November 16, 2004
Dear Baby,
You never got a chance to know me, but I’m your mother. I carried you for your short life of only six weeks. I was the one who saw the tiny flicker of your heartbeat on the ultrasound screen, and I may be the only person who truly misses you.
From the day I knew you were inside me, I loved you. I had dreams for you. Your sister would have been just over two years old when you were to be born. I was already envisioning a life as a stay at home mom with the two of you. I hoped you would be a girl. In my heart I’ve always thought of you as Katie. You were supposed to fit into all of your big sister’s clothes, being born in the same season. You and your cousin would have always been right about the same age. This Christmas was to be your first Christmas, right along with your cousin. It was supposed to be so much fun.
But all that ended April 18th, when I lost you forever. I don’t know why. All I know is that you weren’t growing like you should have been when we did get to peek at you at that ultrasound. They didn’t tell me that. Hindsight being what it is, it’s plain to see that you weren’t going to make it.
So since you’re already there with God, could you ask him why you didn’t have the chance to live? Could you find out for me what all this was about? Why did I have to go through the pain of losing you, someone I had never met? When will I be through mourning your death? How could I love someone so deeply whose face I’d never even laid eyes on? Why must I go through all this alone?
I guess I don’t really expect answers to any of my questions. That’s not how it works. What happens is that God tells us in the Bible that He knows what’s best for us, and that He loves us, and we just have to trust that He’s telling the truth when things like this happen. When we don’t understand the specifics of the pain, or the problems, we go back to the principles that He’s taught us through the years, and those are the closest things to answers that we will have until we get where you are now, and can ask Him face to face.
Since I’m on the subject, let’s see what God has to say about this.
Jeremiah 29:11
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD , "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Before the beginning of time, God knew about you. He knew before I was born that I would carry you, love you, and lose you. He knew, even planned my current pain. And yet, He says that His plans are not to harm me. He plans that through this I will still have hope and a future. I can see that, sort of, playing out right now. I already mentioned your big sister. Well, you now have a little sister. She wouldn’t be inside me right now if you had lived. Her life started just two months after yours ended. Early ultrasounds indicated that she was healthy. In fact looking at the pictures of you and her side by side, the contrast is remarkable. I have hope for the future in that. But there is hope also in facing that the pain I’ve felt over losing you hasn’t been the end of my life. There were times when the only thing keeping me going was your big sister and her need for a mommy. I’m the only one she’s got, so I had to get out of bed and take care of her. That’s not the case anymore. I’m not sad all the time. I almost feel bad putting this in a letter to you, but there are days when I don’t think about you at all. I used to be acutely aware of your absence every day with a pang in my heart. As time has gone on, more time passes between my thoughts of you. It doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten you, or that I didn’t love you. There’s one little girl here now who needs my attention, and there’s another on the way who I’m loving and thinking about in the ways I loved you and thought about you. All that’s to say life goes on, and God’s word indicates that it’s a good thing to go on.
Deuteronomy 31:8
“The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."
No matter how alone I may feel, I am not going through this truly alone. I may look around me and not see anyone else in tears of mourning over your tiny life, but I am never alone. Besides the Lord being with me, there are hundreds of women whose hearts ache for their tiny babies that died just the way you did. Their pain is just like mine. So many women I never knew had lost babies have come to me in my grief to try to help me. That seems to have subsided quite a bit since your little sister is on the way. I’m sure that some day I’ll be the one to go to another woman who is hurting and share in her pain. I know how she hurts. I know how her dreams have been crushed. That verse of scripture also speaks about having fear. That’s something that I didn’t quite know how to deal with, especially before I found out about this new baby. I was terrified of getting pregnant again. I didn’t want to go through this again. I was about ready to give up entirely on having any more children because I didn’t have a guarantee from God that this wouldn’t happen again. Then I was expecting. Before I could see the ultrasounds, hear her heartbeat, and know that everything was going well with her, I had fear that I would lose her the way I lost you. I guess I still have some fear. I never had any of these feelings when I was expecting my first baby. I just trusted that everything was going to be fine. In the four months I have until this baby is supposed to be born, I know, intellectually, that many things could go wrong. I am not guaranteed a healthy baby just because I’ve carried one for five months. The key to getting past that, besides noting in scripture where it says not to fear, is the knowledge that even if the worst happens, I won’t be alone, and that there is still a future for me. God’s guarantees are not healthy children, or a pain free life. He promises that no matter what, we can trust Him with everything we have, and everything we are. At the end of the day, that has to be enough. That’s all we’ve got.
I love you, and I miss you. I know you’re now with God, and that’s some comfort to me. While you’re there, get to know your Great Granddaddy Doc. From what I’ve heard, he was a pretty neat guy.
Love,
Mom
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Since losing this baby, I've had more practice at grieving. My grandfather died in January of 2007, and my father-in-law died in January of 2008. In each of those situations, the heartache of losing this baby was dredged back to the surface, and I went through all of the stages of reconciling the truth of what happened with God's goodness. There were times, especially after losing my father-in-law, that I thought I would never again be able to say, "God is good even though this happened."
A friend of mine, another choir director from a middle school in my district, has just lost her baby last week. He was full term and born alive. I don't know how long he lived after he was born, but it wasn't long. Not even a day. I can only imagine the heartache she is feeling. Please join me in praying for her. Her body is still recovering from pregnancy and the birth. I'm sure her arms are aching to hold her baby just one more time.
Living in a fallen world is no fun. I long for heaven when I will be reunited with my baby, my Pawpaw and the sweetest father-in-law anyone could imagine. Pain will be history.
Just as a matter of wrapping up the story of Baby #2, my heart wasn't healed until my Little Girl was 10 months old. My sister-in-law was due with her first baby two days behind Baby #2. It was probably 4 or 5 years before I could look at my niece and not be reminded of Baby #2. There was a definite point where I could say it didn't break my heart to think about this, or even to talk about it, and that's when I think my heart had been healed.
About 3 or 4 years later, one of my best friends experienced a miscarriage. For her it was baby #3. Walking that road with her was a healing experience for me. I think she and I went through our miscarriages for each others' sakes, only I didn't know it at the time that I was going there for her. If I help anyone else for the rest of my life, it's just gravy. That experience has served its purpose.
Well, now I'll delete this note from my facebook page. It's preserved.
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