The following is my journal entry from September 2006.
How many times had I sat in that 4×4 room? Three minutes that took an eternity each time, heart beating faster, emotions a roller coaster. Three minutes. And then fear, joy, and disbelief all together. Two lines. The unexpected answer to the question I had been asking. We went to the beach you and I, you so small in your beginnings, I had you to myself-no one else could know. We talked you and I, as the soft breeze touched my face and the sun gently caressed the waves that endlessly swept the sand. I remember the sand. So warm and soft, molding gently around me as I sat reflecting on the miracle of life. Would you be a boy or a girl? Blonde or dark haired? Blue eyes or brown? Would you like horses like me, or go tearing around on a motorcycle taking my breath away? The possibilities of you filled my heart and I was content to wait the many months until I would meet you…But I didn’t get to meet you my precious one. Your tiny toes and fingers, button nose and beautiful eyes, your mouth puckered in a bow. You stayed with me only 6 weeks. Somehow even before the test had confirmed it I knew you were there. And then you were gone. How can one say goodbye when you never said hello? My arms are so empty my love. What I would give just to count your toes. To feel your fingers curl around my finger. To brush my hand across the top of your head to feel the fuzz that would be your hair. My first child, my little one. Just a moment in time, but you are mine.
Again, I find myself in a little room, three minutes again an eternity. Two lines. More fear, still joy, but fear. I knew you were there too my little one, how it is I cannot tell. So small that you would be hard to spot even if we had done an ultrasound. Six weeks passed, my hope increased. I had just decided that you were here to stay when you left at week eight. You did not leave quietly. Oh how I wish I could have watched you grow. Even in your passing you showed your personality. You would not slip out quietly. Physical pain equal to my emotional anguish would accompany our last day together. I wonder if you would have had red hair, and my temper to match? I miss the scent of you. What it would have been, just out of the tub. Soap clinging to your damp hair, and soft baby skin. Would you have been a doctor, a gymnast, a famous musician, or a quiet scholar? Did I say quiet? No, I don’t think you would have been quiet my child. My second dream.
It took a while before I was in that room again. This time in another state. Blood tests, and physical exams, normal and abnormal, theory’s and facts. You came to be before the verdict was in. Again, I somehow knew you were there. This time I was sure everything would go well. Science was on our side, I could do something to keep you. And if science failed, God could not, would not take my third child from me! But the doctor said the levels were low, inject this drug, swallow these pills. I prayed “God let me see my child”. Then there you were, like all the books said, the size of a grain of rice, so perfectly like the pictures on the internet, but not inside me where you should be. I could hold you my dear sweet child, but not in the way I wanted. How did I manage to hold your cousin in my arms? Born just before you were conceived. Would you have looked like him at all? Would you have grown up to be friends? Or would you have been a girl, and looked up to your other cousin, with her light curly hair and special smile? I keep you still, in my treasure box. The greatest treasure I will never know here. Someday maybe I can part with you beneath a lilac bush, but of my three you are the only one I can hold onto. The only one who left tangible proof of your existence.
I miss you all, my babies. Six weeks, eight weeks, and five weeks were not long enough to keep you with me. I miss you! I miss you! I miss you! God holds the perfect memory of you. My human heart cannot understand, but I trust. Someday, in some way, we will meet. I will hold you, and know you, and watch you grow. You will have the benefit of a perfect world to call your home. Walking and talking face to face with our creator. And my tears that are spilling now will be wiped away. And in that world, there will not be a word for loss. Will I remember all the pain in my heart? Or only feel the joy of knowing you? My three, my missing pieces to my heart. I love you my children. I miss you all.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. Revelation 21:4
The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. Isaiah 11:6