Today is another painful day in our journey of loss. Sweet Reagan's due date. I don't know exactly how to feel today...we knew she would not have actually been born today. We always thought she would come early, probably sometime in February, but there is still this sorrow associated with today. I spoke with another mom who had a loss about it, about how it was still so difficult even though it was a day that would have meant nothing had she lived. But, for the entire pregnancy, this is the day you count down to, look forward to, dream about.
Last year, her due date was absolutely awful. We had a wonderful trip to the beach planned to have some time to rest and celebrate her life. And I ended up in the hospital a few weeks before and told not to travel. And, just the day before her due date, we were told by the specialist that we should expect to miscarry at any second. That the twins would not make it. That at 11 weeks, the boys would not live to see 12. I remember spending the weekend in utter despair and crying out to God that we wouldn't have to endure the pain anymore. The physical pain I was in from the pregnancy complications plus the emotional pain of what we lost put me over the edge. Andrew finally convinced me to take a full dose of my pain medication and I vaguely remember him holding me tight as I sobbed and eventually drifted off into sleep.
Today, one year later, life looks so different. God performed a miracle and saved little Warren and Dean. I have been immensely blessed to watch them grow and develop despite their trials in the womb and very premature birth. Part of me will always wonder and question why God didn't chose to perform that same miracle with Reagan. And part of me will always feel a sudden pain and anguish when I see other little girls. I pray that will one day go away, that I will be completely filled with God's grace and peace that I no longer feel that way. But today, it is just bubbling up fresh.
There is so much joy that I associate with Reagan's life. God used her, her short life, and my love for her, to teach me so much about Him and others. Nothing will ever be the same. I often find myself only blogging when I have these moments of immense pain and loss, but I am really so grateful for every moment I spent with her. I'm grateful for the video we have of her dancing away in my tummy, smiling at the camera, sucking on her thumb. I love that she was the first little one I ever felt kick, that Andrew got to feel that. I love the little pieces of her that have found their way into every room in our house - pictures, butterflies, board, mementos.
One verse is hanging on our bathroom mirror, has been since about a month after her birth. Romans 15:13 "May the God of HOPE fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit" We serve a God of hope, even on days like today. Even as I sat sobbing in the chair clinging onto my boys (who are old enough and aware enough now to just both stare at me with big eyes of concern, looking from my face to each other and back again). God is bigger than all my pain. And, on days like today, I must be in constant pray that I will remember what Reagan is doing. That she's dancing away in heaven, playing with her brother, singing with a perfect little voice. As I look at her footprints, I imagine those tiny little feet running through the flowers, see her blonde curls bouncing, and her face lit up in laughter. She's not here with me, crying because she's hungry/tired or needing/longing for anything. She is perfectly satisfied in a place without sin.
We love you always, Reagan.