Taking the plunge: The Grave is Not Final

Truth be told, I do not want to be back here again. I don't want to be reliving this part of our journey. For me, it is the most difficult part to have to put into words. God doesn't build character and faith in us by giving us easy roads to walk, this I know to be true.
She was born early at 1:07am on April 23, and passed away around 5:40am. We decided that the funeral would be on Friday, April 26th at 4:00pm. We also decided to have a closed casket service because we chose not to have her embalmed. We knew how hard it was to let her go when the funeral home had to come pick up her little body, and with how much death showed its definite signs, we didn't want to remember her that way. The hard decisions kept coming. To view or not to view, what kind of casket do we want, what burial plot did we want..... She would be buried in the angel garden area in our church's cemetery with several other babies that had gone on before her. Looking back now I don't see how on earth I made it through those days of her being born and then burying her several days after. I had an incredible amount of energy and physical strength that I know was by the grace of God so that I could feel somewhat normal. The flowers started arriving at our house, and were such sweet, beautiful reminders of our little Joscelyn. Our house literally smelled like a giant lily. It was awesome. I know now at least one reason why God created flowers. They have a way of bringing so much beauty and peace in the midst of chaos and heartbreak. Brenton and I tried our best to get as much sleep as we could between processing everything that was happening, plans for a funeral that had to be made, and a day coming up that nobody really anticipated or looked forward to.
Family started to arrive, several dear friends from other states flew down to attend the funeral. Words will never be able to dictate how much that meant to me. Thursday, April 25, my dear friend Jeanna stole me away for most of the day. She treated me to breakfast at First Watch after which she proceeded to pamper me with a manicure, pedicure, and a new dress and sandles to wear to Joscelyn's funeral. Bandages to my wounded heart. Kindness that has left an eternal impression on me. She told me that she and her husband wanted to pay for me to have my hair done before we went to the funeral......more bandages. This along with meals being brought in, a dear friend that came down after having suffered a miscarriage only weeks before Joscelyn was born, gifts for the twins, etc., literally made us feel like were picked up and carried through those hard days.
And then Friday morning came. I woke up early and made some coffee and read a little in my Bible before I just melted into a puddle of tears thinking I couldn't possibly do what was going to be required of me that day. Thankfully, I was never alone in any of it. Brenton was off of work the whole week, thank the Lord, and was my rock even though he, too, was trying to be strong. By the grace of God, we survived and came out breathing, barely. :) I began working on a short testimony that I felt God was prompting me to share at the funeral. This terrified me, but I knew I had to do it for Joscelyn, for those attending, and to give insight on our journey with our little angel. I got dressed in the dress and shoes that our sweet friends gifted me with. Fuchsia. I chose a vibrant fuchsia for the twins and me to wear to our sweet girl's funeral. I refused to wear black. I wanted it to be a celebration and a remembrance of her life as short as it was. Our friends joined us in this and it made my spirit soar being surrounded by their support.We arrived at the church just as the funeral director was pulling into the lane with our little baby girl. As we set up a little display of pictures and flowers on her casket, Kirra and Kiana played happily in the background. They were the sweetest, happiest little angels that day. The service was the most peaceful, spirit-felt funeral I have ever been a part of. My sister sang "Healer" by Kari Jobe, our pastor read Joscelyn's obituary, Brenton's dad shared a short devotional, then I shared my testimony after which we had a few songs of praise and worship. We chose "Came to My Rescue" by Hillsong and "Beautiful" by Phil Wickham. Songs that speak exactly how we felt and that I will forever cherish. It was such a beautiful, sunny day. I know that God made the day perfect for us.
After the service we made our way to the graveside. Brenton and I carried Joscelyn's little casket out of the funeral director's van and placed it gently onto the boards that were the only thing separating her body from the ground 4 feet below. And then they lowered the casket ever so slowly into the ground. Brenton, the twins, and I each dropped a white rose onto her casket and then they began to cover it up. Shovel after shovel of dirt slowly burying our baby girl that I had just given birth to only a few short days ago. A father and mother bury their daughter, grandparents bury their granddaughter.....sisters say goodbye to their little sister that they'll never get to giggle and share secrets with. I went up and took the shovel from a friend that so sweetly helped bury our little angel. I'll never forget the sound of that shovel scraping against the dirt and wood. Part of me is haunted my it. Part of me clings to the reality and vividness of that moment. The moment that forever physically separated us. As we sat down and watched others take turns burying our baby, I wanted to scream!!! I wanted to dig her out of that pile of dirt and never let her go! My baby was NOT supposed to be in there!! Instead I sat there with empty arms and a swollen belly from what once held life and now nothing. I felt anger, peace, and rage all at once. Anger at what sin has done and the imperfections of our human bodies. Rage against the separation that death creates, but peace in knowing that it's not the end. There was so much peace. That unmistakable peace that was our Father surrounding us and sustaining us. After the burial was finished, we released a white dove as a symbol of us releasing Joscelyn. Our little bird was free, indeed. Death does not have the final say. Thank you, Jesus, it does not have the final say.