The In-Between Days

It's been 10 years. Ten times I've lived through these in-between days, the four days our oldest son lived. I haven't named him yet on this blog. I've stared at the screen for long minutes, trying to come up with a good blog name, in the spirit of our other anonymous names (WonderBoy, SuperGirl, Mr. Incredible.) Of all of us, truly he is the most super-hero-like. He lived bravely, longer than he might have. Long enough for me to hold him before he died. No name seems to sum that up. Something with "Angel" in it seems too obvious, and doesn't sound right. I want to remember him bodily, real and present, taking up space, however small, and breathing air, however much he struggled for it. I think of the few reminders of him I hold dear: his hat, a blanket, the very few pictures, and nothing seems right for a name. I think of him when I see butterflies, or shooting stars. Tulips. And a hundred other random things, none of which would capture him in a name. In truth, it is his real name I want to use, because it is spoken too seldom. And so he is Jack. For the purpose of the blog, he can be OurJack.

Because OurJack was WonderBoy's twin, these early days in June also mark WonderBoy's birthday, and our joy at becoming parents of such a miraculous child. So Day One is always about WonderBoy, his birthday. This year it was mini-golf and pizza, with peanut butter pie instead of cake. Takes after his mama, he does.

Days Two and Three are tough. Up and down, emotionally. On the one hand, they mark the days of OurJack's life. Days we had hope, days in which life seemed possible and full and remarkable. But on the other hand, these days bring the lump in my throat and the what-ifs, and if-onlys. Today is Day Three. It was his best day. He rallied a little, it seemed to us, although I think the NICU staff knew how very sick he was. Ten years of Day Threes, and I still don't know whether to celebrate or grieve, or how to do either very well.

Tomorrow is Day Four, the day OurJack died. It will be the first time in 10 years that Mr. Incredible and I aren't together on that day. We had some time together instead earlier this week. I am making plans to spend part of the day with a friend, and other kids. I hope it will be busy and fun, the first day of summer break. It is always a relief to get through these In-Between days, and I am past feeling guilty about that. These anniversaries are difficult. And necessary. The lump in the throat, the quick unexpected tears, they keep OurJack close, and real. So I am grateful for them, and for him. For what he teaches me about life and death and joy and grief, about grace and how to go on. About faith and doubt. And what really matters. And what doesn't matter at all. I still have a lot to learn. So while I am glad that these in-between days help me grow up a little, it is merciful that they only come around once a year, because this kind of growing hurts. Even ten years later.