It's the little, forgotten things that get me.

The thing about a Great and Terrible Loss is, you don't always realize what's going to be thing little thing that sets you off.

Today, the little thing was choosing Mother's Day cards for our moms.

I stood there staring at the cards, and there were at least ten different "First Mother's Day" labeled cards.

Ouch.

Within a few minutes, Ryan and I both just stared at them and tried not to cry.  When we left the store, all I could think about was how different this Mother's Day is going to be.  I had anticipated spending the day with our son, holding and just enjoying him.  Instead, all I can think about is how this is going to be another holiday I spend at his gravesite, thinking about the way things were supposed to have been, and comparing it to what it is instead.  Once again, my own form of my reality from hell smacked me in the face with its painful reminder that although I am a mother, I am separated for who knows how long from my baby.

On that note though, I do have to say that I'm so thankful for my faith.  Without my faith, I would have no hope.  Even with that hope though, there is still pain.  I still miss my baby.  Knowing Emmett is in the presence of the Lord eases my burden only slightly.  Selfishly, I would rather he still be here. I long to know what these past two months should have looked like.  I wonder what kind of baby he would have been, what raising him would have looked like.  I wonder how the beginning of the journey of parenthood would have shaped us.  Instead, we know a side of parenthood that no one should have to know.  We know the deep pain of losing the most precious gift we were ever given.

Pastor Mike shared part of these verses at the last couple of services we've attended, and I wasn't able to get it out of my head, so I decided to read Lamentations 3 for myself, and this is what I found:

19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
20 I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.” 

As badly as this process hurts, I have to continually choose to trust in the Lord, and know that He alone is my portion.  Without Him, I am hopeless.  Without Christ, I would never see Emmett again.  Although I am weak, although I miss my son more than I could ever say, I am hopeful and rejoice in knowing that we will see him again.  (And oh my gosh…what an amazing day that will be! I don't know that I'll ever be able to put him down once I'm reunited with him. :)