Tomorrow would be my due date.

I woke up this morning and began thinking about my day with this in mind:

Tomorrow I'm 16 weeks pregnant.

This isn't my first pregnancy, or even my second.  And yet, my arms ache and my house is quiet and empty.

I've learned in grief that there are days that surprise me - and while everyone is different, for me, those days end up being ones of "coincidental" date overlaps, or "milestones" of some sort, or repetition of days of the week or times of the year.I've been reminded many times in this pregnancy of my pregnancy with Jacob.  I was also pregnant with him in the summer.  Granted, two months behind where I am now, but still, I carried him during these months of our summer assignments as well.  Where life was different and adventures were to be had and opportunity to draw close to the Lord was all around.

And as the weeks have crept past, it has felt like a little bit of a journey of getting to the "next stage" - which has both its benefits, and it's drawbacks.  In some ways, it's helped me to stay present with where God has us.

We have had to lean in, and remind ourselves... today, for as far as we know, I am still pregnant.  I am pregnant until proven otherwise.

After a brief hiccup with some early blood draws, we had an early ultrasound and saw this baby's heartbeat.  For days - weeks, even - after that, we would remind ourselves, when we feared miscarriage again, that we got to see this baby's heartbeat! Thinking of our elation as we saw that flickering heart on our chocolate-chip-sized baby... the way my whole body shook as we sat and waited to hear verification that this baby was growing. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking of it.

We saw a heartbeat for a second time, we saw me go through the waves of different aspects of pregnancy, and we were able to truly treasure the moments that we know - as of right now - that our baby is alive, and seemingly thriving.

But we also have held back.  We found out we were pregnant, and of course, were so excited.  Another little life to love and nurture!  But we were hesitant.  How do you bond when you are living in fear?  How do you communicate the love?  How do you press into the fears and into the desire to pull back because it feels like it might hurt too much if you dive in again?  The truth is, it'll hurt deeply regardless. And we are bonded.  And we are attached.  Because this little baby is ours, and we love him or her.

Pregnancy after loss - after multiple losses - has been a world to navigate that comes as strangely and as uniquely as grief.  I'm reminded again, to just do the next thing.  Take the next nap.  Make the next meal.  Walk into the next appointment.  Even when the knots in your stomach seem to be overtaking you and you haven't slept in anticipation for it.

And tomorrow, another step comes in this pregnancy.  I'll be 16 weeks.At just over 16 weeks with Jacob, we found out about his neural tube defect.  It has marked my "befores" and "afters" so distinctly.  And here we are again, facing 16 weeks.  I almost don't want to.  I don't know if we'll find out if this baby I'm carrying will follow a similar road as Jacob, or if we'll get to take this baby home with us in December.  I'll find out soon enough, at my next appointment, but for now, I'm taking a step into the familiarity and into another "milestone" of my grief - another "first" - this time, the first time I've made it to 16 weeks with another baby.

It makes my grief for Jacob feel a little more fresh.  I miss 16-week-in-utero Jacob.  I remember so vividly what his ultrasounds looked like then.  And now, I'm here again, but with another 16-week-in-utero baby.  And it's not Jacob.  And I love this baby, but I miss him.

Coincidentally, tomorrow marks what would have been my due date with the summer baby that we lost in late November.

See how crazy timing and grief works?  Processing the loss of my first baby, who we carried to term and got to hold and know and say goodbye to after seven hours, and all of the trauma that came with every step of his life, now meets, like two different oceans, with the loss of our second baby, the one we only knew of for a few weeks.

It feels slightly overwhelming.

It also feels slightly freeing.Beautiful, even.

All day I've been feeling heavy when I think about tomorrow approaching.  But in this moment, as I sit and meet with the Lord, and ask Him to meet my heart in it, I see the beauty of it all.  I feel hopeful.  That even as all else in the past has literally led to ashes, He says that He will make all things new.  That He makes beauty from ashes.

And I believe Him.

My hope comes from nothing else - no healthy diagnoses, no positive pregnancy tests, no "more days" and "more time"-s - than Him.

May he write that in my heart.  May I surrender to Him in the moments of weakness that I surely feel this week as I rest in the heartache of all who I miss.  May I cling to the hope I have in Him alone, that my life is hidden with Christ on high... that when Christ, who is my life, appears, I will also appear with him in glory.

Tomorrow would be my due date.  And part of the sorrow of that means the beauty of the fact that tomorrow I have known another child for 16 weeks.  And here we are.  Where the oceans meet, where the beauty and ashes come into play, and where I see God's grace and glory most.  And I'm thankful.