Some thoughts on being different

My favorite place these days is relaxing on the couch in our front room, surrounded by the soft glow of our Christmas tree. There is a warmth and a calm that comes with it. And since I know our time to enjoy it is temporary, I'm trying to soak it up as much as possible.

I took a quick Sunday afternoon nap in front of it today. Before shutting my eyes, they wandered around the tree to the different ornaments we bought or received last year in memory of our girls. Every ornament has an identical match - there are a couple of sets of crystal angels, a few different sets of birds, the crystal-like "Joy" ornaments, and two silver stars engraved with "Love". I love our tree and I love the love I feel for my little girls when I look at it. And I love dear loved ones who have added their love for our girls to our tree. (That's sure a lot of love!)

It's been interesting to share our news about adopting and being pregnant. As is maybe obvious, we are completely overwhelmed by the news ourselves. We recognize how much we're being blessed beyond belief. Even still among the welcomed joy of these approaching blessings, there is still a place in my heart that aches. As I've interacted with older women who have lost babies decades ago, and I witness how easily the tears flow when they've opened up their hearts to me about their loss, I get the feeling while watching them that the aching will always be there. Of course, until we meet our girls again. Then, maybe then, the holes will be completely healed and my joy will really be full.

I worry a little about some who might expect some dramatic retroactive change in my personality, now that we have these blessings to anticipate. It's true that I haven't been quite the same since losing my girls. Honestly, though, I don't expect to ever be the same person that I was before such a life-changing experience. Those moments in the hospital altered the core of who I am, who I want to be. And, really, isn't that a good thing? So maybe I'm not as happy-go-lucky or however you want to call it... but really I haven't been that way since maybe 8th grade basketball games when I was burning off the Mountain Dew caffeine high. And, that can probably be more classified as immaturity or the results of stimulating substances than anything else.

The truth is that, even while we feel deep joy and gratitude for the blessings that are approaching, there is still a plot at the cemetery that we visit. There are two stockings hanging next to ours that will never be held by the shaky, excited hands of our little girls on Christmas morning. With time we've learned to be okay with this part of our life. We accept the place our girls have in our family, and rejoice that they are eternally a part of us. And while most of those closest to us have accepted us as we are now, I hope that more will accept the ways we've changed because of our girls... rather than expecting us to be back to how we "used to be."  

We're different. And, we're okay with that.