It hit me with a jolt as I made my coffee this morning. What day is it? Is it possible I would forget? A sigh of relief; it's the 15th. Tomorrow. It's tomorrow.
I will never forget.
The sense that my belly had stopped growing larger. The blood that met me in the bathroom. The back pain I didn't want to believe was labor. The water that broke. The drive to the hospital. The image on the sonogram. Lying completely still, his perfect spinal column facing us. There was our boy and there was no life present. Our hearts shattered.
9 years ago tomorrow, we met, we named, we held and we said goodbye. Is it a birthday when no life was found? I went through the birth process, with it's pain and blood and pushing and tears, but I did not bring forth life. We held the shell of our son and we marveled over his physical form. 10 tiny fingers, 10 tiny toes. So small, yet so complete. I looked at his nose and felt it was mine. The nurses wrapped him with care. So small he would be lost in the vast size of the receiving blanket. So fragile it seemed he could be ripped apart with the slightest touch. I swallowed my fear and took the small hand that was covering his face.
So small, so perfect, but not present.
January 16, 2006 changed me forever. There are times I see good that has come from our loss, but today in my grief I don't care. I want him here. I wonder over where he is now. Is he happy? Is he safe? Does he exist at all? The simple answer is that I do not know; it is impossible for me to know. I trust in God's love. The Love that knew him in the secret place and the Love that holds him now.
I pray it will hold this grieving mama's heart today.