Trever and I spoke at church today. Listen here. It was nice to focus on Abby, to talk about her. To think about the story and how it unfolded in our lives. To think about the wonderful gifts we have received through Abigail.
I wish we could have sat up there and talked for hours. Telling so many more details. Talking about the joys of being pregnant with Abby. Reliving the amazing moments after she was born, and then the hours that we shared with Abby in our arms. Talking about the family and friends who held us up with their energy and eagerness to meet Abby the night she was born. Their commitment to waiting with us at the hospital is so beautiful. They got the chance to meet Abby and celebrate her life. They would have been there to embrace us if the story had been different.
All the visitors, the joy and smiles that filled our room.
The moment when we knew the story was changing. Our neighbor dropped by just before we had the chance to call or families and invite them over to say good bye. She so graciously cried with me and then went home to gather our children so the grand parents could come alone. Before she could get home we had changed plans and had all the kids come to the hospital. I'm so thankful we made that decision. I'm so thankful we have a neighbor who didn't think twice about adding our three kids into her fold for the evening if we needed her to.
I wish we could have just stood there and talked. It's different to stand in front of a group that doesn't know the whole story. To share whatever details come to mind, knowing it's all new information to the listener.
When I listen to the service I realize that we may have focused on the joys, we may not have embraced the pain that goes with this story. But that is how it is for us, we're generally on one side or the other. And we spend so much less time thinking about the pain.
I think I'm actually at a point where there is more sadness than pain. Sometimes I miss the pain, because I feel closer to Abby at those moments. This is the confusing journey of grief.