Of love and loss

 A friend of mine is miscarrying her baby. 

It brought me back to those days, six years ago, when I went through those same deep waters. I didn't know what was wrong, and I suspected correctly that it was due to my health at the time.  It didn't make it easier.  

Now, the Lord has blessed me with two more little ones, and I'm so thankful.   But I was reminded of those days and the lessons learned.  

We buried my first miscarried babe at the foot of a tree In our yard, and my beloved read my favorite Psalm, number 139:

1 O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.
2 Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
3 Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.
5 Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.
7 Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
8 If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
10 Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.

The knowledge that the Creator of heaven and earth knew me and the wee ones I lost and held me sustained me during those days. And that he still holds them is still a comfort. 

13 For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.

14 I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.

15 My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.

As I talk to my friend,  I can only say this: even the babes we've lost aren't lost to Him. One day I pray to meet these babes who have never known sadness or sickness, and have always lived in the presence of the Lord.

Requiem

In my mother's face

I now see the lines of her mother.

I've missed that face for twenty years:

The tender smile,

the gentle but savvy expression 

that reveals a life well-lived.

As my face collects evidence of time

I pray it reflects the same:

generational wisdom passed down 

from mother to daughter,

turning what seems hard 

into grace-filled experience.

Romans 5:3-5

3 And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience;

4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope:

5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given to us.

40

I'm 40, and I mourn, not for my years, but for my babies who are growing up.  

At 30, I'm mourned for dreams unfulfilled. Arms empty and wanting, wishing for small feet and voices saying Mama.  Now three little ones raise their voices in that siren song. One, not quite six months, still cries for comfort in the wee hours of the morning.  

Life is now a whirlwind of caring for all the needs of these littles. Their needs, their disputes, their dreams, their problems, their love: they are my world. 

Seven years ago, when my oldest was just barely six months old, I had no idea how quickly she would grow, how tall she would become, and how she would strive to be older. My heart breaks a little every time I glance into the past, once again looking at who she once was.  Her personality, always bigger than life, has continued to grow with her, and my home is full of laughter, drama, and singing. Had I known then what I know now,  I would have held on a little longer to each milestone.  

I understood better when my first son arrived three short years ago.  I took more time, breathed in his babyhood, and nursed him as long as I could.  But yet again, his height is deceptive; he already looks four. His little soul must have been bathed in sunshine, for he lives for good times, and his mother tongue is humor.

My babe is already growing up too quickly. Born a week sooner than I anticipated, he's continued to hit every milestone early. We think he smiled true smiles his first week, and was flipping over by the second. He began expressing his opinions early on, and he belly laughs with gusto.  Now, as he rolls around and works towards crawling, taking little hops with his legs, I want time to slow down yet again. 

My life is too full to mourn my own years.  But my children's years seem to be flying on wings. Grateful, blessed by their lives, I wish, once again, for a little more time.