This Crazy Beautiful Life

Last night I cried. Alot. It was ugly, beautiful, full of despair, redemptive, dirty, and cleansing. And it was exactly what I needed. I find that when Tommy works night shifts are the times when I feel the most vulnerable. I sat alone in my room, computer in front of me, ready to type out something to clear my head. But my heart told me otherwise and I ended up looking at the blogs of many new friends. Alot of them I have never seen in person nor will I ever lay my eyes upon their faces, but we are bonded by the fact that we all have babies diagnosed with Trisomy 13, and from each I have read I can also tell that we are all sisters in Christ. So I allowed myself to sit and read their blogs, and to gain inspiration and healing from their words. And alot of the time what they had to say wasn't pretty. Feelings were gritty, raw, and uninhibited, and yet they comforted my heart. Not one of their children lived for more than an hour on this earth. 60 brief minutes, and yet an eternity. A lifetime. I was reminded by a friend that God promises each of us a lifetime. But a lifetime is not a guarantee of 100 years, or 50, or even 5. A lifetime is the gift of time each of us are given to survive and thrive in this world. We are given no more and no less, and it is up to each of us to make the most of the gift we are given. And no, it is often not fair. Why do murderers, rapists, and child molesters remain free and on our streets while innocents die cruel and horrible deaths? I wish I had all of the answers, but I can definitely say that I am glad that I am not the one in charge. I thank God that He is God and I am not.

I am not strong. I feel so weak inside sometimes that it is like my bones are made of jello. Some days I just want to stay curled up in my bed and not get out. And I question. Why? What is the purpose? What am I supposed to do? How, Lord, am I supposed to handle this situation? And alot of the time the answer is "Lindsey...be still". I am definitely not opposed to crying in front of others. I have never had an issue of showing my vulnerabilities, and I don't consider crying a sign of weakness. But I also don't want to walk around with my head held down. I still carry within me a great joy, and I want others to see that I am not going to live in despair regardless of my circumstances. For one, Lincoln is alive and well. His life is something worth celebrating! Am I not acting as all mothers would who are faced with a similar situation? I wouldn't know what else to even consider. I can't imagine the other alternatives that some choose to take when they find out that their babies aren't "perfect". I am so thankful that my doctors never even asked me if I wanted to terminate. Why don't they just cut off my right arm, because Lincoln is just as much a vital part of me. And have I mentioned before that he is perfect? :)

So I am reading these blogs, and although they are so encouraging, they are a little disconcerting at the same time. Let's be clear - I am still praying for my miracle. I still pray that the test was wrong, that the symptoms aren't that severe, that God will reach His hand into my womb and heal my sweet baby. How could I not? The foundations of our faith are based on just that...faith. And I know that God has the power to heal, so I beseech His grace and mercy everyday. However, I also know that He has a plan. Maybe healing for Lincoln won't come in this world. I know that he is going to be healed one way or another, either in this life or in Heaven. But I am selfishly praying that it is in this life. And I have to believe in that. I cling to that. But I also look at these other women and wonder why their children weren't healed. I know that they prayed the same things. And so many of them are so much more faithful than me, Lord, so why not them? What a testimony they would have! But then I am reminded that they do have a testimony, and a ministry, and my sobbing, blubbering, snotty-faced reading of their blogs proves it. And yet I still pray for my miracle. But at the same time, I am also fully human, and by nature I am a realist. And as much as I hope, I try to prepare myself for the possibility that God's plans for Lincoln may not mirror what my hopes are. His plans far exceed my own comprehension. So if the unspeakable happens, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to say goodbye to my beloved child? A child that was prayed for, loved, and a perfect miracle to me and his daddy? How do you do that? The simple answer is that I just don't know. I can't comprehend the enormity of it all, and this is where my tears start flowing freely. I don't know. I don't know. But I do know that we will be ok. I do know that we will look at Lincoln's life, however long it may be, as a blessing. I do know that he will always reside in my heart. I may never ever feel whole again, but I will go on because I still want to share the love of Christ with Rocco and with others. Especially children. People keep telling me that I have the right to be mad at God. Maybe I do...but I'm not. I never have been. I think that must be hard for nonbelievers to understand, but I know there is a plan. And I trust. And I am learning to just be still. Besides, being mad wouldn't change the outcome for Lincoln. It would only change my outcome and make me a bitter, hardened person. And I don't know alot of things God has in store for me, but I KNOW that being that type of person is not one of them. I want to love others, and bless others. And fulfill my ultimate purpose. And I want Lincoln to be proud of me.

So I let myself be still...and I wept. I sat in the room that belonged to me during my childhood, where my dreams all seemed so big and so attainable, like nothing could ever be wrong in my life, and I felt safe. And because I needed it, I quietly crept down the hall to where Rocco was sleeping so peacefully in his crib, and I just picked him up and sat down in our recliner together. And I just held his little sleeping body, all curled up around me and snuggled tight. And I glanced on his angelic face and knew that at that moment, everything was right in the world. And I thanked God for the blessings of all of my children, not just the ones that I know by name, but also the ones that I will always carry in my heart who are part of this journey. You see, without my first two losses, I wouldn't have my sweet Rocco. God had a plan. I didn't see it at the time, but you know what they say about hindsight. And let me tell you about my sweet Rocco. The other day we had to see his pediatrician. I had spoken with him previously about my pregnancy complications, and wanted to tell him about my diagnosis. He came into the room and we started to discuss everything, and I got emotional. He reached for a box of Kleenex, and when he went to hand it to me, Rocco (who was sitting in my lap) reached out his little hand and grabbed a tissue and handed it to his mommy. I thought my heart was going to burst open. He has such a gentle spirit and a kind soul beneath his all-boy, tough-guy, wrestlemania veneer. And I thanked God for such a precious boy, and that I was the one that He picked to be Rocco's mommy, and that He trusted me enough with the care of this precious child. And I know that Rocco will be a wonderful big brother. I can see him putting on his armor and going to war for his little brother, playing the part of the hero to the person in need. And he is already doing that, especially for me. And I think it makes Lincoln smile.

I am thankful that God provided us a buyer for our home. He knew that on the nights that Tommy was working that I would need the comfort of my parents. Even though they were downstairs sleeping, it was comforting to know that they were there. And I am sure that most people would say that we are crazy to continue on with the construction of our new home. But I ask why not? Not starting it would signify our lack of hope and faith. I pray that Lincoln will come home from the hospital and into a brand new room all his own. And I am thankful for the distraction of construction during this time. It is good to keep busy and keep my mind occupied.

And so here I have sat for an hour, writing about everything and nothing. And it is time to get into bed, and I will say my prayers. And I will thank God for another beautiful day, a husband who knows how to balance me out and is my silent rock, wonderful family and friends, my precious Rocco, and for Lincoln's little baby kicks into my stomach...and I am reminded of the gift of a lifetime, and I will continue to stand by Lincoln and fight for his.

May God bless you and keep you, and I pray that you, too, can learn to just be still...