writing heals....I think.

And now the real reason for my blogging.  Even as I write I wonder if I will be able to complete it. 

These past two week have been the most terrible two weeks of my life.  Now, I get that there are worst tragedies than what I went through-I think of losing a spouse, a child in a car accident, etc.  But I don't want to compare tragedies.

This has been quite horrific.  I do not believe that anyone will truly understand the pain, hurt, grief of having a miscarriage unless you have one.  I have always been sad, compassionate, empathetic, and kind as best as I could when hearing that a friend had a miscarriage.  But, I didn't know. I JUST didn't know.  Until now.  The loss runs deep, very deep.

Having a miscarriage is losing a child, a baby.  A baby you never saw, held, kissed, cuddled, or changed.  This is bitter sweet in a way.  Not seeing or holding this baby makes it maybe a little easier on the grief, but not seeing or holding this baby makes it even harder on the grief.

It is a life, a tiny helpless life, gone without anything I could do.   I never got to hold him, I never got to see if he had dark hair and brown eyes like his daddy, I never got to kiss him or hear him cry.  But he was mine.  He was my baby.  Even though he was still the size of a kidney bean and still looked like an alien, he was a baby, A BABY! 

My sweet baby.  I still loved him, I still was preparing for him, I still was thinking about him, naming him, picturing life with him.  Even in those four short weeks of knowing he was growing in my body, I fell in love with him.

But, he died, dead.  My baby is dead.  He will never sleep in the hand me down crib that all his siblings slept in, he will never wear their clothes or see their faces.  He will never play with them, hear them fight or watch them run around.  He will not eat dinner with us, not pray with us, or sit at my homeschool table.  He will never feel mommy and daddy's lips on his sweet, sweet head.  He will never see our smile or hear our voice.  He will never be rocked in our arms or fed at my breast.  He is my baby, I love him, I miss him, and that pain is such torment at times I can barely stand it. 

The Hope:  Although he never stepped foot on this earth, he is walking and running.  Although he never played with his siblings, he is jumping for joy.  Although he never heard our voice, he is hearing angles sing.  Although I never got to hear him cry, I know he will never shed a tear.  He never knew sin, hunger, pain or sadness, He only knows joy, laughter, and the awesome feeling of God's presence.  He was never mine, He is forever God's.