Monday, February 22, 2016
Five years. An eternity of days. And yet it’s passed as quickly as a blowing breeze. Time is a mystery. Days that have often felt endless now seem to have fled like the shadows chasing after a setting sun. It is a strange thing to watch your younger children out grow the oldest. I have always had memories of Makiah to cling to as my little ones passed each new stage. We have stepped across a threshold. It’s like the tape ran out. I am constantly surprised by the things my twins can do- things like writing words other than their name. It’s almost as if my mind forgets that I will actually watch these children grow up. We have been in the same season of parenting for almost 10 years, and the new journey into unknown territory constantly catches me off gaurd.
I am excited. I feel like I am standing on the edge of something really good that has taken a very long time to get to. I am sad. The new things are reminders in a different way of what we didn’t get to see Makiah experience. Of our loss. I am wistful. I want to hang on to every moment and soak up every smile because I know one day I will be old and my house will be empty and I will long for these crazy, exhausting races I call a day. I am thankful. Little Abby and Alena, a combined 10 pounds and 13 oz of pink wriggling, crying cuteness saved my life.
I had to live because they depended on me. Because they were born. Because my aunts and cousins stood on my back porch and prayed before Makiah’s funeral that the contractions I was having would stop. Because my doctor friend came over at night in the weeks following the accident when I was panicking that maybe the lives in my belly had ceased and brought her doppler so I could hear their heart beats and keep on breathing. Because my brother had called me on mother’s day during our battle with secondary infertility and just before Makiah’s death to tell me he felt in prayer that God had said I would be the mother of many children. When I sat in the hospital on bed rest for weeks unable to pray, those words resounded through my being and gave me hope that these babies would live.
On February 22, 2011 hope was born to me in a double portion. And now it walks and laughs all over my house and needs me day and night. Abby loves to make up songs about Jesus and his fire and how he will marry you and put gifts in your heart. And Alena loves to dance to worship songs and to laugh quickly and cheer about things often. At night I can barely escape their room because they need just one more hug and kiss.
And their little arms hug a heart. And their kisses bring healing from heaven. The scars are there, but the bandages have impressions of little lips all over them. My God knows what we need. At just the right time. In just the right way. I am thankful. And spilling over with gratitude tonight for all those who prayed when I couldn’t. I had to live because of you.
Happy 5th Birthday to my Abby and Alena! My fighters, my survivors, my overcoming, victorious ones!