A Story of Grace

If I could figure out how to blog while nursing a baby, I would have been caught up well before now:)

Yes, he is here.  Our little nugget of handsomeness took his first breath at 2:48pm on Thursday, December 13th. 

Here is how it went....

Pregnancy was hard this time.  It came with a slew of health problems for me, a monstrous load of fear, and 8 long weeks on bedrest.  I was determined to soak up as many moments as I could, relishing in the fact that God was creating new life through me, and cherishing each new change that brought this little one closer to resting in our arms.  I took a boatload of "belly" pictures.  I completely missed out on that last time because Ellianna arrived so early, so I was determined to have proof of being pregnant this time. 

I was elated that my doctors had agreed I could have a natural delivery this time, instead of a c-section like the previous two.  I was scheduled for induction of labor one day after I was 34 weeks along because of the risk of infection due to my water having already broken.  Craziest feeling waking up that morning knowing I would meet my son that day. Funny thing is, when you think you know how it's gonna go...

My 7 year old daughter, Baylie, had asked early in the pregnancy if she could be there for the birth.  Although it was something we were open to, we told her it wouldn't be possible because I needed her daddy all to myself and there would be no one to watch out for her. However, through an amazing orchestry of timing, my sister was able to be in town, which meant Baylie was able to be present for the birth, with my sister as her guardian for the day.  

Medications were started early in the morning to start labor, and time ground by at a grueling pace.  Things were moving very slowly, and myself, as well as my doctor and nurses and NICU team all assumed there would be plenty of time to get into position.  Well, our little guy must have heard how we had things planned out, because he decided to burst onto the scene when everyone was least expecting it.  He is apparently amused by the element of surprise.  A disbelieving nurse wound up wearing the catcher's mitt because no one else got there in time, and once I heard his cries, I was looking frantically to see if Baylie had missed the whole thing in all the chaos!  Fortunately, she was standing close by, soaking in every miraculous moment of her baby brother's big debut.

Watching Baylie was incredible.  As she saw this strong, mighty miracle of a life blooming before her eyes, you could see some healing take place in her little heart.  She got to witness the other side of the story.  The side where there is health, and strength, and hope.  The heartbreak and questions and pain she has been wrestling since losing her little sister were able to stand aside for a moment for a beam of joyful expectation. And that was priceless.  

In honor of his big sister in Heaven, Ellianna Grace, we named this little guy Colby Grayson, to always remind him, and us of the grace that has touched our lives.  He will always know her story, and he will always be a symbol of the healing that we are promised.  

COLBY GRAYSON MITCHELL

12-13-12

4 lbs 15 oz

18 inches long

Perfect.

What an amazing gift he is.  We are in love.  Blessed, thankful, and hopeful.  Our God is faithful.

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Where is that open window?

Weeks have ticked by with people wondering, questions whispering, assumptions and conclusions drawn and redrawn about why the sweet, dark, smiling face has disappeared from the candid snapshots of our life.  It has taken time to even know what to say.  It has taken sifting and processing to try to grasp what should be said when it seems there are too many souls eager to gobble up the information to be regurgitated as neighborhood gossip.

The truth is, there are things I want to say, fingers I want to point, and agony I would like to unload... but none of that will change what has happened, and none of that will right what has gone wrong in this world.

All that I really need to say is that she is gone.  The bright eyes and hopeful smile of the daughter we thought was to be our own have dissolved through an unsettling mist of heartache and confusion. 

Every time I come across things of Akemi's that remain-- a picture she drew for me, a letter she wrote, another stretched out sock without a match, I find a flurry of unanswered questions seeping from where I have tried to cover my scars.   I would sure like to know God's purpose in all of this.  Of letting Akemi open herself up to us, and ourselves to her, just to allow it to end in yet another heartbreak for a little girl who has already been through too much.  What part does this have in the big scheme of what we are doing and who we are becoming?  Actually, I would like to pound on the doors of Heaven and scream and yell until these answers are explained to me, because I don't like being patient, especially when it hurts.

My girls have written her letters. Excitedly telling about plans they have made, reminders of secrets they have shared, and news of the baby brother she was so excited to meet.  Letters I have tucked away from sight because I don't know how to explain to them that they won't get to her.  I don't know how to explain anything, because the continued twists and turns have been so breathtaking, so discouraging, and so utterly confusing, sometimes I can only throw up my hands. 

 

She was loved.  She was cherished.  She is missed.

 

 

 

 

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