I'm sitting on the couch next to one of your brothers, watching "Arthur." I'm thinking of you today for so many reasons.
In the past week, I've become aware that a colleague from LeTourneau lost his wife to cancer in her sixth month of pregnancy with their fourth child (all aged five and under). While lots of people came alongside the Manley family and prayed - I'm convinced - without ceasing, God still decided Elizabeth's time on this Earth was done.
And her family knows she's in a better place. But the fact remains that her husband is now a widower, her children motherless, her parents one daughter less, her siblings minus one.
In this same week, I've also learned about the death of a sweet baby girl born as a twin to a fellow MOPS mom. I just spoke to this mom a few weeks ago, asking when she was due, if she knew the sexes of the babies. She sweetly smiled and answered my questions, never mentioning that one of her babies had trisomy 18 and wasn't expected to live long outside the womb. Her memorial service was yesterday. I wasn't able to go due to Mommy obligations and chronic lack of sitter, but since I'm not close to her, I might have chosen to keep my distance even if I'd had the opportunity to go. I think I'll write her a card, and I'll certainly keep her in my prayers, but the last thing she needs right now is strangers trying to be all up in her grill.
Love, I wonder why you died so soon after you were conceived. Did you have a fatal genetic abnormality? Was losing you so few weeks into my pregnancy an act of the grace of God? Would it have been more or less heartbreaking to carry you to term, only to gaze into your face for only a few hours before having to give you back to God? I don't know, Orison. I don't find myself living in anger over losing you any more, but questions linger in my mind. How could our story have been written differently? Were you the girl I've wanted? Would your continued presence in my womb have possibly put us both in danger of dying?
I'm not sure I'll ever know the answers. But I know I'm your mother, no less so than I am the mother of your brothers, sweet bundles of mischief that they are. And as Mother's Day approaches, you are on my mind, sweet Orison, the first of my three children. I love you, and I look forward to holding you in my arms one day.
All my love, Mommy
5 comments:
It has been over 9 years since I miscarried with our first. I often think of him/her (although I believe him). How would our life have been different? Would the ones I have now come along later. But I rest in the peace that he is loved by the One who loves him better than I and I would not have wanted to miss out on the two stinkers I have now. You never forget...never. the wound heals and leaves a scar.
Just when I think I'm done crying...sniff...the world is blessed by such incredible mothers as you are and Elizabeth was.
love, love.
It's been almost 6 years for us, but we wouldn't have Makala if things did not work out the way they did. And I'm sure I would have been a horrible mom because I wasn't happy that I was pregnant. I was in a different mode in my life, but after loosing he/she I evaluated my life where changes followed. God knew what he was doing.
Querida, that was beautiful. And having lost 4 of my own I totally understand your questions. The grieving that we go through only to come to rest in God's arms and trust that He knew what He was doing all along. Thank you for sharing!
This was beautiful, Q. I'm not sure there's ever a real reason for death other than the fact that we live in a broken world in broken bodies... But I believe with my whole heart that Jesus will make all things new one day, will put everything right, and I know that your sweet little Orison is going love meeting you.
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