We’ve never actually had
the conversation but I know this is true as a wife to a man who is many things,
not the least of which is brave.
It’s been said before:
bravery is not the absence of fear.
Bravery is being afraid and doing it anyway. (In my line of work, we also call that
impulsiveness…but that’s not as eloquent for the purpose of this blog, so we’re
calling it bravery…got it?!?)
When Adam and I first
found out we were pregnant we were elated.
Adam was basically Superman – beaming optimism from every face hole he
had…virtually indestructible. The
pregnancy went great…zero complications.
I loved being pregnant. I felt
good, too. My blood pressure was great,
my skin was clear, and my hair was voluminous.
We didn’t know anything could go wrong and so we lived happily in the
light of that bliss…until…
It did go wrong.
40 Weeks & 2 Days Later
August 19, 2012…it went
tragically wrong.
Cradling our newborn son
in his arms, Adam gently kissed Parker’s forehead as tears fell onto is brand
new, baby soft skin. For a moment I
think he pretended that Parker was just sleeping, that we would be taking him
home from the hospital and this nightmare had never even happened.
When people ask if Sawyer
is our only son…or how many kids we have…he always replies, “We have three
children; our first son passed away and we have two still here with us.”
My heart breaks for my
husband. That first night in the
hospital after the man from the funeral home came and took Parker, I cried
relentlessly. I was sad. I was tired.
I was drained. But in some ways,
most of all, I was humiliated and sad for Adam.
In the intensity of that moment, I felt as though I had failed and not
given Adam a son. People somewhat
naturally focus on the mother’s grief after a stillbirth but there he was… my
husband, Parker’s dad, trying to be strong while dealing with his own
sorrow.
When devastation and loss
hit, there is no road map. There is no
certain way to be. We walked through the
following days and weeks and months and years as transparently and honestly as
we could.
Until it did go
wrong… And in the few seconds following
Parker’s birth, as he held his lifeless baby and my hand, that Superman feeling
went away. He could be crushed. And if he were, this would be the thing to do
it. He was vulnerable and suddenly had
so much to lose and so much to protect.
Everything was different. No one
– not him nor me – knew just how different it was going to be.
Some people were just born
to be dads. My husband being one of
them. From the calm of his voice to the
warmth of his laugh, he’s got a heart full of kindness. The loss of our first son was, still, and
will always be devastating. The life of
our first son Parker is what made him a dad that first Father’s Day. . .and if
no other child would have come, for Parker alone, he would always be honored as
a father.
And then, 14 months after Parker
was born and buried, a second son arrived.
And a mere 15 months after the second son, a daughter. Bravery
is not the absence of fear. Bravery is
being afraid and doing it anyway.
When I look at the two
children we have the privilege of parenting, I see the Lord’s goodness and
sovereignty… but I also see their dad.
Their being here is a testament to Adam’s capacity to love.
Happy Father's Day!!!
From the Fullness of His Grace,
Lacey
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