May 16th

Was the due date for the baby I was pregnant with between Flynn & Gabe. Flynn was only 8 months old when I got pregnant & even though we were 'open' to pregnancy at that point (we were wanting to have babies close together & with my lack of ovulation, we figured the best way to do that was to start trying right away after baby Flynn was born), I was pretty surprised to have gotten pregnant without "trying" (clomid, progesterone, glucophage, ovulation calendars/predictors, etc.). And sometimes with the surprise of a pregnancy, comes the unappreciation of it.

We were happy as larks that we were already going to have another (especially with little effort of 'making' that baby) & I seemed to be unstable about those emotions. One minute I'd be on cloud 9, the other I'd be in sheer panic, consulting everyone I knew who had babies 18 months apart.
I recall standing in the water sports aisle at Target. They were marking down all their life preservers, beach toys, swim gear --- which is the time we buy all our stuff for the following summer. Flynn was still considered an infant & so we were deciding (since she was so tiny), if she'd still be wearing infant stuff the following year.
I started to cry, at the overwhelming thought of having TWO babies in the pool that following summer.

I think back to that often. It's one thing I can't get out of my mind as to how I wasn't positive about EVERY single thing having to do with that baby.

So, when I lost that baby, don't you know -- I beat myself up in guilt about all those little moments that I wasn't high as a kite on the thought of the little one growing inside me.

What a hard thing to know life, love that life within you, make plans for that life.... then, just like the moment you learned about that baby, you are losing that baby. And there's nothing you can do.
I've had some pretty tough things happen in my life & have felt complete helplessness in those situations; but nothing like losing the life within you.

The doctor referred to the baby I was losing as a 'fetus', 'tissue', etc. But anyone believing in God-created life, the moment it begins, knows that the instant that baby is thought into existance by our heavenly father, it is a life...a person...a part of your family.

Being a mother losing a baby is a very strange role to be in. And you don't quite know your job in all of it. But grief.

I remember the moments I realized that it was happening -- and called my sister to tell her. It just hurt so much. And I couldn't stop it.

And that night, Jeff held me as I cried myself to sleep.

But was comforted when I remembered that someone hurt about it, just as much as I did. My Father, who was allowing it to happen, was also hurting with me. He was wiping away my tears but no doubt shedding His own.
He knew exactly what it was like to lose your child.

We were of course never sure if that baby was to be our baby girl, or baby boy. But both Jeff & I agreed we felt like the baby was another girl.

And like all hurts, the sting fades just a little bit over time. But didn't quite feel like it was hurting less until my friend brought me a framed drawing. It is a picture of Jesus, holding a baby in an embrace. Just like we would've held that baby. Loving the baby, breathing in the baby, looking at the baby.

I was so comforted by the visual reminder that was the reality. And that when we get to heaven, we'll have a member of the family waiting there. A child we never got to meet here will be waiting for us. But until I'm there to mother that baby, to hold her in my arms like I got to hold my other babies, Jesus will be holding her.