A little look back…way back.

Hello friends! I hope you’re all curled up by a fire tonight ( unless you’re one of my NZ friends in the southern hemisphere in which case, go to the beach for me…thanks) and keeping warm because it seems like it is freezing EVERYWHERE. In fact, you actually KNOW it is cold when it gets cold in San Antonio too. If it makes it this far south then…bundle up, things are gonna get good.

So, I have a spare five minutes, if you haven’t already, you should run over and read my letter to Tabitha on her second birthday.

And if you’ve really got a minute I’d like to take a little look back, if you don’t mind, to one of the first posts I wrote after Tabitha was born. To me it is a reminder of the blessings that often come after the storm. And sometimes those storms last so long that we forget that the Lord really DOES bring relief.  I’ve also been thinking about it because I tried out a new doctor this week and I had to tell him my medical history. It sounds SO dramatic when you say it all out loud.  People, it has been two years and it is STILL so dramatic. And gosh darn it, I really should finish that book I’ve been writing for two years.

January 13th 2013
Something happened when Tabitha was about a day old that I think describes my general feeling the last week really really well….
It’s important for me to document tha feeling because we got back to Georgia last night and REAL LIFE is about to set in in a major way ( like the fact that I’m writing this in the ER because I may have been bitten by a bat last night… That’s right. A bat. Welcome home!! Let the games begin!) and I really want to hold on to the marvel of the end of our journey of having our twins.
As sad as I am about Priscilla, and as much as the grief for her is still a process. The celebration of Tabitha’s life is nothing short of pure joy.
When I was still in the hospital, and our many visitors had all dispersed for a few minutes- and even Brett had stepped out to run an errand. I sat holding a post-feed baby. She had nestled into my arm and I was just sitting there thanking God for her Life, when the nurses aid came in to take my blood pressure. As she did her thing she said, “It feels good in here.” And I said something about how the air conditioner was on… But she replied that no, it wasnt that. She looked down at us and said, “it feels peaceful.”

She was so right. After nights when I literally used up tissue boxes, after being separated as a family for four months, after a month hospital stay and 3 months in the Ronald McDonald house… We are peaceful.
And I’ve been feeling that peace for days. ( minus our 24 hours in the NICU.. But that’s another story). I have been delighting in our little answer to prayer. And how, despite her size. It’s really not that little at all.
I am now struggling with the constant need of telling EVERYONE our story, so that EVERYONE will know what God has done for us.
This is a good problem to have.

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