Remembering...
December is no longer just a time of celebration and song for me.
For three years now, it has also been a time when a shadow falls across my heart...
And I remember.
I remember losing the baby I would never know or name or love more than in thought.
I remember it's older sibling gone before.
I remember the ache of an empty womb only so recently full of dreams.
Miscarriage is no respecter of persons or dates on the calendar. In that December three years ago, I was the mother of two, had already experienced one miscarriage between my healthy pregnancies, and was hoping, praying for life for the child I carried.
It was not to be.
On Christmas Eve my suspicions were confirmed. All was not well, and my child would not know life on this side of Heaven. I opened a brand-new manger scene from Wesley and watched the children unwrap packages while the knowledge settled in, bitter and consuming.
Our sorrow was not in-season. It was not in-tune with the joyous Christmas songs playing around us. It did not sit easily in front of the sparkling firelight and find warmth there.
Christmas was on a Sunday that year, and it would have been Elasa's first time in Sunday School since she had turned four only days before. Instead, we all stayed home from church as the evidence of that silent little life seeped away.
So unknown. And yet so loved.
Boy or girl? Another red-head? What would the name have been?
We would never know.
The sting of a second miscarriage left another permanent insignia on my heart. I had conceived a child, but given birth in blood and tears to a soul on wings.
"You were here on the timeline called life for so short a time, but you mattered to me, little one...you mattered to me."
Where was a place of comfort to be found?
Not at the side of the manger, for I peered in and found it empty.
Further inspection takes me down a winding path, through a valley and up a hill...into the presence of a King.
The One who is a Man of Sorrows and Acquainted with Grief.
The Gentle Shepherd.
And look!
He is holding something in His arms.
My children.
This Christmas I bring a special gift to those children of mine...
The gift of remembering.
For three years now, it has also been a time when a shadow falls across my heart...
And I remember.
I remember losing the baby I would never know or name or love more than in thought.
I remember it's older sibling gone before.
I remember the ache of an empty womb only so recently full of dreams.
Miscarriage is no respecter of persons or dates on the calendar. In that December three years ago, I was the mother of two, had already experienced one miscarriage between my healthy pregnancies, and was hoping, praying for life for the child I carried.
It was not to be.
On Christmas Eve my suspicions were confirmed. All was not well, and my child would not know life on this side of Heaven. I opened a brand-new manger scene from Wesley and watched the children unwrap packages while the knowledge settled in, bitter and consuming.
Our sorrow was not in-season. It was not in-tune with the joyous Christmas songs playing around us. It did not sit easily in front of the sparkling firelight and find warmth there.
Christmas was on a Sunday that year, and it would have been Elasa's first time in Sunday School since she had turned four only days before. Instead, we all stayed home from church as the evidence of that silent little life seeped away.
So unknown. And yet so loved.
Boy or girl? Another red-head? What would the name have been?
We would never know.
The sting of a second miscarriage left another permanent insignia on my heart. I had conceived a child, but given birth in blood and tears to a soul on wings.
"You were here on the timeline called life for so short a time, but you mattered to me, little one...you mattered to me."
Where was a place of comfort to be found?
Not at the side of the manger, for I peered in and found it empty.
Further inspection takes me down a winding path, through a valley and up a hill...into the presence of a King.
The One who is a Man of Sorrows and Acquainted with Grief.
The Gentle Shepherd.
And look!
He is holding something in His arms.
My children.
This Christmas I bring a special gift to those children of mine...
The gift of remembering.
Beautiful! I also went through this valley in December 5 years ago. Mother-love is so amazing; to be attached to a life given and so quickly taken gives a small glimpse of how much God loves us!
ReplyDeleteHow well I know the aching loss of losing a baby...... hugs!
ReplyDeleteWhile I've never lost a baby over Christmas, I have found the baby-centric celebration surrounding the holiday to be a (sometimes painful) reminder of the infants I never held. Thanks for this beautiful tribute. I especially like the thought of the empty manger, because He is no longer a baby. He is our King, and He holds our children--and us--for eternity.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely remembrance of your child. I too remember my dear baby at special family times of the year. Even when my arms are full I remember the one I never held. Thanks for turning our eyes onto our Lord.
ReplyDeleteGina