I remember

This week brought the three year mark of the loss of our unborn child. I still vividly remember the days that crawled by as our little one was living out it's last hours on earth. Those hours were passed in the well regulated comfort of my womb and I take comfort in knowing that although our baby's life was short, it was well loved and much wanted.

I can't say I'm writing this out of any lofty goal. I have no point to make. No Scripture to study. I simply want to remember the child that has forever marked my heart.

The anniversary day of our child's passing came and went with no fanfare, no acknowledgement of what the day was. Life in our house went on as usual. I was busy, my husband was busy. We did not celebrate the life of our child this year, nor did we mourn the loss of it. The day simply came and went.

I found myself regretting that but by then it was one day too late to change it. And now I find myself kind of glad the day passed the way it did. Our little one lives in my heart every single day, as do the other babies we lost. I think of him/her often. March 19 is a special day because it belongs to the baby that I never got to hold except in death.

I still recall in vivid detail holding that tiny baby in my hand. I can still see the way it looked. I can feel the sticky, weightlessness of it. And most importantly, I recall the horrible heartache that came from knowing my child had lived all the days it was to have on this earth.

I still wonder what it might have looked like. Yes, I know, Scripturally, it looked like what the Lord intended it too because He did not give it enough time on earth to grow hair or have an eye color. But my very human, mother's heart, still wonders. Would it have had my husband's hair? Would it have gotten my skin tone? Would it have my husbands ears and nose? My toes? Curls or straight hair? Long lashes or short?

My baby would have turned two in November. By now it would have been a walking, running, chattering toddler. Filling my days with laughter and love and keeping me on my toes.

Instead it lives only in my heart and memory...and in the hearts and memories of those who loved it. I'd still give almost anything for the chance to hold that baby just one time. Still ache at the loss of the child I never got to know. Still sometimes cry tears of love for the baby that never snuggled in my arms, smiled at me, or held my finger. So many things we never shared. So much loss in the death of my unborn baby.

And so I write this, not to study Scripture, not to learn or explain, but to remember.

I remember my joy and excitement at finding out that little baby lived inside me. I recall discovering we were too have another child so early in the morning that after sharing the wonderful news with my husband I went back to bed but I was too excited to sleep. Thoughts of a new baby filled my mind and love swelled my heart. Just that quickly, my life was changed forever. The knowledge that we were expecting was all it took for me to love deeply and to anticipate the life the Lord had given us.

And anticipate it I did.

I bought clothes and blankets. We discussed names. I even started crocheting a little blanket. With every stitch I made, I thought of the baby I would one day wrap within it. I prayed for the child I carried. I dreamed. I...enjoyed the knowledge of that child living within me.

I sat with my hand cradling my still flat stomach. I remarried my husband with the knowledge that our child was growing within me. I deliberately did not wear shoes during the ceremony so that I could get married barefoot and pregnant. It was my own little secret. My husband even asked me if I was going to put shoes on for our wedding and I just told him no. I did not explain my reasons for not wearing shoes. But it made me happy to be getting married while barefoot and pregnant.

Oddly enough, that had been a dream of mine, to get married while barefoot and pregnant. I had long since given up that dream, knowing that I would have to be married before I would be pregnant but then the Lord worked things out so that I could realize that dream. I was married before I got pregnant. And then I got married again while pregnant.

And I shared that dream with the tiny baby that made it possible.

Oh, and I shared it with my husband too.:p It was a wonderful day. A happy day. And it took place just one short week before it all came crashing to an end.

I went through my days blissfully unaware of what was to come, not suspecting for a moment that our child was in the process of living out its final days on earth.

I shared the joy of our soon to be little one with people that did not know. Agreed to let friends hold a baby shower for me, with tentative plans in place for several months away. I shopped for tiny little clothes.

I loved that little baby with everything in me.

Then came the warning signs of loss. Warning signs that were followed all too quickly by total loss. And just like that...

It was over.

I held a super tiny baby in the palm of my hand and I cried like I had never cried before. I hurt. I ached. I curled up in a ball, cradling my no longer living baby, and I cried and cried. I held that baby until it wasn't feasible to do so anymore and then I refused to wash the signs of its life and loss off my hands. It was grief, I know that now, but at the time it was a connection to the child I no longer carried within me. And I just couldn't give up that final connection.

I hadn't been ready for the abrupt ending of the life that had lived so very briefly in my womb. For all too short a time I had been not I, but we. Pregnancy made me not one person but two people in one. That baby lived inside of me, as part of me.

Normally, that process lasts nine months and by the time it comes to an end, the mama is so uncomfortable and hormones have kicked in to prepare her mind and body to give up the condition of being two in one. I only had seven short weeks. And I had almost no warning it was ending. And once it was over there was no baby to marvel over, no tiny little one to fill my heart and hours. There was only loss. So much loss and heartache.

Now, I remember that baby with a smile. Most of the time anyway. The pain is still there, so is the loss, but there is also joy in just knowing I was given the chance to know and love that tiny little soul. And love it I did. I do.

I still have that partially made blanket. I came across it just the other day as I was doing a deep cleaning and purging of my home. I did the same thing I have done every time I see it since the day I lost our child...I thought 'Oh, Baby' (except our baby has a name, a name I am choosing to keep out of this post) and I gently caressed that partially made blanket. I told myself I should part with it but instead of listening, I folded it up and packed it away again. It is a reminder of the child I do not have.

I also do not have pictures, hand or foot prints, a beloved teddy bear, or a grave to visit. I have a partially made blanket, a few little things bought for a child that never was and a little secret I will not divulge, and that's all that's left of what my mother's heart says 'should have been'.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

He gave us that little soul and then He took it away again. I still ache for the loss of the baby I never got to keep. I am crying as I write this. But I smile at the memory of the gift of sharing in our baby's all too short life. I am grateful the Lord allowed us the few short weeks we had. I would love to have had more. How my arms ache to hold the toddler that baby should be by now. There is emptiness in my home where toys and clothes should be. There is no one snuggled next to me where the little one should rest as I read a story. I have no silky hair to brush. No teeth to clean. No messes to pick up. No toddler to chase after and treasure. Instead, I treasure memories and a few small things that are all I have left of the child I was blessed to have for an all too brief span of time.

And today...

I remember.