I was going to post something really profound that i thought of today while I was driving. Unfortunately, by the time I got home it was completely gone. Maybe it is fortunate, however, because then I must share this little bit of information about me.
This time of year is always hard for me. We lost our first baby on this day, 18 years ago. I was fourteen weeks along or so, and it was especially difficult because I had been told (obviously by some quack) that I would probably never be able to carry to full term due to issues with scarring and swelling from rheumatic arthritis. I was so excited when I found out I was pregnant, we had been engaged for a few months and were already looking forward to a life together. When the cramping started, I was in complete denial. It was one of the most painful times of my life, emotionally and physically. Zane and I had already planned to get married on the 20th, and my family was encouraging us to put that off, to not go through with the wedding while we were still so upset.
I'm glad we didn't listen, because we learned to lean on each other. There were times when I was in such a dark depression that the relationship was awful. We weren't as close as we were, we weren't as loving. Not only did I lose a baby, but I gained the fear that I would never have a baby, that I was being punished for the choices I made in high school, in life. We barely operated as housemates, much less partners. But we did pull together because we suffered the same painful loss. The baby was part of him, and part of me, and was supposed to be part of our family. We didn't even name the baby for a long time, because I didn't even want to share the pain I had hoarded away in my heart.
To little John Wallace, the first of the gifts we were blessed with, the first of our gifts to send back to God.