Twenty-one weeks today. That's how far along I would be with baby Ande whom we lost through miscarriage eight weeks ago. Eight weeks, yet it feels like forever. Just as I can scarecly remember life without Abel and Amariah, I can scarcely remember life without Ande--or at least without the hope of Ande. I miss my baby every day, and I long for the day when we'll meet in heaven. I am at peace with the waiting (to meet, that is), and yet I wonder. I wonder what life is like for Ande, privileged to skip out of this sin stained world and right into heaven with Jesus. I wonder if my baby knows me though we've never met. I wonder if Ande is a boy or a girl. I wonder how my baby's early departure will play out in God's perfect plan. I wonder how I would be looking and feeling at 21 weeks pregnant. I wonder if God will again open my womb before the January 20, 2009, due date. I wonder. I wait. I trust. I hope. "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known" (1 Corinthians 13:12).
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