Small packages

Time seems to be slipping by so quickly. I can't always see that over the course of a day or a week, but when I look back on the years, I am astounded.

3 years ago today, I gave Will one of the most wonderful presents I could ever imagine. I left the tiny package on the stairs and waited for him to find it when he got home from work. It was a little thing, wrapped in a big bow with a note to open as an early Valentine's present, or a very early birthday present. Inside was the onsie we had bought to put in the hope chest with a note regarding a potential due date near Will's 30th Birthday.

I remember crying together. I remember the look on his face, the way my heart raced as he opened it. I remember being completely swallowed up in joy. It is all so clear, even still. I remember so many details of that night. I remember thinking even then that it was one of the greatest days of my life. I hope that I will always feel that way. I never want to forget how marvelous it was to share that news with the man that I loved. Together, we had created a little tiny life that was already in full possession of my body and captured every waking thought. It was truly surreal. In that moment, all I had was hope and a dreamy outlook on the future, all tied up in pink and blue bows. In that moment, life was perfect, life was full of promise and I had no idea of how much would lie ahead of us; grossly ruptured membranes, prematurity, NICU, heart surgery, heartbreak, loss, separation.

Some time in the future, I want Charlie to grasp how incredibly happy we were that day, both of us. I want her to hear about how much we had hoped for her to join us and make us a family. I don't ever want her to doubt the love that we shared for each other and for her at the time. This tiny package was, and still is, truly one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.

I can't believe it has been 3 years. I can't believe how much has changed. I wish I knew where it all began to unravel to so I could go back and fix it. I wish that we were giving this precious little girl everything that she needs and deserves, everything we had hoped for her. Instead, we are giving her brokenness, right out of the shoot. It makes me so sad to see how different things are now.

I find myself closing my eyes and trying to relive that moment. I want to remember it, all of it. I want to experience the waves of joy and embrace the uncertainty of it. I wish I could go back and whisper to myself to drink it in, to take in every moment because it might all end way too fast. I want to remember what it was like to have bliss be a part of my daily existence.

Memories like this hold so much happiness, but that happiness quickly turns to depression upon the realization of what has changed, how much I have lost, what once was and seems so impossible to attain again.

But I cling to the reality of that moment. We were happy. We were excited. We were scared out of our minds but we knew that we could do it. We knew that we could be great parents. We were thankful. We were hopeful. We were blissfully unaware of what life had in store for us. Life was truly beautiful.

This little life I discovered 3 years ago held my hope and embodied my dreams. I want that hope back. I want to live with the conviction that there is still good out there and it is labeled with my name on it, with Charlie's name too. I need to recognize that God's gift of hope, the miracle that he has given in the form of my amazing little girl lives on. In the face of betrayal, hurt, anguish, that tiny package still reminds me of his ability to heal, his promise of hope, his unwavering parental love for me. I just have to choose to see it, to accept it and then live in it.