beauty from ashes

March is my least favorite month of the whole year. It is the month my first baby and my last baby died. I am thankful for the six I carried to term in between, but sometimes my heart aches over the two I never got to hold in my arms. Bill proposed in March. February, the month of "love and couples" runs a close second to my aversion to March. With the way February treated me emotionally I was not looking forward to March bullying me.

Something unexpected happened. March 1st came and went. The 2nd and 3rd. Then the 4th. Rather than the increased dread and unrest I was expecting I found myself with more joy and peace as each day passed. It was such a stark change from the past 19 years that I had a mental conversation with myself about the difference when I recognized it last week.

As I drove to Indiana last Thursday I realized anticipating Abe's birth was an unexpected healing salve. Having a March baby to celebrate was the perfect antidote to the losses my subconscious gravitates toward this month. God was bringing beauty out of ashes. My heart sang praises as the miles passed. When I got a phone call from Andrew that they were on their way to the hospital my praises and prayers increased. 

They began inducing labor before I arrived. We expected Abe to join us late, late Thursday night or early Friday morning. Bre was great and did all she was supposed to be doing, but Thursday night came and went, as did early and late Friday morning, but no Abe.

I found myself "antsie" without reason, so rather than fidget in the room I took a long, long walk outside. As a matter of fact before Friday afternoon was over I took two of them so I would not be a distraction in the room. Andrew and Bre needed calm, not my leg shaking a million miles a minute.

When her doctor came to check her late Friday afternoon, her family and I stepped into the hallway.

Julie, Jenn and me.
Brian, Brendan and Owen were taking a walk.

Soon the doctor walked out, then the nurse. I asked if it was safe to go in and the nurse said "give them a few minutes, they are talking". It wasn't long before Andrew called out for us to come back in.

"We have decided to go ahead with a c-section. Things just aren't progressing. We could wait a couple of hours, but the doctor doesn't think there will be much of a change."

As the words "Okay, that sounds good" were leaving our mouths, nurses began converging on the room prepping her for surgery. We prayed with them and as they left the room I looked up at the clock. 6:03 PM. Friday. And my mind immediately, involuntarily, transported me to another Friday at that time. Tears began. Julie wrapped me in a tight hug and prayed over me. No words of explaination were needed, she knew I was reliving the evening Bill died.

I didn't think anything bad was going to happen to either of them. I was excited-soon we would be meeting Abe face to face. I felt all would be well. But I could not sit in that hospital room, even though they told us that is where we should wait. I could not sit in the hall chairs. Waiting outside wasn't a good option. In an effort to try and regain some balance I grabbed a couple of dollars and told Julie I was going to get a drink from the vending machine. 

I remembered passing a chapel when I had walked the halls the night before to get my 10,000 steps in for FitBit so I took my Cherry Coke and headed there. I texted Julie where I was. And I prayed. I cried. I remembered. I looked forward. All on repeat as the battle for my focus raged: ashes or beauty?







At 6:30 the door opened. Julie stuck her head in the room and spoke some of the sweetest words I have ever heard. "He is here. They are both okay." The sad tears stopped, replaced by happy tears of rejoicing. I stood and we walked back to the room to join Bre's dad, brother, sister-in-law and nephew. 



By 8:30 Breanna, Abe and Andrew were back in the room with us. 
What a wonderful sight. 
A reason to celebrate life in a month that has held significant loss. 
Beauty from ashes. 
God is good at that.