It has been exactly two weeks since we said both hello and goodbye to our son. Megan and I are learning more and more about grief. There may not be any great spiritual truths in this blog post, this is mainly a place where I feel like I can express what we are feeling right now. Perhaps you can get a glimpse how you can assist others who are going through a great loss in their lives.
When we found out Megan was pregnant with our first child, I am sure we were like most naive new parents. My head filled with ideas of things I wanted to do with my child. There were dreams about going to ballgames, plays, Disney World, and the zoo. I looked forward so much to seeing our little one and our dog Philo grow up together. I knew we would sing and have a Bible study together every night. I knew we would try our best to raise our child to love God. I had already dreamed of one day baptizing my child when he or she decided to become a Christian.
We were not supposed to find out the gender of our baby until January 6th, but we decided to surprise our parents for the holidays. We went in early December to "Pregnancy Treasures" in Largo, Florida to have an ultrasound. When she confirmed that we were having a son, that is when the ideas became more solid in my mind. We decided for certain in that parking lot that his name would be Joses Andrew McDonald. Thoughts of Joses learning to walk, run, hit a ball, ride a bicycle, start a campfire without matches, drive a car, preach a sermon, and so many other dreams rushed through my mind. Though I could not plan his life out completely, I was so excited for all of the new experiences I would have teaching my son new things.
Less than a month later, we found out that Joses had a neural tube defect called Anencephaly. That night, we cried harder than we ever had before. My eyes had never throbbed in such a way. All of those dreams were crushed. My son would never call me "daddy." He would never walk, crawl, or even cry. If my son were born alive, he would be blind and deaf. My heart was aching because of the many things that my son would never experience.
Now things are different. My son is dead. We still cry. Our eyes have once again throbbed from crying so much. But there is a major difference. After meeting my son, it was obvious that his body was not made for this world. Those dreams of mine for my son were never his to be had. Now that I have met my son, it is hard to imagine him playing golf on a Saturday afternoon. No, he had his own purpose. Our little "son of consolation" (Acts 4:36 KJV) was meant to encourage us and touch so many lives in ways we had never dreamed. Joses was special and served a special purpose that he was always meant to fill. He was not built in order witness the simpler beauty of this life, but to go on to the next. I no longer cry for my lost dreams for the son I wanted to have. Those dreams are meant for other children for another time, but they were never meant for Joses.
Now I cry for a different reason. My tears have come every day because I miss the son I did have. His kissable cheeks, his perfect fingers and toes, and his long black hair are what I think about now. I crave being able to hold him again. Those few hours we held him passed by so quickly.
Yes, we are grateful that our son is in a better place now. It is unbelievably comforting to know that Joses is being cared for by the almighty God. Thankfully, we do not grieve like those who have no hope, but it doesn't mean we do not grieve. I will see him again one day, but for now, my heart is broken. I miss my boy.
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