Quinque

Quinque.  Quinque is the Latin word for five.  We don't know if Quinn is a boy or a girl, but we wanted our baby to have a meaningful name (and at least one family name), just like all of our other children.  So we named Quinn "Five" since s/he was our fifth baby, with the middle name August, a family name and also a month in which Quinn lived inside my womb.  And now it has been five years without Quinn.  It hits a little differently this year.  Quinque. 

Sweet Baby Quinn, it's been five years now. Five years without you. Five years missing you daily. Five years struggling to come to terms that your brothers will not have the baby sibling they so desire, that we won't hold another newborn or potty train another toddler or have another first day of preschool. You should be busy playing, exploring, and learning your colors, numbers, and ABCs, keeping me company one more year while your brothers are at school. I bet your favorite part of the day would be afternoon pickup when they'd come home. 

It's hard to believe you wouldn't be a baby anymore. I'm sure you'd be keeping up with your big brothers and keeping your Daddy and me on our toes. You'd be as busy as the rest of the kids, and life would be even more wonderfully chaotic. 

I miss you. We all miss you. We cling to the hope in the Resurrection that someday we will see you face to face. Until then, we keep loving you here in this broken world and rejoice that there is no pain or brokenness in heaven. 

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." Psalm 139:13-16

Fourteen

Another year has passed. Time does NOT heal all wounds. Still not a day goes by that she isn't missed in our house. We still love her as fiercely as ever. 

The weight of her absence changes. It's still ever present, but it's different. Usually it's simply a weight we're used to carrying, but occasionally it can still be nearly unbearable. 

I had a procedure the other day that required a pregnancy test beforehand. The tech came over and joked, "Congratulations! You're pregnant!" I was able to laugh it off in the moment, knowing after a decade of secondary infertility that I'm NOT pregnant. But it still stung and it's been heavy to carry. It's hard when children are missing in your home. And not that any new baby can replace a missing one, but we feel to the core what a blessing babies are, and to make light of that was hurtful, especially in May. 

Oh May! Baby Quinn should have turned 4 early this month, and sweet Elena would be 14 today.

That impossible question -How many children do you have?- still gets me. When I claim my 5 children, people look at me funny or even "correct" me; but when I deny 2 of them, it hurts my heart. And even more difficult are the comments and questions about having all boys. Didn't you want a girl? Well, actually, I had a girl. She died. And then when I see my boys having to navigate similar questions about siblings and field insensitive replies, my heart aches for them, too. 

May is hard. But usually the weight isn't so crushing anymore. The joy and the grief dance together, and usually the joy takes the lead. We focus on the blessings of our sweet babies and the wonderful reunion awaiting us in heaven. 

Happy 14th Birthday, our sweet Elena! We love you and miss you and can't wait to wrap our arms around you again! 

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:19-21