A caveat before I get going: this blog entry probably will not be very funny. This morning on my way to work the radio announcers were reflecting back on the year's headlines in preparation for the upcoming new year celebration and it got me reflecting as well. I spent the drive in this morning trying to find a word or phrase to sum up 2010. I tried out several from "hope" to "miracles", but the one that kept popping up was "grace."
For obvious reasons, 2010 is a year I will never forget, since it is the year my sweet Pumpkin was born. As any parent can attest, that is a memory I am betting does not fade. Yet, 2010 and her birth were so much more. To fully appreciate my 2010, I had to go back through the pain of the years preceding it.
It's fitting that Pumpkin's middle name is Hattie, because the grace that has embodied this year began with her great grandmother, for whom she was named. In 2005, I lost my grandmother. I was by her side for the last days of her life. In her very last days, I held her hand, assuring her that it was okay to let go, and it was then that I promised her that I was going to name my baby after her. The funny thing is that she responded with a scowl. You see, Mee Maw hated the name "Hattie." Regardless, it was important to me to have that name because my Mee Maw embodied unconditional love. She had her quirks and she drove us all nuts at times, but boy what I would do for one of her (in)famous nagging phone calls right now or to have her hold her namesake just one time. While I could devote an entire post/blog/book to my Mee Maw, I will not do that here, but I must briefly write about her life (and death) to set the framework for the hardest (and most grace-filled) time of my life, which began with the heartbreak of her unexpected death.
Mee Maw's passing was immediately followed by tragedy after tragedy, in the form of two Hurricanes better known as Katrina and Rita. First, my little brother - who was getting a fresh start in law school in New Orleans - lost everything to Katrina. Then, just weeks later, my parents home and lives were wrecked by Rita. All of this within one month of my grandmother's death. It was almost too much for one family to deal with, yet we did and, looking back, we were covered in His Grace throughout that time. We were fortunate to lose only material items and to have each other through that time, but it was hard, particularly because it interrupted what would have been our normal period of grieving for Mee Maw.
As we were all trying to put back our lives after 2005 and hoping for a better year to come, the trials continued. Mom became ill and was hospitalized, tests were run, diagnoses were conflicting and confusing. We spent the better part of the following year in and out of doctors offices from Lake Charles and Houston trying to find answers and relief for her. All of that lead me to the decision to leave Houston and move home. I couldn't stand the thought of losing someone else and having missed out on any of the important (or trivial) things. I never regretted moving and I found a wonderful job, but it was hard and an adjustment nonetheless.
Finally, in 2008 I met the love of my life. Certainly this had to be the beginning of the upward swing. Unfortunately, that was not the case. In the span of just five months we went from the elation of expectation to the unspeakable heartbreak of losing two babies. After the test results came back on the second miscarriage and I was told it was a little girl, I just didn't think I had the strength to try again. It was too hard, particularly in the first year of a new marriage. I knew that I would not - could not - survive another loss, but I decided that was a chance I was willing to take.
With the constant guidance of my incredible OB and the unfailing support of my loving husband and family, we tried again. I took more pills than I could count, visited the doctor weekly, and had dozens of ultrasounds performed. When we made it past the first 10 weeks, a weight was lifted off of my shoulders, but the shadow of doubt loomed. Then, two months later we learned it was a little girl. I cried - tears of joy and fear mixed together. I was scared to name her, scared to fix her room up, scared to death to lose her.
So we proceeded with caution. We celebrated the holidays and rang in 2010 with the Saints first superbowl win (a miracle in itself). As odd as it sounds, it was then that I knew that 2010 was going to be different. Each year since 2005, I have prayed for the upswing, prayed that things would be better, different. There were times when I felt that we would just never get out of the rut we had been in. Yes, there were times when my faith was dim, my hope waning; yet, I never gave up that faith, knowing that even in the darkest times He was with me.
And then it was 2010. This was the year that things would change. This was the year that things were going to start looking up. This was the year that a renewed hope came into the world in the form of our little Pumpkin. The first moment that she was laid on my chest, I knew that life would never be the same - and it hasn't. The things that seemed important to me before, are now so trivial; the things that once seemed hopeless are renewed. When I held her in my arms that first time, I held God's Grace and knew Him without a doubt more fully and more intimately than ever before. I knew his unconditional love - like I had known it through my grandmother - in this new little Hattie Girl.
So, yes, I will always remember 2010 as the year that my baby girl was born; but more importantly, I will always remember 2010 as the year of God's Grace working more tangibly than ever before. I love all of you reading this and wish you all health and happiness in 2011.
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