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They Mattered

I have lost five babies in the womb.

And not until recently have I understood the depths of sorrow that a miscarriage can bring to the heart.

In our society, we are pressured and pushed to think that life in the womb is not nearly as precious and cherished as life held in our physical arms.

I disagree.

The day we found out that a new life was conceived was easily the happiest day of my life.

I know not all stories are the same, but for me, it topped my first “I love you”, first kiss, and even my wedding day.

There’s something about conception that fills me with awe and wonder simply for the fact that we really have no control over it.

Sure, we know the mechanics of how conception works and we were very much a part of that decision, but when two cells become one and form another soul…well, that is all God.

I loved my child from the day I saw the plus sign.

I made plans for them.

I thought of who they would be and what they would do.

I couldn’t wait to meet them.

They were mine.  

But only for a short time.

Can we just call miscarriage what it is?

Loss.

And what do we experience with it?

Grief.

Far too many young mothers have been shamed for their grief and devastation only because they  had only known weeks, days, or hours of the miracle growing inside of them. How could they possible be so devastated over a life they never met?

I’ll answer that.

They did meet.

They met through prayers made in preparation of their creation.

They met in dreams for their future.

They met with each heartbeat, both mother and child, both in rhythm, and both steady and sure.

I assure you, they met.

How can you possibly measure the depth of  love? Does time dictate the scale? Does length of awareness measure the immensity of loss that happens?

Dear reader, never.

Christ’s love, the deepest, highest, and widest of all loves is the only rating chart we should compare our love to.

His grand love stretches out so that we cannot see one end or another. A loop, never-ending, continual.

Though I have not been able to love to the lengths that He has, I have been on the receiving end. It’s powerful, hopeful, and simply beautiful.

That is the love that I carried for my babies. All five that I lost and all three that I got to hold.

I see now that in this great sadness, this feeling of powerlessness, comes an amazing understanding that God has all along had things in His control.

My children, whom I never got to hold, were first held by the very arms of God.

What a grand entrance that is.

I’m sad for not being able to hold them. I’m sorrowful that I didn’t get to know who they would have grown to be or what they would have grown to do.

But I am reminded of a tree.

tree_mirror.jpg

Its roots are equal in size to the branches that we see on the surface. Large, broad, thick branches that shoot high into the skies are mimicked below the earth by life giving roots that go deep and run strong.

My sadness on the outside is only a beautiful symmetry of the great love within. It is broad, deep, and strong. It holds up the rest, feeding and nourishing me so that I can continue on.

Love is never a thing to be hid or ashamed of. Love is to be displayed, lifted up, and looked upon.

Let us remember this in times when perhaps we can’t understand another person’s grief. Instead of shaming or walking away, remember Christ on the cross. Though horrific to look upon, it was the greatest love there ever was. We dare not ignore that it existed. Instead, we celebrate the beautiful sacrifice of this love, just as we celebrate the love that was shared between a mother and her child, no matter how long or short the time on earth.

1 thought on “They Mattered”

  1. Wonderful explanation, and thanks for helping me to find words to someone who is grieving the loss of the baby they were carrying…it’s real, and we should understand that…it was a real love from the beginning to the end…

    Like

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