The day this post goes up will be the two year anniversary of my second daughter’s stillbirth.  It’s the first anniversary to hit since my son’s arrival.  And my mind has been in serious contemplation mode.

It’s strange because right now, I’m watching my son grow before my very eyes.  Every day has been different.  He’s learning so much, interacting so much.  I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if my daughters were here.  What these milestones would have been like.  When would they start to babble?  Would they be standing and rolling and sitting as well as Sam is at this age?  How would Sam’s growth have been affected by having his big sisters around?

This week, I re-read the post that I wrote the day I found out that my daughter had passed away.  The post transported me to that hospital triage room, the silent heart monitors and ultrasound machines, to my stubborn cries out to God.  As I got to the end of all of the encouraging comments, my son (who had been sleeping at this point) woke up with a whimper.  And it felt like I was waking up, too, being pulled back into the present moment.

I love my son, and I’m so grateful for every moment I get to spend with him.  I also love my daughters, and I miss them terribly.  But I am thankful to God for how he has shaped my grief and guided my path these last five years.  Even though I look back to remember, more importantly, I am able to look forward in hope.  Praise be to God.  He is so good.