The Journey in October

This month's Journey at Still Standing snuck up on me.  It seems like I just finished writing last month's entry.  Time is such a funny thing.

Yesterday was Elena's due date anniversay.  Yesterday was hard, but not as raw as it was last year.  A year later (actually already more than 16 months later) I still feel cheated.  I suppose it's a feeling that will stay with me.  I hate dwelling on the "should's" because, really, who says what "should" and "shouldn't" be?  It sounds whiny and self-pitying, and I don't want to live in that place.  I want to find some sense of joy in life, not that I will ever "get over" my daughter, not that I will ever forget her or stop wishing that she was here, but I don't want to live in a place of hopelessness and despair.  I want to carry her loss with a sense of grace and dignity, to honor her life and ensure that something good comes from it, that her two hours here were not in vain.  I want to cling to the hope I have in Christ that I will embrace my sweet daughter again, that "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain..." (Revelation 21:4).  I want my life to reflect that hope.  Yet I still struggle, especially on anniversaries and holidays, with the "shoulds."

I should have been able to give Elena a huge first birthday celebration, just like her big brother had, and to watch her have her first taste of cake.  I should have a sweet one-year-old now, or should it be a 16 month old?  I struggle with that too, how old "should" Elena be?  Somewhere between 12 and 16 months, but where?  Would she be walking and saying her first words?  If she had lived, would we be dealing with significant effects of prematurity?  Would she have breezed through all of the challenges of an early birth just as her big brother did?  Not that it matters much, I would give everything to have her here, even if we did have to face some challenges.  She is my daughter, and I love her no matter what, and I want her so much!  I hate that I have to miss out on her entire life, on everything that "should have been," every milestone never to be achieved, every smile, coo, cry, word, snuggle, step, laugh.  She should have had the opportunity to experience all that life has to offer; instead, she had two hours in a delivery room inside of a hospital.  I want to give her so much more!

But where does all that get me?  Where does it get my family?  My mind goes there at times, but I try not to stay there.  I attempt to keep my focus on Home, where Elena is, where I will someday join her, where I know she is safe until I arrive there too.  And to keep my focus on the blessings I have here on earth, too numerous to even list.  And to focus on what a blessing Elena was and is, and how even if I couldn't keep her, I would not give up the time I had her for anything in the world.  That focus makes me smile, gives me a little peace, a bit of comfort, a taste of joy.  What I understand now (that I was not able to truly believe a year ago) is that feeling truly happy from time to time does not take away from Elena's memory, does not mean that I love her or miss her any less.  And I will admit that there are still times when I feel a pang of guilt when I am happy, but I no longer feel like a monster when I can find moments of happiness.

I feel like I have walked quite a distance on this grief journey and have changed immensely on the way, but I know that I am still just beginning.  I still have a long way to go.  I don't believe this grief journey will end until I am called Home.  After all, my precious daughter Elena is a huge part of who I am.  She always will be.  And for that I am truly thankful.