Around this time of year, I always think about my babies. If I’d gone full term, Noah would have been born about a week ago. I should have a newborn, week old baby right now. If Elijah had made it full term, he would have just turned 3 years old in October. Sarah would be about 10 months old.
If my children had lived, I’d have four kids in diapers right now– four children under the age of 4 years old. I’d be potty training for 2. I’d be bottle feeding the 2 others. We’d be a big, happy, noisy, attention drawing family. It hurts to think about them sometimes.
Instead, we are a small, happy, noisy, not-so-attention-drawing family. A good family. A strong family. I love my husband and my daughter immesurably– they are the perfect, perfect family.
But all the same, I miss my babies. I wish they were here with me now, even though I know they are safe and well cared for with Jesus in heaven. There are three stockings hanging by my fireplace instead of six. I just wanted to tell someone that it’s December, and I’m thinking of my babies today.