In one regard, I relish the celebration of Christ's resurrection and the church services dedicated to this momentous occasion. I love the family pow-wows and food and Easter decor and new Easter outfits for the family and Spring colors and candy and lemon meringue pie and etc.
But three years ago, we lost our sweet baby Francesca Rose on Easter. I guess I don't know FOR SURE when we actually lost her. I just remember being SO uncomfortable that entire day. Couldn't enjoy the celebrations. Just wanted to go home. Come Monday, I was fine. Come that Friday... I had a stillbirth. Autopsy results say she was gone for about a week. So in my head, Easter means, well, for lack of a better word, death.
Here we're supposed to be celebrating Christ's resurrection and life.
But I can't get death out of my mind.
Two years ago, when I was pregnant with Graham, I basically relived that entire day. I was a mess emotionally. We went up north to visit the same family and attend the same church service and have a very similar meal with everyone that had been there the year before. Since I conceived Graham 3 months after I birthed Francesca, his pregnancy lined up almost exactly with all the milestones from Francesca's. So when Easter came around, I was just as pregnant with him as I was with her. I can't hardly even remember that holiday. I think I blocked it out. Nothing tragic happened, obviously, since we went on to have a perfectly healthy baby.
But this year, anew, those same sickening emotions were *trying* to wash over me.
Once again, I am just as pregnant with Baby H as I was with both Francesca and Graham.
Once again, I had to face Easter.
I feel that this year was one of healing. A year to conquer some of the mental roadblocks I have been hanging on to. I was able to relax and actually enjoy the holiday. I was able to truly interact and enjoy family, fellowship, and food. I was actually able to focus on Christ and His resurrection. I was able to finally see "life" instead of "death". And this may sound corny, but here's another mental roadblock: I even wore the Easter shirt I wore 3 years ago. I *know* it's just a shirt. But to me, it held memories. I wore it without *fear*.
And Baby H wiggled ALL DAY LONG! It was SUCH a blessing from God. A pouring rain of spiritual and emotional and mental healing that He gave to me. This year, I celebrated LIFE. Life of this precious unborn baby I carry. And the resurrection life of my Lord and Savior.
This is from yesterday.
35 weeks with Baby H.
Happy Easter, everyone!