Our church is full of young families. At any one time, there are at least a dozen women pregnant. A new baby is born nearly every month. So when we found out that we were pregnant, we were glad to be part of that excitement. We had wanted to add to our family and were so thankful. And it was fun to share with all those other expecting parents.
Since learning of Henry's condition, that excitement has been tempered. We're still excited to meet our son, but we do not have the same hope and expectation for a lifetime of parenting. Our time with Henry will be short. And interacting with expectant parents and new parents is hard. I don't want to detract from their joy, but at the same time, seeing all those babies just breaks my heart.
People at church are well meaning. But we are starting to receive the kind of well intended comments that we read would come. "I was reading this book, and I just want you to know this about your baby." "I know this is hard but I want you to know this about your baby." "Just remember this about your baby."
Folks mean well, but the best comments are ones of love and support. (And I don't need you to tell me anything about my son.) "I'm sorry to hear about Henry. I love you." "I'm so sorry to hear your news. Please come to our house for dinner." "I love you brother. Here's a key to my house. Anytime you need to get away, come on over." I take great comfort in the kindness and supprt we've received. I see God in my life despite my grief and pain.
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