Its Quiet

Since January 15, 2005, there has been noise. First with the arrival of our oldest and then through the years with her siblings joining the family. Motherhood has been the ONLY job I have ever truly wanted and I never thought about what I would do when I did not have little ones at my feet full time.

Today is the first day all five kids are in school for a portion of the day without my having commitments or appointments to be at. Its also the first day I had to get on the bus to secure a screaming child into a car seat to be driven away to school.

As I walked up the long, lonely driveway I began to remember the beginnings of my journey as a mom and wished I had relished in those moments more celebrating each day. For now, we have a new normal that doesn't feel nearly as good as the normal I had just one year ago.

To say Seraphina's diagnosis was a surprise, would be a lie. Perhaps her beginnings have had the marks of her life impacting others in ways one could never imagine since the moment we found out she was on her way. The evening we discovered she was on her way, it was date night. After spontaneously seeing friends at a favorite dinner spot we drove home and I commented that life was perfect. Our family was complete. That night dinner didn't smell or taste as good and before we decided to pop open a bottle of wine, I decided to take a test. Positive. I was shocked and shaken but excited too. This news came on the heels of the loss of a child in our family. I was instantly convinced this child was given as a gift from Heaven to hold on to hope even when it feels all hope is lost. My pregnancy continued normally and when we chose to name her after the cousin she would never know I was convinced even more that Seraphina was a gift that would teach. Little did I know how much she would teach, and not just others but me.

Each morning I get up early to answer emails, catch up on work (I blog part time) and spend some time in prayer and reflection. This morning as I prayed I realized in the stillness of dawn that part of my heart is still broken. I am currently mourning the child I dreamed of having and watching as her little friends headed to school and out into the world typically. I am learning to accept the child that she was created to be and understand that this diagnosis is not just impacting her life but all of ours as a family.

This morning I called one of my closest friends. She's always got the right words. I didn't get through and perhaps that was a good thing because by the time she called back, the tears had stopped. She reminded me that even IF Serrie was typical, she wouldn't be at school (we don't do 3 year old preschool). She also reminded me of the time I will have for me to develop who I am going to be in this next chapter of my life. In time there will be noise again, it may just sound different than the noise I have had in my home the last 11 years..I am hopeful that this quiet reminds me to cherish each moment..the new moments too!


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