April 20.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
Just breathe.
5 years.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
Breathe.
The diagnosis.
The beginning of the end.
The day we found out that our lives were going to be changed FOREVER.
I've become an expert at living again.
But I've also become an expert at hiding the grief.
Most people have forgotten.
Most people have moved on.
Most people say, "It's been 5 years. It's time to move on."
But it's impossible for me.
Yes, I live.
I breathe.
I laugh and love.
I can pray again.
Thank you, Jesus.
I can worship again.
Thank you, God.
God is, indeed, good.
But there is a part of me that will NEVER forget.
The pain will never go away.
April 20, 2010.
"Your baby has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome…….
blah blah blah…mumble mumble mumble….
100% fatal without intervention…..
mumble mumble mumble….blah blah blah….
open heart surgery immediately after birth…
blah blah blah…mumble mumble mumble…..
unknown life expectancy…."
Everything else from that point forward was just a blur.
I cried, sobbed.
No, wailed for days….
And now, here we are 5 years later.
I don't grieve without hope.
My hope is found in a resurrected Savior.
BUT…
my heart hurts.
My soul longs for a baby that isn't.
The black pit of despair threatens to overtake me.
How can it be that 5 years is upon us?
Just breathe, Jill.
Just keep breathing.
