I just realized the date today when I posted on Leann’s blog just a minute ago.  It’s the 9^th anniversary of Bryan’s due date.  His 9^th birthday is just over a week away.  Nine years later and I’m still wondering what life would be like with him here.

Leann posted pictures of the stockings she’s made for her family.  I too made stockings for my family in recent years.  We’ve put up a stocking for Bryan every year since finding out we were expecting him.  We fully expected him to arrive before Christmas in 1996 and there his stocking hung just waiting to greet our baby boy.  As our family has grown, we’ve run out of mantle space for Erik and I to have stockings.  Most people don’t even think twice when they see five hanging there each year.  They probably assume there are six but some do count them and ask, “why five?”

December and early January hold many “anniversaries” in regard to Bryan.  The 23^rd was his due date.  The 27^th was the last appointment I heard his heart beat and at which I begged my doctor to induce.  The 31^st we arrived at the hospital to finally be induced and he was born still that evening.  January 3^rd we buried him along with our innocence.  I know a lot of women who have experienced a stillbirth.  Some don’t care to talk about it, some have never “dealt” with it and some, like me, will talk about it any time they please.

Something I find so difficult about these anniversaries is the time of year in which they fall.  On the one hand, Bryan’s death really brought home the price God was willing to pay to save me from my sins.  On the other hand, this is a time of year when families are gathering and everyone is expected to be constantly joyous.  I do love Christmas time.  It has always been my favorite time of the year.  It was always a time filled with happiness and love and family.  It’s not the same for me now though, it’s less magical, less….innocent.  When our other children began to come on the scene, we regained some of that by watching them experience the season, the meaning, the food, the gifts, the smells, the sights, the sounds…etc.

It’s difficult to explain I suppose.  Maybe it’s because Bryan’s birthday falls so close to the celebration of Christ’s birth.  We are reminded how Mary was pregnant and gave birth (not something easy for any mother of a stillborn child to think about).  I cannot think of being pregnant and giving birth without thinking of Bryan.  It’s impossible.  The memories of leaving that hospital empty-handed will never leave me.  All of this is brought up the week before the anniversary of my son’s birth/death and emotions surface.  In an effort to cope, I find myself turning not to the manger at Christmas but to the cross.  I relate to Mary in a way that only bereaved parents can relate.  She must have known the fate of her son even while she labored to bring him into this world.  I relate to God’s sorrow, all the while knowing that His love far surpasses my own to sacrifice His own son for those who would blaspheme and mock Him.

But, I think a big reason my gaze moves so quickly from the manger to the cross each Christmas is to remind myself that hope is not lost.  God has made a way.  I will rejoice and praise our living God side by side with my son one day.  I will be able to do this because God gave His Son for me.  This is not the end.

If you are uncertain about where you will spend eternity, I’d like to invite you to read a bit about what I believe on the subject.  Join me at Beads that Lead.