Happy Father's Day, Aaron. You deserve to be celebrated. You have been through so much. Because of that, you now love so much more, and we love you so much more. Having lost a child, we think about all the things we miss about her. But now I think about you...what would we miss about you if the Lord took you from us? We would miss your funny and not-so-funny jokes. Your harps. Your hardy har har outbursts of silly laughter. The kids would have no one to help them walk on the ceiling. Your scruff and fluff (and nothing). Your good taste in wine. Your music that I'm always turning down, but that I honestly do delight in. The way you scribble in all-caps. Your ever-growing t-shirt collection, of which the kids love to pick out which one you should wear. We always save the white chocolate chips for you. We get so busy with life that we don't often realize just how much we love you and appreciate you. I want to soak it all up.
I remember our Father's Day last year. Life was perfect. We had six precious children. We were expecting our 7th. Baby #7 was due the first week of January 2018. Would Baby be born in 2017 (if I went early, like I usually did) or 2018 (our first baby born in an even year since Genesa in 2006!). That was our big dilemma.
We went to the beach after church last year Father's Day. I took a priceless picture of you with all 6 kids around you and the ocean behind. Life was good.
Then after a few days of light bleeding, we discovered on June 23 that Baby #7 had no heartbeat, and that was the beginning of the painful journey that we are now on.
From one Father's Day to another...what a year we have had. It's painful to think about it all. It's not just Mila that we mourn, but the 2 siblings that came and went before her. We have had to bury 3 babies in one year. And we never ever saw this coming. A year ago, I had no idea what awaited me. But God knew. He not only knew it, He ordained it, and here we are a year later, and He has lovingly brought us from point A to point B.
We went back to church today for the first time. It was our first outing, aside from Mila's memorial service, and it was hard. The last time I had been to church, on May 27, I was still pregnant, and there was still a chance that the baby might survive and be healed. There was still a heartbeat; there was still hope. But now she's buried, and it is all over. It's hard to enter back into society without her. It feels wrong. I can feel that she is missing from our lives. I want Mila to be here at church with us. I would have her in my baby carrier, just like I did with the others. She would sleep during the sermon just like all my others. I know how this is supposed to go, but it's not going to happen like that this time.
It was hard to sing in church. It was hard to pay attention. But it was good to be there with our church family again. Our brothers and sisters in the body of Christ continue to love on us & pray for us. We pushed ourselves to make it to church today, and we intentionally enjoyed our day, played a board game with the kids, and made sure we loved on Aaron all weekend.