The night before Jairus was born we went out to dinner. We laughed and had a great time, enjoying what we assumed was one of our last dinners out as a family of four. We felt excited and ready to bring Baby 3 into the world, and looked forward to the readjustment of lugging the car seat around again, figuring out how to get 3 kids fed in one small booth, teaching Hazen not to dip the pacifier in ketchup.
We went out to eat tonight. The kids behaved really well and actually ate what was put in front of them. Mark and I both got to have a beer and the food was delicious. All in all a very nice time. And yet I wanted to scream, "We're not really a family of four! One of us is missing! Our baby isn't here, can't you tell?! Can't anyone in here see past this happy shell we've learned to put on to cover up our breaking hearts?"
It occurs to me often that as time continues to pass, we'll readjust again. We'll get used to being a family of four. Or maybe I'll think of it as five minus one. For all who don't know us, I'm sure it seems as though nothing is out of place. We've got a little girl in a princess dress and a little boy shoving crayons down his straw. We are able to smile and chat, and though the conversation is often of heavy things, its not always so. And no one can tell. It makes me wonder what is really going on in the lives and hearts of those around us. All those smiling people.