When people ask me how many grandchildren I have, I am now saying two and a half. Two beautiful granddaughters and a grandbaby in the early stages of production. But the truth is I have four--two born, one on the way, and one in heaven. My first grandchild, the one I call Peanut, miscarried at three months. But that is not the kind of reply you give to a casual question about grandchildren. Three is my equivalent of "fine" when someone asks how you are, but don't really want to know.
But there are those few that do want to know. You recognize them because they share the healing grief/joy of having children or grandchildren in heaven. It is sad to have little ones you never got to meet, but it is sadder to have no one to share that with. Those little rosebuds that died before they bloomed wait in heaven for us and we will have all eternity to spend together. They are growing up in the most joyful, perfect place possible. We miss them now, but only for now--the ones in heaven.
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