Thou didst weave me in my mother’s womb.
Psalm 139: 13
May 5th. All around us are signs of Cinco de Mayo. It’s all over facebook, the news, it’s even on Google calendar. May 5th. A day of celebration.
May 5th. The due date of our first child. The child we lost 8 years ago.
The pregnancy was a surprise. The loss was heartbreaking.
Grief is a funny thing. A heart-stopping, knee-buckling, ache-inducing thing. It hits at the craziest times and the pain takes your breath away. And every May, as the due date of my little lost one approaches, I feel that pain all over again.
I used to wonder how I would ever get over it.
The answer is that you don’t, but one day you wake up and realize you don’t mind carrying it with you.
And 8 1/2 years ago, when I was pregnant with this little one, I wrote these words in my journal:
There is so much excitement and joy… yet so many fears. I am so afraid I will lose you. What if I miscarry and never have the chance to hold you, to love and nurture you?
I am thankful we have a God Who is in control; Who knows what is best for us (all three of us). I take contentment and joy in knowing that if we do lose you here on earth, God will hold you in Heaven.
My child. What volumes those words speak! I am a mom! Not going to be… AM one. And soon, very soon, I pray you will be with us where we can love you in a whole new way.
I love you.
No, I never had the chance to hold that sweet child.
I still love my child.
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