My friend lost her baby today, and my heart breaks for her. My prayers have been for her ever since I heard this sad news. I don't know if people knew she was expecting, but I knew she was very excited to welcome this new person into her family. Person. A real live person died. The hard part about committing to blogging whatever God puts on my heart is that sometimes it's very painful...and personal.
When I heard about this loss, I was immediately whisked back to a day when I was on the listening end of the phone, hearing my beloved son and daughter-in-law crying over the loss of my expected grandchild. It broke my heart listening to them mourn their first child. I told them it would be okay. I told them it would stop hurting, but I lied. It doesn't stop hurting.
Then I got thinking about the day my beloved niece called, telling me the sad news that she lost her baby as well. We bawled together. Sobbing and mourning on the phone, until we got most of the sadness out of our systems. I cried with my sisters-in-law when they lost their children. Some of them more than once. We are like the women of Jerusalem that it mentions in the story of Christ's crucifixion. They are following this procession of death, following behind a bloodied and beaten Savior. They know he's dying, and are overcome with the grief of losing hope. That's what a miscarriage feels like. Hope dying.
I lost my child in March of 2001. Harriett was my youngest at the time, which means this would be my 6th child. Some people tried to comfort me by reminding me how blessed I am. Five healthy children! As a Mother of Many, I can tell you that they are not interchangeable. What you love about each one is not the same as the others. God in his infinite wisdom has created each one magnificently and differently. Maybe it was greed or selfishness, but I loved THAT baby. I wanted THAT baby. I mourned THAT baby. I named the baby "Will". Mostly as a way to give him back to God, and give him up. (I assumed he was a boy.) He was always God's Will and not mine. I just got to love him for a bit.
But I had a really hard time afterward, adjusting to the feeling of hope dying. I imagine that's what the disciples felt like in the upper room after the crucifixion. Wandering around not really sure what to do. Feeling lost. Thinking to yourself, "It's not supposed to be like this. I thought He was the One. And he's dead. Now what?" Where do you go? Where do you find answers?
Luckily, I have an Aunt Patty that doesn't question when God tells her to do things, she just does them. She found a prayer book in my late Grandfather's things and sent it to me. It's called the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, and I started praying it the day it came in the mail. (2 or 3 days after I lost the baby.) It brought me comfort and peace. As for the women of Jerusalem, they went to the tomb and got the message that Jesus was alive and was going on before them. (3 days after His death, Hmmm?) This message also brought them comfort and peace. It brings it to me, too. Because I know Will lives and has gone before me. He brings a smile to my face now, amid the tears.
My hope lives. It was just buried in a tomb for the weekend. But He came back for me. I know I mention that a lot, but it absolutely astounds me. He came back for me. Jesus told the women of Jerusalem not to weep for Him. I still do, a little. (Who am I trying to kid, I'm like Niagara Falls over here!) He said weep instead for yourselves and your children. And I do. But my hope still lives. And I am so thankful to be a part of God's Will, if only for a few months.
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