While I try to balance my grief by not reminding others constantly of my baby losses, I have not forgotten my babies. The majority of women in this unique group remember their babies on their due dates and the loss date. If I did that, it would be 18 times a year. I don't think that would good for me or those around me. I do think about my babies every day, and some months are harder than others. April and May are more challenging months for me grief-wise. I cope quite well with it by reminding myself of the promises God put in His Word. There's a plan. I shall go to them, but they shall not return to me. (2 Samuel 12:23)
Last year, Caleb took an antique planer box I admired and refinished it for me. He also added a beautiful butterfly latch. I am going to move what little I have of my nine miscarried/stillborn babies' belongings into that box if the Lord gives me the strength to do it. I have not looked upon the tiny clothes and hospital items since I packed them away shortly after their deaths. I do not know if I should unpack and move these things in private or share the moment with my family. I'll seek the Lord and trust Him to lead me.
Here I am, still leaning on the everlasting arms to get through something I never thought I'd survive in the first place. There's a type of beauty in that. I'm still needing Him for this tender spot, and He's still there holding me up when these hard moments come. Even still today.
Dear Reader: Some life events so deeply wound us we feel pain for the rest of our days. We do not one day suddenly wake up and find ourselves "over it." It is more accurate to say we grow stronger and learn how to carry the pain better. That's not the sum of it, but it is closer to the truth. I am not sitting around moping. I am up and living. I take in the joys that come, but I have not forgotten my babies. I miss them still today. I look forward to the reality of eternity.
The tears I shed will one day be wiped away by my Savior. I do not claim to know what God plans for mothers like me. I do know it will be perfect, complete, and better than anything I could imagine.
If your child died in the womb or after birth, I am praying for your peace and comfort today.
You were born silent.
Perfect and beautiful.
Perfect and beautiful.
Still loved.
Still missed.
Still missed.
Still remembered.
Every day.
Stillborn.
But still born.
