Jacob’s Day–5th Anniversary


A bittersweet day.  Today, five years ago, our sweet baby Jacob was born.  Yes, that’s his real name.  The world can’t hurt him now, so I’m not bothering with a pseudonym.  The bitter–he was born because he had died within three days of his premature birth, and nine months after Trooper’s dramatic early entry into the world.  The sweet–our son is in Heaven.  I know this.  It would be impossible for most people to understand how much I feel his presence, how he’s interceded for me when I pray.

I will not pretend that the pain of losing a baby ever goes away.  It does not.  I still tear up whenever we visit his tiny grave in a child cemetary.  I still wonder whether anything could have been done to save him, and why exactly my body refuses to carry a child to term without progesterone supplementation (unless it is that simple).  However, there was a silver lining to this cloud.  The doctor who delivered Jacob ended up becoming my current OB, and came to prescribe the progesterone that enabled me to carry Rascal, Dinosaur, Princess, and (so far) Li’l Bean to term.

I hate those memorial gifts that always make it seem like you want the lost person to be back with you.  Of course we miss our baby boy, and wish that we had had more than that one hour we held him after birth.  But to wish him back on earth?  After Heaven?  Not likely.  No, I’ve read my share of grieving poems and heard music, but the best thing I ever heard was written by Eric Genuis after his son Joseph was born at five months gestation.  I can’t find the lyrics now, so I apologize if I butcher them a bit, but I remember it ending something like this:

“It’s good my child to know,

It’s so good Joseph to know

For eternity

My son, you’ll see…

You will see God.”

And knowing that, it’s impossible to stay sad.  We love you, Jacob.

10 thoughts on “Jacob’s Day–5th Anniversary

  1. Thank you, thank you, *thank you*! That was definitely a beautiful and comforting quote.

    A few weeks ago I was thinking of my children, and how the four youngest will be buddies thanks to their ages being so close (Rascal & Dinosaur are inseparable, and Princess and the upcoming baby sister might be as well). I began to feel a little sorry for the Trooper, who of course loves his siblings in his own way, and is bonded with them as best he can be, but still, he doesn’t exactly seem to be best-of-buddies with any of them.

    And then the thought came: He has Jacob. It’s true that they can’t be the “partners in crime” that Rascal and the Dinosaur are, but maybe God just figured that Trooper needed an intercessor in Heaven more.

    Of course, here I get into the quagmire of logistics and recall that if Jacob HAD lived, Rascal wouldn’t have come to be. And then where would Dinosaur be? And Princess? Ack–it’s like trying to answer questions like “how long is forever?” I have to move on. 😉

  2. Yeah, there are some questions that make you feel like the space-time continuum will tear apart. I often wonder what life would be like if our kids were spaced closer together, but I’m feeling more and more at peace with the fact that we have the family we are meant to have, and that’s it. It doesn’t have to be just like the family I grew up in (or like anyone else’s family, either). I’ll just trust that things will work out the way God wants them to.

  3. Oh, don’t you just love the “what ifs?” I know the feeling. What if we had gone to the ER when I started going into early labor with Trooper instead of cowering in fear and uncertainty until my water broke? What if we had taken people’s advice and stopped having kids after Dinosaur? What if I had taken my OWN grieving advice and implemented a lifetime regimen of NFP so that I never got pregnant again after Jacob died? Yes, I laugh at that one now. Totally the grief talking–but I did intend to adopt several children since I seemed incapable of having any normal pregnancies. Even now there are several what ifs…. What if this new baby is our last? (stop laughing ;)) What if Obamacare is passed and there’s hidden restrictions on child spacing or more than x-amount of kids? On the same line, what if that new parent visitation thing isn’t truly voluntary?

    Turning to trust in God is truly the best way to defeat the what ifs. We’ll go crazy otherwise, and if we take a moment to look back, hindsight being 20/20, we’ll see that God had the right idea all along, and will steer us in the right direction if we just believe in Him.

    Or, as Haus Meister and I often quote to each other from the movie “The Count of Monte Cristo” (Jim Caviezel version): “God sees you out the corner of His eye.”

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