July 3rd won't always mean as much as it does today, just as August 26th doesn't mean much anymore. Just arbitrary due dates, neither you, nor your big sister arrived on. But today it's hanging here, heavy on my heart, tearing open the wound of December 23rd all over again.
I can't help but remember the details of that day, the anger, the fear, the pain. It would be so easy to slip into the horrible sadness of it all. It'd be easy to lock myself away today and do nothing but cry and wallow in the miserable ache that comes with losing a child. It wouldn't take any effort and in some ways it'd be completely understandable for me to do.
But instead, today, I'm at peace. I'm choosing to replace the ache of an empty womb with the joy of a full heart. I'm letting go of the awful memories and clinging to the reality of what I have been given instead: a saint.
Over the last six months, I've struggled to fully understand the magnitude of my statement above because I was so often focused on what I had lost and not what I had gained. I held on to the loss of a child and forgot about the joy that comes from gaining a personal intercessor in heaven. But in the last couple of weeks I've felt such a shift. I've begun to see the fruit of your prayers for me, prayers of healing and comfort and trust. And I've begun to realize that although terrible things happen, we can choose to bring joy into them.
We chose to name you John Simeon because of the comfort we felt while reflecting on Mary, the Mother of God, and the Apostle John at the foot of the cross. Despite the heartbreaking scene, peace flowed from Christ's words to his mother and friend: "Woman, behold your son... Son, behold your mother." Mary lost her only Son that day in the cruelest of ways; but in reality, she gained a son in John the apostle and, even better, eternal life through the sacrifice of her Son. John, too, lost the one he loved so well in such a horrible way, but in reality he gained a mother and the gates heaven were opened to him.
The moment I held you in my hands for the first time was different than I ever could have imagined. Like Mary, my heart was breaking, but the moment I laid eyes on you, I heard the words of Christ, "Woman, behold your son." All the fear and pain and anger rushed away into the abyss and instead peace flooded in. In that moment of tragedy, I smiled. I stared in awe. I loved in a way I didn't know I was capable. I met a piece of heaven.
That moment of peace and joy has always remained. It is a gift that cannot be given back, but it can be ignored. And to be honest, I've ignored it too often these last six months, choosing instead of remember the sorrow and loss.
But today, I choose joy. I choose peace. I choose to focus on the gift of my saint and not the loss of my earthly child. I choose to celebrate and not mourn. I choose to remember the words of Christ, and behold my saint in heaven.
This day will not mean all that much in the future, just an arbitrary due date, you did not arrive on, but today it means a lot. Today, it means peace.
St. John Simeon, pray for us, sweet boy.
