remembering Max: a tender mercy.

confession: i think i've been avoiding this lil ole blog of mine. i didn't realize how hard it would be to blog all of this. not because it's hard to talk about Max. because it's not. i love talking about the sweetest boy i've ever met. but i think it's hard to blog about because it is reliving some hard moments. the ones that i don't just talk about in casual conversation, but that are relevant to our journey and life with Max ... blogging it all is sharing something very special to my heart. and it is letting go of Max in a new way. truthfully this is still so raw. it is fresh and present to my life now ... and yet it happened. in the past tense. and i don't think i'll ever get used to talking about it that way.

sigh.

but in another way, this is therapeutic. and i feel compelled to share Mr. Max's powerful little life as a way to honor him. it's one of the little things i can do at this point, i suppose. and when i write, i feel him close to me. so here i am. continuing what i started.

this morning i woke up really early again - and i couldn't fall back asleep. i woke up with this distinct memory and image in my mind of one of the many tender mercies Heavenly Father gave to M and i throughout this experience.

it was the day of the blessing. M and i had just left the NICU and were sitting in our car. it had been another beautiful, emotionally charged day and we were exhausted. our eyelids were a little swollen and red. it was late, we hadnt eaten dinner, and we were starving - but we just sat there, motionless. honestly at that point we were sitting in silence. one thing i love about this stage of marriage is that we aren't afraid of silence the way you sometimes are when you're dating or first married. it's not that we run out of things to say, but rather that we are not self conscious or assuming that silence is an awkward pause that needs to be filled. silence is good sometimes. because in silence you arent distracted. in silence you are teachable. and in that particular silent moment, we were able to hear and listen clearly because of it.

in that silence, this overwhelming feeling came to us simultaneously. "Max isn't going to make it. he is going to die. he is going to die very soon."

M and i looked at each other. "had he felt it too?" i wondered ... and then just as that thought popped in my head M broke the silence and said, "he isn't going to make it, is he?" i couldnt say much more than a whisper "no. no he isn't."

we both cried then. i almost wanted to run back into the NICU and not leave his side ever again. but as that thought came into my mind, i knew it wasn't right -- we needed to leave and get some things in order. we needed to rest -- because we would need that rest in the future.

and while i remember that being a very sad moment realizing we weren't going to get to keep sweet Max with us, i am so incredibly grateful for it. it was like the Holy Ghost waited for this private moment - away from any people or beeping machines - to prepare us for what was coming. in retrospect it makes me realize how much God loves each of us - that he gives us the preparation and guidance we might need to go through and overcome hard things, if we are willing to stop, turn off the noise, and listen. in this instance, He knew that M and i would need to be prepared with that knowledge that Max wasn't going to make it (in a way that tests and doctors couldn't prove with science), so that we could make good decisions and make the most of our time with Max. and because of that preparation, we truly had some of the sweetest moments i've ever experienced in my life.

God is good, isn't he?

xoxo