Today the calendar says Spring. The lazy snowflakes falling on the couple-feet of snow still on the ground outside say otherwise. My heart remembers five years ago. I didn't know how I would ever be able to look into these gray March skies of Wisconsin and feel joy. Sitting in the sterile doctor's office the sympathetic words falling on my numb ears, "I'm sorry; there was no heartbeat. Your baby is dead" sent my world crumbling. The pain, the sorrow, the heartache, the loneliness, the miles between me and my deployed husband.... It was too much. How do you ever recover from the devastation of the loss of something so precious? How do you ever hope again? How do you heal from such a brutal blow?
You don't really. You never forget. You never stop missing that little person you wish could be a part of your happy family. You never stop wondering what that beautiful child would be like, the funny perspective he would have on life and the cute things he might say. You never "get over it".
But you do heal; by the comfort and grace of God. Spring comes eventually and it washes away all the gray and gloom of Winter. My healing took place little by little, piece by piece, and today my house is filled with the love and laughter of these two vivacious miracles. Beneath all the snow of an unending Winter, the sunshine of Spring worked her magic.