Happy Birthday, Baby...

I have been crying a lot lately. At first, I didn't know why. After all, I have plenty of reasons to cry, but tears don't come like they used to, so this latest cycle of crying caught me a bit off guard. At first I thought nothing very specific had happened to start this emotional roller coaster, even though I certainly have been "dealing with" my fair share. Then I started to put it all together. It's the time of year. Obviously, I know exactly when the twins' birthday is: June 5. That date is solidified in my mind as well as the other most significant days of my life. But June 5 is not the only day that brings my mind back to happier times. It starts around the middle of May when I was, only three years ago, miserably huge and pregnant with the twins. I remember school getting out and seeing those "Congratulations Graduates!" signs at the front of my neighborhood, and I used to picture the future and seeing Bo, Whit and Webb's names on them. I remember preparing for the twins' first birthday party, and then having the party in our back yard and laughing at Webb screaming through "Happy Birthday." At the time of year when summer is about to begin, when the pool is about to open, when it just starts getting really hot---I am instantly taken back to the two years when my life was perfect. When I didn't think children could die. When I certainly never imagined one of mine would die. Now June 5 is a day of mixed emotions. Of course, joy because Whit is another year older, and that is something we certainly don't take for granted anymore. But also intense sadness because his twin should be by his side, talking up a storm, opening presents, eating cake and enjoying life the way he is. It is incomprehensible that he is not here. And as of this past Wednesday, Webb has been gone 17 months. It is almost to the point where he has been gone longer than he was with us. How can that be? The pain is still so present and raw. It still seems so unbelievable. I am still struggling to find answers. I want to know Webb as a three year old. I want to see him playing with his brothers at the pool all summer. I want to know if his personality still would be the way I remember....I want so much. And yet it is out of my hands. He is out of my arms. I cling to my other boys, and they have gotten me through some horrific days. But this missing piece of my soul remains. June 5. So much joy, so much hurt, wrapped up into one little day and two little red headed boys. How can this be the way that it is?

For better....or worse.....

This is not my typical post, but I feel so led to write it, I figure God is up to something. I have written many times about the support system I have felt since Webb died. And it is true, I have an amazing network of friends and family that have helped pick up the pieces of my broken life. But I rarely talk about the biggest human supporter I have, and I seldom explain the immense impact that person has had on me. I think it is because our journey has been so private, intense and special, but the person who I have counted on more than any other during this horrific time is my amazing husband. He is the only person on the planet who understands exactly what it feels like to miss Webb. We have different ways of grieving and expressing our grief, but the identical bond that we have in common needs no explaining- whether we cry together or not, we are each other's lifeline. Without him, I truly would not have been able to face morning after morning without my baby, and I would have no future to look forward to. Most couples our age have not even come close to experiencing the level of trauma we have. Usually the first thing young couples "go through" are financial troubles or the death of a parent. The divorce rate is still over 50%, and I think part of that is because couples do not know how to work through problems and bail when the going gets tough. But if you ever have something truly traumatic happen, you are going to want a partner to help you through it, and ideally that person should be the one you vowed to love for better or worse. I say this now because I have been thinking about it, and I am truly sad at how our generation often faces marriage. You marry the person who is (hopefully) you favorite, and then you throw yourself into married life. At that time, he makes you happier than anyone else. You love being a wife. You cater to his every whim. He thinks you're adorable and hilarious. Then, you decide to start a family. If it works right away, great. If it doesn't, you become consumed with getting pregnant. So much so that your husband is just a bystander in your plans to have children. It becomes a goal, an obsession, it takes the place of the moments you used to share and takes on a life of its own. Then, once you have children, they become your obsession. They take up all your thoughts and every hour of the day. Your husband becomes a nuisance to you. You quit going to dinner alone. You never take a vacation just the two of you. Before long, all you talk about is the kids and you go to bed every night without ever having a meaningful conversation. You blame it on "being busy," but that is just a cop out. Plenty of people throughout time have had more children, more responsibilities and more to do than you, and their marriages didn't suffer for it. The children have become your only identity. Their well-being, sports, activities and mere presence is the only thing you've got going anymore. You think this is normal. It's not. What if, God forbid, something happens to one of your children? Who will you lean on? Or the more likely scenario is that nothing will happen to your children, except they will leave the house one day, and you are now living with a complete stranger. I do not mean to stereotype and say that women are to blame for this phenomenon, but I do think we can be a guilty party in "letting our marriage go." Don't let this happen. Some people are so obsessed with their children, they have made them little gods, dictating their lives, chipping away at their marriages until nothing is left. Try to remember the man you married and the reason you married him. Talk to him about his day, his job, tell him funny stories that have nothing to do with the kids. Go on a vacation with only him. Go to an "adult dinner" at least once a month. And if you can't, wait until the kids go to bed then go outside and have a glass of wine together and talk about your day. Don't wait until something bad happens to decide what defines your marriage. The Bible dictates that your marriage is the most important relationship you have, after God. Guess what comes next? I'll give you a hint, it's not your kids. We love our children more than anything. We want to protect them and we want them to be loved and secure. But shouldn't this start by showing them what a real marriage looks like? God did not intend our children to be our most important relationship - it's why they grow up so fast and leave the nest. And when they do, you don't want to be living with a person you barely know anymore. Take care of your marriage. It will get you through the best of times and it will pick you up in the worst of times. But you have to work at it. I am not sure why I felt so led to write this, but I pray it speaks to someone, and I hope you all take the time to cultivate this precious relationship.