Monday, October 10, 2011
Baseball and Miracles
I can't tell you who is in the MLB Championship Series' right now. There's a battle between four teams for the coveting pennet that is being playing out. Each team is desperately trying to beat their opponents and hang on the thin thread of hope that a World Series trophy is within their reach. I love October for the changing season and the epic postseason of Major League Baseball. But I admit right now, that I had to search to find out which teams were currently duking it out in round 2 of postseason action. My unborn daughter has stolen the spotlight of my heart, and nothing else comes close.
Ruby Jean has been surprising us. Her normally spunky, rambunctious and hyper-active nature all but disappeared last Tuesday. She just went silent, leading us to believe the very real reality that the journey of our Ruby was drawing to a close. Cristin and I would find ourselves lying in bed, waiting... like waiting for an earthquake, or holding our breath for thunder. In our preparation, she surprised us with little movements in the womb. It has been almost like she's just tapping on the door to let us know she's still here. Ultrasound after ultrasound have shown that her heart is still slowly going, though weaker, and her Ruby Jean nature is still there, though slower. She's fading. We'll go a day with no movement, assuming the worst, only to have her surprise us in the middle of the night, letting us know she's still here.
All of this led Cristin and I to understand that the time had come to level with the boys. Cristin had a great plan to tell the boys everything (age appropriately), and then to have them do a series of projects for their baby sister, like writing her a letter and drawing her special pictures, telling her about the world and the family that she belongs to. What came out of them was truly special and worth sharing. You can see and read them in this post.
I was touched. Cristin was given a necklace recently... a simple pendant on a gold chain that very plainly read "Ruby Jean". She has worn it around her neck faithfully since it was first given. I don't think she's taken it off. But what I realized last night is that in a very real way, we've all been wearing her around our necks. Everywhere we go there's an air and a feeling of heaviness. Peace is certainly abundant in our hearts and in our home, but there is a very real heaviness in our days. And the boys feel it too.
It's frightening territory, kind of like walking a tightrope. Neither Cristin or myself want to constantly bring her up to the boys or manufacture some emotion in them. But we also feel the need to remind the boys that it's good to talk about her, and to talk about their feelings, and that it's okay to be sad. I think that we have found a good balance, and I'm grateful to walk through this time with such a Godly, lovely and keenly aware woman.
Despite our emotional exhaustion, our spiritual rollercoaster, and our physical marathon, Ruby Jean delights us with every kick, jab and butterfly, no matter how faint it may become. It just lets us know that she is still with us... even if only for a season.
There's a lot of baseball fans praying for a miracle right now. But I don't care. I'm still praying for mine.