Remaining Hopeful

Johnny would have been 8 months old yesterday.

We will soon pass by a day when the time since he died will be longer than the 4 months of life he had when he was with us. It will be more time without him then the time we had with him.

We see babies all the time that are 7-8 months old and we can't help but wonder what Johnny would be doing now. What sounds would he be making? Would he be trying to say a few words? Would he smile regularly for us now? Would he be crawling yet? Crawling...that's incredible to think about. Johnny....crawling across the floor. Lea said something yesterday that is so true. We were spending some time together looking at some of his photos. She said, "He's stuck at 4 months old." And she's right, at least in our photos. One of the greatest things about being a parent is watching your kids learn and grow and discover and do new things. We experienced that with Juliana and it really was special, with each milestone she accomplished. I can remember cheering wildly when she crawled across the floor for the first time. She just happened to do it for the first time on my birthday. With babies and toddlers it's particularly amazing because the changes happen rapidly and frequently. With Johnny, we are left to our imagination.

Yesterday, I visited the cemetery where Johnny is buried. I actually ran there, which I do most of the time when I visit him. The cemetery is along one of my most common running routes. I cross the road when the landmarks tell me it's the right place, I duck through a small gap in the lilac bushes, then a little run up a slight hill, and I'm right there. I ran there yesterday during a raging winter storm. It was snowing hard, blowing and cold. After I got there I brushed the snow away from the ground to get down to the grass. Lea had previously brought a wreath to place there that is on display on a stand, standing as a monument of the location as the ground gets buried in snow. I lingered there for awhile, in the cold, thinking about Johnny, and what he might be like at 8 months. The snow swirled around me, the wind blew against my face. But I was alone with my thoughts and barely noticed. It felt good to be there.

Today, December 21st, marks the one year anniversary of the ultrasound appointment when the doctors told us there was no hope, and that Johnny wouldn't live beyond 2-4 more weeks in the womb. I remember that day so well, and all the emotions that descended upon us. Even before that December 21st ultrasound appointment, the news was not so good for Johnny. My journal from a year ago on December 20th includes the following:

Today a woman from the hospital called to talk to us about scheduling an appointment to consider and plan a memorial service. It’s difficult to continue to seek a miracle when those trying to assist are asking you to plan for the worst outcome. At the same time, I have come to understand they are trying to prepare us for something so we are ready and will not regret being unprepared when the brief time has come and gone.

Even before the doctors told us there was no hope, and that Johnny wouldn't make it, others were already telling us to prepare for the worst.

But Johnny did make it. Miracles happened, not quite all the miracles we wanted but wonderful things happened for Johnny, God spared him from what the doctors said would be certain death and he went full term, born April 20th. And he was with us about 4 months. We are forever changed and full of thankfulness for the time we had with him.

At the cemetery, some sudden chills brought me back to the present. My running clothes were a little wet from the distance I had already run and the inactivity of standing in the cold and blowing wind in wet clothes was starting to chill me. I turned and started to walk away and then started to run. Like almost everytime I am there and then I leave, I had the same feeling of something incomplete. I think it will always be that way. Something is incomplete. Johnny isn't with us.

I turned back and walked to where I had stood just moments before. I knelt down on the frozen ground and placed my hand on the grassy place I had brushed off that was already almost lost in white from the heavy snow. My dark gloved hand was in stark contrast to the white ground. I told Johnny I loved him, that we missed him so much, and that we would never forget him.

A year ago we tried to remain hopeful for Johnny, despite all the indications that things looked grim. Many joined us in praying for a miracle and God granted that miracle. There was hope, and that hope turned to life. God was good to us, and was faithful to give us a son. Today the hope is that we will not forget Johnny and all the lessons we have learned and the blessings we have received. I want my life to forever be different because we loved and knew Johnny. We were truly blessed to care for Johnny for four months. God remains faithful to us. It's almost Christmas. There is hope.