil vinagrette salad
*red tulips from Ruben, delivered by Aaron
*mashed potatoes with cheddar cheese on top
*laughing with Aaron at the "burping ostrich"
*blooming rosemary
*sunset at Tibidabo
*cuddling for story time

Looking, searching, watching....while I´m still lacking motivation to do great, deep Biblical studies at this time, I can still hunt for His blessings in my surroundings, in my day-to-day.

Last night I cried myself to sleep, hugging a little pink blanket that was given to us for Rebeca. I think tonight I will do the same. Where is the end of this road of grief? Where is the light at the end of this deep, heavy tunnel of lostness? Its beginning is now, just starting, with many steps to go, maybe the rest of my life. Its end? I don´t know.....but I choose to walk through this darkness, grasping for His hand, searching for His face.

Heavenly Father, who too lost a child, Your precious and only Son, I draw near to You, knowing that You understand, You care and You carry me. Thank You for being close to me. Amen.