{and still another} part of the story.

Bear with me. This post is a bit jumbled and all over the place...  

  I firmly believe we're all living out stories, stories worth sharing with others. Stories full of really beautiful things and terribly painful things. Stories that, if we look closely enough, display God's goodness and splendor.
  I've shared a few parts of my story {here and here}, and it seems fitting to just keep on telling it as it unfolds. Fitting because it reminds me of where I've been and how far God has carried me. Right now I find myself in a season of fullness. Of joy and healing of past hurts. Two years ago, though, I was in the midst of deep grief and heartache. Telling my story helps me remember that this season may not last forever, but God's faithfulness definitely does.
   This exact time two years ago, I was reeling from the loss of our first baby. A baby we hardly had a chance to know, but loved so deeply. I can confidently say that I will never forget those flat lines on the ultrasound monitor where our baby's heart beat should have been. Those first days, weeks, and months after our miscarriage were heavy and so hard. I think losing a child is one of the most unnatural things anyone can experience. It should never happen. But it does, and it's is just as tragic each time I hear another story or hold a friend's hand through their loss.
  For me, getting pregnant again initially seemed like the only redemption for our loss. Not to replace our sweet first baby, that would be impossible, but maybe to help heal my heart. So we started trying right away. And nothing. For a year, nothing. It probably goes without saying, but that was another hard season. Why wasn't the one thing that {I thought} could redeem that terrible, heart breaking thing happening?
  And that's where God met me. It became so much less about my idea of redeeming our loss and more about understanding God's idea of what that looks like. Isn't that the case too often? We get an expectation in our heads about how something should go, only to find out that God has a completely different plan. Choosing joy and learning to truly trust that God's plan, however different than my expectations, was what truly redeemed our loss. It didn't make it better or ok or erase the scar that I will carry around forever. But it did move me forward in my grief and heal my heart over time.
  From the outside looking in, it may seem that having Caleb makes up for never getting a chance to know our first baby. And in some ways, I guess it does. I'm finally able to feel like a mom, though I know I became a mom the moment I first knew I was pregnant two years ago. In the biggest ways, though, nothing will ever take away the sting of that loss. We will always miss that baby and look forward to holding them on the other side of heaven. February 15th will always be a heavy day for us, the day we should have met our little one.
  It would be pretty easy to get caught up in the tangible joy of having a healthy, happy baby after an easy pregnancy. It really would. And I'm sure that's what others see when they look at our little family. In a world where comparison is unavoidable, I hate that we can only see a small piece of a larger story when looking into someone else's world. I am so in love with Caleb and feel really, really fulfilled right now being his mom. Some deep longings to carry and know a healthy baby have been met. The hard seasons of loss and longing are over. But, that's not the whole of it. I'm trying to not take this time for granted. To soak it all up. Because this season may not last forever. There will be more longing and loss, I'm sure. I've been there before and will be there again. I'm so thankful, though, that I have a joy that isn't based on circumstances or what part of the story I'm experiencing. 
  Right now, I'm living in the part of my story that is full and redemptive. Two years ago, the very things I'm living out now seemed impossible. So distant. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't relieved to be out of that and into this season. Naturally. So I'm working on striking a balance of being fully present where I find myself; with longings fulfilled, a sweet new baby, and a full heart; and not forgetting where I've been; clinging to Jesus in the midst of grief and longing. Somedays, I feel guilty for this season of fullness. Other days, I remember that I need to be thankful. Right now and always.