A Beautiful Mess

April 17, 2008 - Thursday

So tomorrow my nephew Colton will be 6. WOW! It really seems like a lifetime ago that he was born - an entire lifetime. Trey and I were talking about it tonight, and I went back to a place I haven't been in a really long time.

The situation surrounding Colton's entry into our lives was complicated. My sister was dating Colton's biological dad, and he was quite a surprise. This is one reason this was such a lifetime ago. My sister is still my baby sister who does things baby sisters do, but she's a grown up now. I'm not so sure she was then.

Now she has a wonderful husband and two great kids and she's one of the most giving, positive people I know. She helps people in ways I'm not capable of - those personal "everything's going to be alright" ways, when my idea of helping is usually "get it together and stop whining." She impresses me.

6 years and 9 months ago I miscarried. We felt like we tried to get pregnant forever, but in reality it wasn't any longer than most normal people. We were so happy to add to our family - our perfect little life was becoming more perfect. Then the bottom fell out. Our baby didn't make it. I've never felt so low - so far from all things good in the world.

On a Thursday or Friday - I don't remember which - I had a DNC - the procedure that finalizes the loss of the pregnancy. I probably should have been resting that weekend, but I've never been good at resting, so Trey and I bought paint.

And we painted our living room. We painted in silence. We painted through tears. We painted through encouraging words to one another. We painted. Something about the act of removing what was on those walls to make them so clean and fresh was cathartic.

As I stood on the ladder next to the back door, roller in hand, painting away, the phone rang. It
was my sister. She was pregnant and calling me for help, advice, sympathy, scolding - I don't know what. As we talked throughout the night, neither she nor I mentioned my baby. I tried to be the big person. I told her over and again that children are a gift and that everything would be okay. I became her.

Then I was angry - at her, at everyone who ever lived. "Really?" I thought. Something is so very wrong here. SO VERY WRONG. In the back of my mind I knew that God was in control, but I was too broken to care.

Fast forward a lifetime. My beautiul boys (now that they're sleeping - they've been wild tonight) would not be here if we hadn't lived through what we did. My nephew is a wild and crazy and fun little boy. He's on this planet for a reason. All of the pain and fear and brokenness are worth it a thousand times over.

Tonight, I cried for the baby we lost. It was strange because I haven't done it in years. But it reminded me that when things are at their darkest, God is still in control. Life is messy - boy is it ever messy!

But in the big scheme of things it's a beautiful mess.