The Delicate Dance

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Written by: Kristin

I have daughters.

6 that I am certain of in fact.

There are 4 running around my house. Helping with chores or the  babysitting, one is cooking, another is coloring. I even have one jumping on a trampoline, as though trying out for the circus.

I have a daughter with heavy chipmunk cheeks, wavy brown hair, and that signature stork bite at the nape if her neck all my children posses. She used to hiccup every night at 10 pm! How funny!
She lives with Jesus.
I try to imagine the splendor of her days.

Then there is my 6th daughter I’m certain of. She is tiny,under 3 pounds right now, but so strong. I feel her responses to my pleas, ” hunny, kick for mommy, let me know you are well. ” Soon enough, I’m hoping to hear her cry – to be given the gift of comforting her.

All of of my children, are subsequent children. Both sons and daughters.

Loss has always been an aspect of my children’s existence. But now, just now as it has been so deep, ongoing, recurrent has the blanket truly unfolded on us. The precious fragility of life is too well known.

Over the years, I’ve questioned my responsibility to my daughters in my response to loss. I’ve been aware of the impact on their present and future lives. I’ve tried to model trust in God, His goodness and love is not dependent on circumstances.
I’ve wondered why they too must endure so much, wishing I didn’t need to see them being refined with me.

I am trying to come to a place of peace. I don’t know or understand the mind of God or His plans. That is ok.

It is a beautiful, delicate dance to mother these daughters through the days we are given.

I will lay on bed rest while my oldest daughter mothers me. She will feed me, give me injections, and brush my hair as she listens to my heart. I will see the effect of deep tragedy behind her eyes and trust my God mending her broken places with pure gold.

I will assure my middle teen that she is allowed to live. To move forward and experience life. That panic grips her and comes out as rage, she is safe to unload it on me.

My crazy 9 year old cannot bare the pain or truth that death is part of life. Distraction and denial has been her safety net. I catch the glimmer of fear in her face from time to time not wanting to know what sometimes happens. I strive to reassure her that she is safe and life doesn’t always end in loss.

The 5 year old misses the sister she longed to stroke and mother herself. She fiercely protects her memory, wants visions of what she might do in heaven, and says the things we all think.,, ” I wish we could do it over,, I wish we could see her again,, I hope this baby doesn’t die when it is born. ”
She guards her heart, and needs long periods of time in silence, cuddled close to my side.

Why have we lived this together?What will their life bring?
Will their hearts break twice, once for their own loss and again watching their children suffer the effects?

It isn’t for me to know. For now I gratefully accept they are here. They are with be now. They are the answer if when God said,”Yes”.

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