It's a bit late for talking about Mother's Day but I wanted to talk about it anyhow.
You see, having a miscarriage changes the way you view Mother's Day forever.
Even with two fresh-faced hobbits hugging my knees and a husband who blesses and cherishes me every other day of the year there is still that small shadow that quietly follows me in the corner of my mind. Wrapped in warm light and just beyond my reach is the memory of the little life I cradled in my womb for a few short weeks before they quietly slipped into the arms of God-for reasons I will never understand. My heart no longer feels angry (unless I allow myself to dwell on it too much)...but sometimes in the quiet moments, when I listen to a lullaby album, or bury my nose in my daughter's soft brown downy hair as she snuggles into me fast asleep...or laugh at the twinkling in my son's eyes as he says "I love you too, Mommy"...or the kind and faraway look in my husband's eyes when we catch each others' gaze-knowing what the other is thinking...I see them...feel how it might've been. The remains that I hurriedly flushed down the toilet after holding for just a few measly seconds...for fear of the kids seeing as they were getting into their bath or the husband who could barely hold on because of his grief. I still regret doing that, but I couldn't think at that point in time-I could only do. Sorry I know that's graphic for some of you, but I need to be honest about it.
Because Mother's Day made it obvious that my "due date" had slipped by quietly. I thought I had it all together...had processed through it (after all, I'd really had alot of heart-healing happen when I got to doula a friend of mine's birth who was due within days of me).
So Sunday night came around and after service another of my friends due within days of me (literally gave birth 2 days after my other friend!) came up to me, bearing a small brown envelope and three red gerber daisies.
I fell apart in her arms. I whispered "thank you" repeatedly...that this woman who'd just given birth to her second blessing had thought to honor the three children I carried, two of which were with us, was exactly what my heart needed. After struggling to get through service and thanking God over and over for the life, the blessings, the church I am apart of, the friendships I am enriched in...this woman gave me three daisies and said "I have not forgotten...What you went through was real...Your child was real...Your pain and healing is real...and the Lord is still good." May God grant this friend (you know who you are) and her family abundant blessings as they so easily pour their hearts and lives out to others, including me.
"Gracious words are like honeycomb; sweet to the soul and healing to the body."