The still of the night

Maybe it's the quiet darkness. Maybe it's too much time reading blogs like this . Maybe it's the conversation I had today about a group of women with Trisomy babies meeting over the Internet and forming a support group.

Maybe it's the result of spending a whole week missing one daughter that has me, tonight, missing the other one.

Whatever the reason, I layed in bed for over an hour letting the silence get the best of me. Once again reliving the moments of my life I would rather have not lived the first time.

First I hear the voices of the doctors.
"That's the smallest cord I've ever seen."
"She has the markers of Trisomy 13......It's a fatal condition."
"We can't tell you how long she will live. Most likely a week. Maybe two."

Then I remember the decisions we were asked to make.
Feeding tubes?
In-home nurse?
Hospice?
Writing her obituary.
Planning her memorial service.
Buying her burial dress.

I remember the pain that consumed her short life.
The rumbles in her empty belly. The gasps for air. The yellowing of her skin from jaundice. The way her face and tiny body tensed when she cried a cry so weak and small. And yet it was deafening to me. Because I couldn't console it. I couldn't make it better.

Then there are remarks from well-meaning people that satan continues to use as a punch straight to my gut.
"At least you didn't have her so long you got attached to her."
"It's a shame they couldn't put her out of her misery."
"Oh....I forgot your baby died. I'm sorry."
"You just have one child, right?"

Two years later and I'm still kept awake by it all. Not as much as in the beginning but more than I care to admit. And while I'm being honest I'll just put it out there. I know there are many more spiritual than I who allow these moments to draw them closer to God and they spend their evenings in prayer. I tend to get angry first.

Angry that the Angelina Jolie's of the world are kissing their healthy babies tonight. Angry that we don't get another chance. Angry that our family wasn't afforded a happy ending and a testimony tailor-made for a TV movie. But God knows all that. And He's not shocked or mad. He knew I'd be feeling that way and just like He always does, He set aside a little something just for me.

I've never shared many details of our experiences with Rebekah. I tell myself it's because I'm private and I don't want to burden people with yet another sad story of our life. But the truth is it's too painful. Too raw. Too much.

But God prompted me to write it down tonight, if for nobody else's benefit but my own. Or maybe there's somebody out there who needs to know that sometimes it's OK to admit everything's not OK. Or that it's totally possible to spend a morning praising Him and an evening questioning Him. So here I am doing the one thing that's usually the last thing I'd ever do. I'm putting my heart out there for all of you to see. Because I want to be real and show you He's real too.

Tonight I've been up watching random videos on YouTube to escape the restless night when I ran across footage of Steven Curtis Chapman at a concert this weekend in Wisconsin. It marked his return to the stage after the tragic death of his daughter Maria and he was sharing very openly and honestly about his own feelings and frustrations when he said these words that rattled me to the core.

"There is an appointed time.....our little girl didn't get robbed of a single day that God had appointed for her. Her days were a lot shorter than we had planned but we weren't robbed and she wasn't either."

Oh, to have that kind of faith. That kind of trust. That kind of strength. But I know, just like everyone who knows our God, that none of that comes from us. It all comes from Jesus. And it's ours for the asking. So tonight I'm going to stay up awhile and ask Him for it yet again. I'm going to let Him quiet the voices and blur the memories. And then I'm going to let Him tuck me in.

"But it is good for me to draw near to God; I have put my trust in the Lord God and made Him my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works." Psalm 73:28