This is week three after losing our baby Faith. I think I have felt every emotion possible: hope, despair, empowerment, joy, sadness, restoration, silliness, anger, frustration. It’s these last two that bother me. I know it’s perfectly normal, but I also don’t want to be consumed by them. “A fool gives full vent to anger, but the wise quietly holds it back.” Proverbs 29:11
Monday I took her car seat out of my car. We had to run something to a friend’s house. It was my first time driving in two weeks, so I had to reinstall the girls’ car seats, and in so doing, I uninstalled Faith’s. I took it to the shed for storage with tears in my eyes. I realized it’s going to be all those little things that are going to get me now. Continue reading
I cannot adequately put into words in one sitting what has happened over the past two weeks. I have had small snippets of being able to use my words, so I will turn to those moments already recorded for this post.
Monday, February 8
To my dear unborn baby,
I have been meaning to write you a letter for several weeks now. I wrote one when I first learned about you, but the computer ate it. It told you how much you were wanted. How you were a gift from God. That you were put on this earth to bring this family closer together and to strengthen our faith. It told you that even though we didn’t plan for you, that others might say you were an accident, or more affectionately an “oops baby,” that you were in fact none of these. That God planned you from the beginning. It was a letter telling you that I cried when I learned of you because I didn’t think I was ready for you. But I put aside my selfish desires and couldn’t wait to find out who this special baby was going to be. Because God created you, He knew what He was doing. His plan is always the best. We would just have to wait and find out what His plan was.
But now I will never get to meet you. I will never know who you would have become. Because God’s plan was never for us to keep you. He wanted you for Himself all along. Jesus said, “Follow me!” And you got up and followed him. (Mark 2:14) You just couldn’t wait to be with Him. I don’t blame you. But I am going to miss you. When you leave my body tomorrow I will be left with an empty womb. I can’t remember the last time I felt you move, but now I think I feel you sometimes.
I didn’t know it could hurt this much. I didn’t know it was possible to shed so many tears. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much when you’ve never even met them. I didn’t think I was ready for you, but now I’m not ready to say goodbye. God, reveal your plan in us. My precious baby, I love you. You will always hold a special place in my heart.
Ultrasound on December 23. She was talking to us.
That time between planting a seed and seeing it sprout is by far the hardest part of gardening. It starts with hope. Hope that you did it all right, that the weather will cooperate, and that it will turn in to something good. But as time passes, as you continue to water this patch of dirt day after day, seeds of doubt begin to take root. You start to analyze everything and find any fault you can with the process. Did you water too much? Too little? Did they get too cold? Did you not plant to the right depth? Were the seeds too old? Et cetera. Et cetera. But you continue to have faith that maybe, just maybe, something good will come of those seeds. And then one day, when you least expect it, there’s a little sprout sticking out of the ground. Two days later there are ten. The next day, twenty-four. And you know that your patience was worth it, even through the doubts. The garden is growing.
My favorite part of gardening – seeing a new sprout.