On loss and Mother's Day

I remember it so vividly, that morning in the shower.  The baby that had been growing within me slipped out of the body that had held it.  I knelt down, face to the floor of the bathtub, weeping.  Hot water rained on my back as I held our baby in the palm of my hand.  My whole being ached because that little life was no more.

My body, my womb, created to carry life, had miscarried this tiny one.

Such loss.

And wonder.  Because nestled there in my hand was the tiniest little figure so perfectly formed.   And I marveled at the sight even through my tears.  

* * *

A few days ago I thought of the babies we lost and right on the heels of that was the thought that we are well.   God has brought such healing.   I am content.   

Do I wish for another baby?  Oh my, yes.  But I trust my God.  And I know He knows my heart; He knows my desires, and He knows what is best.  So I yield to Him on this matter.  The once-fervent prayers of my children have ceased, as well as my own, for the most part.  I am thankful for what He has given, and my heart is full.  

* * *

Mother's Day is fast approaching, and do you know that I hadn't even thought of the ache this day might bring me?  For many years this was a difficult day for me.  But this week I've been thinking of my mom, of Mark's mom, of what we'll do to celebrate them come Sunday.  I've thought of my mom- and how difficult this day is for her, because of how deeply she misses her mom.  I've thought of a friend of mine who grieves this day, too, for the loss of her mom.  

Then this morning I happened to read this post on Ann's blog and I was undone.  I sat here on my bed with the laptop open before me and cried again for the loss of our babies. 

It always surprises me how the grief lies so closely below the surface.  It was as if that post gave me permission to grieve again.  (It's silly, isn't it?  The thought that I might need permission to grieve?)  But I feel that I do.  You've probably felt it too.  We move forward, strong and steady with the ache pressed down and tucked away out of sight.  And then someone will come and speak a word of kindness or acknowledge that they remember, and that's all it takes for the tears to stream.  But that's a good thing.  Truly.  And we want to be known, all of us.  We want people to remember our hurts; to acknowledge our losses.  So let's not forget that this Mother's Day-- that grief is right beneath the surface for so many.  Gather round the women you know and remember with them their losses, okay? It's a tender comfort, and that is a beautiful, needed thing. 

Blessings to each and every one of you.