I think of how drastically our lives have changed in one short year. Some days, I can't remember it. Other days, it feels like yesterday, hours away, in my memory. We are coming upon almost four years without Jonah. Four long years. I talk to older ladies at the nursing home as they recall the horrors of losing their children, burying infants or toddlers. Seventy to eighty years may have passed, they'll still hang their heads and whisper, "I was never the same afterwards." It's true. We are never the same. But as I tell everyone, there is a blessing in every tragedy, whether or not, you choose to see it or accept it, is completely up to you. I choose to make Jonah's short life a blessing. I want to remember our short days together with happiness. I choose to work toward congenital heart defects awareness. But it doesn't just stop there. Without Jonah, we would have never opened our home to the children in our care. We went from one child - one lonely, only child - to five children. They each are unique in their own way and they each bring a wonderful dynamic to our family. They push me to my limit, at times, but they each bring out something different in me. I learn about myself as I learn about their personalities, their fears, their pasts and what I hope for their future. With each child, we remind ourselves that we don't care about their past, our only concern is for their future. We are preserving that each day that they come home to a safe place with a positive environment. Did we expect things to be this way? Absolutely not. Two years ago, we said only one child. We'd only bring one child into our home. With each child we met, we found a new mission. Some didn't work out the way we had planned, but we did everything, within our power, to protect that child and get them the care they needed to be successful in life.
Three and a half years ago, Elijah lay beside me in bed, asking many questions about Jonah. He cried because he had only wanted a brother. He was a strong six year old but weak in that moment. I whispered that we would give him a sibling, I promised. He looked at me through teary brown eyes, "You tried that, mom. It didn't work." I laughed. It was so simple to Elijah. His mind was innocent, clouded by the harsh reality that baby's do die. Those moments are long gone. Jonah's memory still prevails in our home, but those conversations aren't present around here. We're busy, just being a family. We've very imperfect within these walls, but collectively, with all our pieces, we rarely notice the flaws. And for that, I am thankful. Thankful that Jonah was with me for 17 days to show me how important life really is....to be appreciative for every given moment with our children, biological or not.
With an open home, we have opened our broken hearts.
