It’s been one year since we said good-bye to our fourth son, Tobias.
One year since I labored in the hospital and delivered a tiny little baby who would never get to meet his incredible brothers.
Having never lost anyone really close, I never quite understood why people always remember the anniversary of someone’s death each year. However, what I’ve realized now is that you can’t forget that date. It’s seared into your memory and you see it coming on the calendar each day that it approaches. September 7th. I saw it in my planner last month when I was penciling in dates and knew it was looming on the horizon.
I wasn’t quite sure what emotions this day was going to bring – I’ve never done this before. It’s been such a whirlwind year, that it’s easy to push that part of our life aside and just look to the future. I’d be lying, though, if I said that a single day goes by without a shadow of fear as I worry about our fifth son due in October. Every cramp or pain causes pause. Each day, we pray for a healthy baby and mark the days until he gets here.
We still wonder why we had to go through this, we don’t have any answers about that and probably never will. We know that God has continued to care for us by putting such an circle of support around us and it has definitely opened up conversations with others who have experienced similar loss.
It’s been a year and as I look back and see this picture I posted last September 7th – it still rings true.
