& here we are. Harpie’s due date. June 10th. A day I joyously embraced starting in September, & dreaded with the loss in late November.
If I had to sum up this day into one word, it would be “bittersweet.” The bitterness of losing Harpie & the sweetness of Harrison, who has exhausted himself today by flips, spins, & kicks. I have been amazed at how sad I do feel today, despite my love of Harrison. I wear my Harpie pendent & occasionally find myself wondering if I would be in the hospital, holding my child. My heart still aches with a longing to know my first baby, even though I will get to hold Harrison in less than four months, & then watch him grow.
We wouldn’t have Harrison without Harpie. & that is the sweetest gift we could ever receive, at the most painful price we could have ever imagined.
Do I believe in a greater plan? Of course. Has the past year cemented that belief? Beyond a shadow of a doubt. It is so easy to say the cliche things through hard times — “God has a plan for you” or “There is a purpose.” These things are so hard to grasp & stomach while we suffer. (To be honest, I wanted to punch anyone in the face that dared utter those words to me.) But without a doubt, Nate & look back on the past 6 months & know that Harpie’s life & story has a purpose far beyond what we could have imagined.
I have been shocked at the outpouring of love from strangers & friends that follow our story. (I wish there was a way to thank you all individually!) I am amazed at the number of people that have sent me emails & comments on how touched they are by the honesty & the guttural grief, saying that it tied ends together or unintentionally offered support & solace. & through this, I have come to realize that losing Harpie did have a purpose. That all those nights of me sobbing in the shower, crying to God for answers, are coming full-circle — THIS is Harpie’s purpose. That our sweet little babe, only 12 weeks old, had the power to comfort people, reach them, & tie us together. The loss was a humbling lesson in compassion for me, & I am forever thankful for the person that God is shaping through the loss.
& for Harrison. There is no way to recognize Harpie & the pain without thanking God for my little boy. I have to believe that God had a purpose for Harpie’s loss, & part of that purpose was to make room in the world for Harrison — that Harrison has a purpose that is even larger than Harpie. & through the pain & joy, both Harpie & Harrison have given others hope. Hope that one tragic loss does not mean another. Hope in always trusting the bigger plan & pulling up by the bootstraps. Hope in a purpose is not a clear-laid path.
Tonight, I will probably cry. For what happened, what never was, & what could have been. But I will also feel absolute, undying joy with Harrison & thank God for this bigger plan & for His ability to hold me through the past 6 months.
this hand is bitterness
we want to taste it
let the hatred numb our sorrow
the wise hand opens slowly
to lilies of the valley and tomorrowthis is what it means
to be held
how it feels
when the sacred is torn from your life
and you survive
this is what it is
to be loved
and to know
that the promise was when everything fell
we’d be held
~Natalie Grant
