March.

Well it is here and the truth is, selfishly, I was kind of pulling for "too busy to notice".  But last night as I was reading an email from my midwife and scrolling up to look for a phone number, I was quickly reminded that March is here and it marks the memory of the longest, hardest days of my life. 

It is funny to me how God times things.  Here we are moving out of this "house of memories" on the weekend that marks the two year anniversary of the the birth of our boy. The birth and the loss.  I have tried desperately to be busy enough to let it pass by, barely noticed, in an effort to keep my heart from exploding as I recognize that I am moving two out of three of my babies into this new home.  And even though Bennett never "lived" in this home, he was here and he has not been and will never be at 116 Golden Meadow Lane.  But I failed and yesterday, as I stood in the laundry room of this house that has haunted me for so long, I hung up clothes and I cried.  In walked my sweet husband to hold me until I could breathe again, never asking, just knowing. 

So as usual He brings us to a bitter sweet moment as we celebrate a change in our lives.  A new home, a new start, but an oh so familiar absence that will be moved from Tom Anderson Road to Golden Meadow Lane no matter how far back in a closet we have hidden it.  As I pack today I pray for comfort, I pray for a gentle reminder that I am the mother of a little boy with whom I will spend eternity and an even gentler reminder that eternity will start later, not today.  As I carry out heavy boxes I cringe knowing that they are even heavier than they should be because of the weight that sits on my chest as the birthday of our son approaches.  Breathing in and out seems labor intensive and truthfully, the bed sounds pretty good.  Thankfully I am surrounded by boxes and four blue eyes all of which require me to stay vertical and move forward. The Lord knows just how much we can take and He also knows what we need to be able to take it. 

Breathing in and moving boxes out,
Melanie