Joy in the morning

3 years ago at this time I was sitting in a hospital bed trying to force my body to lactate so my milk would come in to nourish my baby who I thought was fighting for his life one floor below me. Jose walked in with a look on his face that is permanently emblazoned on my brain. He didn't have to say anything, I knew. I remember throwing the pump away from me like it was to blame and saying no over and over again in hopes that maybe something would change. Holding onto Jose for dear life while we cried together. At that moment and for many months afterward I thought I would never recover. I remember my great grandmother who had lost 2 husbands and a few of her children saying that losing a child was harder than a spouse because nobody expects to lose a child. We expect our children to outlive us, anything else doesn't make sense.

I miss him. I wish I knew what kind of personality he would have had. Would he have been a clown like his brothers and sister? Would he have been an introvert like me. Would he love pickles like his dad? Would he have had green eyes like me and Tim or brown like everyone else? Would Thomas the train be his obsession at this age or would he have broken the trend and been into cars? What would his voice sound like?

They say that time heals all wounds and I guess in a sense that could be true. The gaping wound does heal. The bleeding stops. The constant pain of missing someone becomes less and less constant. But theres still a scar, a part of me that will never be the same. I will probably always get an ache in my heart when people ask how many children I have. But it is getting ever so much easier.

This year I was able to do something special in memory of Caleb that eased the pain of not having him here to celebrate his life. A few months ago I had a thought that I miss having birthday parties for Caleb. I'm not even that much of a birthday party person in general but when you can't do it you miss it. So I decided to have a birthday party for newborn babies in the hospital. We gathered diapers, baby wipes, clothes, blankets, baby wash etc... for the babies and hand lotion and chocolates for the moms. We wrapped up all the items in a box and delivered them by hand.

As we started to load up the van it began to rain. If you are new to this story let me explain what this meant to me. I have always felt like the rain is little love song from God to me. When we came to Piura I heard it had not rained in years. I was sad to think I would not get to experience the rain anymore. The night that Caleb was born it rained. After Caleb died it rained. And every night for the next month (and a little longer) it rained. It never rains very much but for the past 3 years it has rained a little bit here and there. Usually on days that I really need that extra touch from God to help me carry on. It rained for about 2 hours on the day we delivered gifts to the hospital.

most of the team and the head nurse for maternity/neonatal unit and the nurse in charge of the neonatal unit.

I didn't expect to hold a baby but all the moms insisted we hold their babies. It was a very happy/sad moment for me

all of our team (minus Jose who had to wait downstairs with Zoe) and the head nurse

God worked in so many ways behind the scenes to make this an amazing day. I cried many times but mostly they were happy tears knowing how much God loves me and that he has not forgotten me in my darkest days. Everyone involved was so excited about what we were doing and everyone we encountered was amazed. We decided to make this an annual event to honor Caleb's memory. Next year we hope to at least triple the amount of gift baskets so that every woman in the maternity unit can receive one. (We had no idea how many women would be there and we guessed about 10 and there were at least 35!) 

Psalm 30:5b says "Weeping may last for a night but joy comes in the morning". My weeping lasted much longer than a night. But joy has come in very unexpected ways.