The time went so fast, and the day went so fast (except for the slow parts).
Today marked six months from that fateful day where we heard no heartbeat because our little Doria died. That makes half a year without hearing her cry, seeing her eyes, changing her diapers, having our sleep messed up, lifting the car seat from the car, and all those things parents expect to be annoyed by.
We went out to dinner for a mournabration, just to talk about what things have been and what they will be. Basically, a celebration with an odd backdrop. A little bit after we sat down, we ran into a couple from our church and their children. We chatted, just generally, and a few minutes later, our waitress brought by a gift card from “a family up front.” That was a really nice touch of grace. We and our stomachs are really grateful.
More than the gift card, though, what mattered most was just that they came up and talked to us. You hear people talk about how bad we tend to be around death and grief. That’s something we talked about in the car on the way to dinner, just how many relationships have changed, ended, or virtually ended over the past six months. I joke about how little my phone rang before, but it may as well be gone. I misplaced it for about three weeks recently and didn’t know the difference. That’s not all bad, because I hate talking on the phone, but it’s really remarkable to see that I don’t need it anymore. Overall, it’s interesting, and pretty sad, that so many people completely drop out of your life after something like Doria’s death. It does leave a person thinking, “where’s the grace?”
As changes go, I’ve seen that one of my favorite ministries is probably coming to an end, at least for me. My struggles in keeping up with some things are likely closing the door to my travelling ministry. That one’s sad, although both of us thought it was on borrowed time in a few ways. I hate thinking that the aftermath of Doria’s death would close the door on something so neat, but it probably has.
There should be some good changes ahead. I expect to appreciate so many of the moments with Baby #2 even more than I would have with Doria. I go back and forth on that, whether I fully like that thought or not, but it is what it is. There’s no taking things for granted after your baby dies. It’s hard to ignore that life is fragile when you’ve held your dead baby girl in your hands. For that reason, then, it’s going to be really easy to appreciate things with #2.
I never really imagined how much things would change six months ago. I doubt that I really comprehend how much they have changed or are about to, but it’s a start.