Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting
the soul that rises with us, our life's star
hath had elsewhere its setting
and cometh from afar
I've been absent, I know. I posted to comfort myself the day of the Newtown tragedy, and I've kind of dropped off since then. It's been hard to stay positive, wrapped up in social media, so I had to unwrap myself for a little while, but now I need to write another post. You may wonder, once you realize the topic of this post, how it fits into my "positive living" theme, but hopefully once I've rambled long enough, I'll bring some clarity.
Damien was a surprise. I was on birth control, Kyle and I weren't married yet, he was in the Delayed Enlistment Program waiting to ship out to Air Force Basic Training at any time, and we had both just BARELY let down our guards enough to realize we were deeply in love with each other. We were in no position to be having babies, but there he was. So we had him. Due to the circumstances and timing, we WERE able to get married before he was born, but Kyle was NOT able to be home for the birth. But everything fell into place, and I believe firmly that Damien saved us. He prompted us both to be better, and made us grow up a little.
When he was less than a year old, we decided we'd like to have another. We wanted our kids close together, and Kyle was in an extended training period so we thought that would be a great time to have another baby- no danger of deployments or TDYs that could make him miss out on the birth of another child. After many months, we realized that our plan was not in the stars. We decided that maybe we'd just have the one child and be happy as a little family of three. After we moved to Georgia, we were at church one Sunday and I took Damien out into the hallway because he was being loud. There were a few children playing in the foyer, and as I watched them a gigantic freight-train of a prompting hit me: a spirit was waiting, right that minute, to come join our family. Within a month, we found out I was pregnant with Lyric.
Kyle wanted to stick with two kids. But as you see, we just don't get to choose. When Lyric was born, Kyle held her in the hospital and the baby-train hit HIM in the heart, and told him we had another child waiting. Thankfully, he waited at least until my epidural wore off to tell me that we were going to do this again. Last November, we decided it was time to try for Baby Wilson #3. Fast-forward to this Christmas, 13 months later, and obviously (unless I'm missing something) we still only have two children.
This past Thursday, I tested positive.
Saturday, I began the process of miscarriage.
I'm ok. I'm sick, and crampy, and physically pretty miserable. But I'm ok. I've had a hard time expressing to the few people who know about this just how I'm feeling, so I'm going to try to express is here. I'm doing alright, and this is why:
I believe that we existed as spirit children of God before we were assigned physical bodies and came to inhabit them. To receive our bodies was one of the primary purposes of mortal existence, and it was promised to every spirit who chose to follow God's plan in that Spirit world. I believe that every single one of God's spirit children will draw mortal breath. And therefore, I believe that the spirit that was assigned to the body I would have carried will be granted mortal life when it's the right time. If that spirit was meant to be my child, it will be my child. My baby is alive, waiting for its turn at life. Heavenly Father has seen to it that I got the right children at the right times despite my attempts at choosing my own schedule, and I firmly believe that He will continue to do so.
I'm disappointed, of course. I yearn for my third child. I know my family of four is meant to be five. But I also know that I have a loving and compassionate Father in Heaven who is watching out for me. He can help me find the lessons and strength I can draw from this very brief experience, and He will also ensure that the right little spirit comes to me at the right time. I wonder if that spirit is waiting as impatiently to come here as I am for it to arrive? Whenever it makes the journey, I'll be ready. I've never been in charge- that's been made very clear to me. And maybe it's to help me learn patience. Maybe it's to help me learn humility. Maybe it's to help better equip me to mourn with those who mourn, or give comfort to those who stand in need. Whatever I can learn from this, I know that it will help me be the mommy that my impatient little spirit baby will need when it comes.
I don't want my friends and family to worry about me, or to mourn for me- I am content and I will be healthy in time. I feel strongly that I'm meant to be open about my trials- not just this one, but many that I've chosen or experienced. I want all you wonderful friends to know that I have a beautiful life, and I am very happy, though I am so imperfect. I am alive through Christ, who strengthens me. When He atoned for my sins, He also atoned for my sorrows and sicknesses and weaknesses, and I never stand alone. You never stand alone.
