We learned that you would be joining us on June 7th, when the Lord told us about you. We saw a positive pregnancy test on June 27th. All at once I was scared, excited, nervous and pumped to be swept up in God's glory. Afterall, He would have to lend us a lot of grace to get through homeschooling, cloth diapering, 3 under 3, losing half our income, etc.
On July 5th the Dr told us you may not join us afterall and I refused to believe him. I knew you weren't a blighted ovum because I saw you in there. I held fast to faith and 2 weeks later saw you and your precious heartbeat. Over the next 2 weeks I told everyone how good God is to reassure us. I was even arrogant. I am remorseful for that now.
Naturally, I settled into becoming your mother. As hard as it is, I praised the Lord everytime I had a wave of nausea. Everytime I peed *again* I said a prayer of thanks for you. Everytime your big brother and sister got me up in the night and I thought to be grumpy, I decided against it and praised the Lord that I get to be involved in the miracle of all these precious lives. Having lost a baby before, I tried to roll with every pregnancy symptom I felt. "it's only a few months." "the reward is so great." "it just means the baby is happy."
But the hormones get the best of me--always have--and so sometimes I wasn't the nicest mommy to your brother and sisters. Sometimes I was grumpy and lazy and paid for it later in the form of their attitudes and unwillingness to help me. Now I wish I had celebrated every moment instead of saying, "it will be better in a few more weeks." I wish the only memories your siblings will have of you were not me sitting on my butt and barking like a mean witch.
On August 4th your daddy went in for his vasectomy. We contemplated a long time and decided that we were taking a leap of faith. Several moms told me to wait...make sure you were okay, but I was just so arrogant. Besides, I didn't want *another* baby; I wanted YOU. I wanted you because the Lord told me about you and changed my heart when I thought I couldn't love another child. I want you because you are my miracle baby and I want desperately to cling to a miracle-to be a part of feeling and then watching that miracle grow.
On August 5th I went in for a regular appointment and had another ultrasound. The nurse-a good friend of mine-and I joked about how we hoped/thought you would be a boy. But then the Dr only found your sack and your yolk. And I stared at that screen, knowing what it meant, but not wanting to hear it or know it. And he told me that you were gone...being reabsorbed into my body. He said your sack may stay with me another month or more. He said he is sorry and gave me a hug. You must have been very special to get Dr Kingsley and I to hug.
On the drive home I cried for you. I told God that I am angry He could promise me something and it would be ripped away. I feel lost and it just doesn't feel fair. I told your daddy a few days ago that I felt like I was floating at sea and waiting for God to save me...just floating, not really in agony or in pain, but just waiting. Now I feel like I'm drowning in this sea, but I know I won't because He will help me breathe in this awful place.
I feel stupid for being so arrogant. For being so prideful. I feel remorse for not being joyful every moment of your tiny life. I feel jealous that other people get to feel their babies grow but I will be stuck in perpetual pregnancy until the Lord sees fit to release me. I feel anger at Satan for ruining my dreams, because he is the one who kills, steals and destroys. I feel a mixed feeling of being angry that I let your daddy get a vasectomy because I just desperately want a baby to fill this void and feeling glad that I let him because no other moment in our lives will be "perfect" again and we will never be able to fill the space in our family you would have filled. Mostly I just feel lonely without you. I'm so grateful you're with our Father now, but that doesn't stop making me wish that I had gotten to feel you kick, that I got to hold you and kiss your tiny cheeks and watch you grow and learn.
Today we went shopping as a family. I thought retail therapy might take my mind off of you and the empty sack that's taking up residence in my body, with no promise of life. While I soaked up every minute of your siblings and the miracles they themselves are, looking around only made me think more of you. Waves of grief threatened to consume me as I passed baby blankets, the sling I wanted to buy to carry you around in, the stroller I wanted to get to carry you and your brother in, Motherhood Maternity and all the gloriousness of covering a growing belly with stretchy fabric. I pray you can see your mommy and know that she wants you so much and that you are so well loved by me, your daddy, your sisters and your brother.
Baby, I will hope and pray for you until the moment I start bleeding. Then I will miss you so very much. I will mourn you--probably past what other people think is okay or normal. I will pray that one day God shows me how He'll turn these ashes into beauty. And I will always love you.