This adventure with the grunts was almost like a biblical epic. I played the part of Moses, with a staff in one hand and a fire in the other (a propane torch) and the three young ones played the part of three members of the tribe of Joseph (their Dad). We did several of our regular things, not the least of which was the burning of enemy hordes (torching ant underwear).
The swings played a part in the adventure, as did the trampoline and then it was on down to the pond. We made many splashes with the small rocks we tossed in and another stone skipping lesson was thrown into the mix – they are still a bit young to get the concept. We hiked up to the brow of the hill on the large adjoining lot to watch the traffic – the lot is vacant except for a cell phone tower.
We finally called a halt to this episode and came back inside to the air-conditioning; it was very warm and humid. We played much inside before their parents came for them.
On another day I was out in the garden, hoeing out the weeds and grass, which so easily besets it. While doing so I was working my way through some of the emotional trauma that had been a part of my life for the last several days. Even though I am not the parent of these babies we lost, I am the grandfather and I had already started envisioning the good times I would have with them.
My eyes burned as I thought about never getting to hold and love on them or carry them around blueberry hill. I wanted to show them the pond and the various trees and such around the place and maybe get to show them some future goslings. I wouldn’t get to see their faces as they ate their first blackberries, or taste blueberries or maybe even figs or muscadines.
Above all I wanted to see them smile and hear them giggle and I wanted to be the cause of them doing that but such was not to be. As I grieved I also thought of the pain my daughter must be feeling because the little ones did not miscarry and since they were too far along to do a standard D&C labor had to be induced. The twins were delivered after over 19 hours of labor.
The staff cleaned them up and brought her the two little girls, each tucked into a small pink knit blanket. I was hesitant to view them but I knew my daughter wanted me to so I went to the hospital and there they were, lying at the foot of her bed. They were so tiny, one six inches long and the other 51/2 inches, yet so well developed for their four months of growth.
My daughter even named them, to help in her grieving process. She is leaning heavily on the Lord and said that she didn’t know what those do that know not a loving God to comfort them. I came home with a leaden heart, yet knowing that while I could not show these tiny ones the love I feel for them, I can continue to show the grand ones that are in this life the love and care due them.
Thanks to the ones that have expressed care and concern – it will just take some time and much of God’s love to heal. ec