We found out two weeks ago that I am pregnant with what technically is our sixth child; a huge surprise but also a joyous one. We waited to tell my family until we saw them on Thanksgiving. I made a shirt for my youngest to wear that said "Big Sister 2011" with stick figures of all the kids and a baby carriage, and we made a game of seeing who would notice it first. Everyone was so happy, and despite my misgivings and anxiety over another child to care for so soon, I truly was a happy mama.
New life inside me always brings so much with it. There's always a slight fear- how will I stretch myself even more to meet the emotional, mental and physical needs of one more child? And the worry- how will we pay for this birth? But canceling out those feelings of weakness and vulnerability are the ones that say babies are a blessing, no matter the circumstance. One more baby I have allowed the Lord to bless me with is one more soul I am in charge of to raise for His purposes, one more child who will teach me about love. This child is a gift.
But as I sit here writing this I am experiencing the end of a miscarriage that began the day after Thanksgiving. I am still in shock and still grieving. It hasn't yet been a week. This one is different in that I am aware of it, I'm experiencing it knowing full well exactly what's going on and that this baby no longer is living inside of me. I'm trying so hard to process it and yet I find myself unable to grasp the right reasoning, the right statement, the one that fits exactly what I need to ease this pain, to sooth the ache I feel inside every time I think about the fact that there should be another baby.
It's so difficult.
My sister in law recently shared a sentiment with me about her set of twins which she miscarried early in her marriage to my brother. It was in reference to a baby-feet tattoo she got in memory of them, with a purple rose in memory of my grandmother (her favorite color was purple). She believes my grandma is up in heaven bouncing those babies on her knee. My grandmother was not very lucid or healthy when we grandchildren started having our babies so she never really got a chance to enjoy her great grandchildren before she died. I'd like to think as well that maybe my babies who I have lost are being bounced on their great-grandmother's knee as they sit in God's amazing presence experiencing a love I could have never come close to giving them.
A friend sent me a prayer that Mother Angelica wrote for women who have miscarriages. I think it could actually be used for anyone who has lost a child in any stage of life, and it is an encouraging set of words. It does give me some peace as I go through this experience, as I have been telling myself since the first positive pregnancy test I ever had that babies are here for God's purposes; they are His children, not mine. It does not matter at what stage of their life He decides to take them home to Him. I may never see the reasoning for this baby's short life, a tiny soul hidden in the secret darkness of my womb only for a few short weeks. I do know that her existence already began to stretch me in ways I wasn't sure it could, and maybe that was the only thing she was created for...to help me to remember that there's always room for more love to be shared.