Losing baby

This was written by my friend Cara. After three routine pregnancies/births, she lost baby #4 unexpectedly in her second trimester. 

March 23, 2022. 

It’s here. 

Today is the day. The day we were going to meet you. The day I was going to hold you in my arms. 

The day when Mommy would tell you that you were a surprise to us, but how quickly you became such a part of our family that we couldn’t imagine our family without you. I would tell you how I had already been planning how to rearrange bedrooms. How I told someone they couldn’t ride with us because I had already mentally put you in that seat in the van. How I had started saving clothes until I could find out if you were a boy or a girl. How I had told your big sister that you were coming, and how she jumped up and down with joy. 

But you’re not here, and you’re not coming. 

I want you to know that we miss you every day. It catches me off guard, sometimes, how I’ll be holding one child and sitting next to two others, and yet I turn around looking for you. How I sometimes tell your brother to be quiet before a lump catches in my throat, and I can’t finish what I just realized isn’t true: that you’re asleep in the other room. And how sometimes, at the greatest depths of my grief, I am jealous that you got to meet Jesus face-to-face before I did. How I feel a void without you here, but that I know I grieve only for us. You got to skip all the bruised knees, bloody noses, and a worldwide pandemic. You didn’t face rejection or feel heartache or loss. You fast-fowarded to the good part. You’ve only ever known love.

But I also want you to know, baby, that you've made Mommy a better person. You’ve made me hug my three tighter, be more patient, be more grateful. Because of you, I now understand to a small degree how hard it was for God to send Jesus for us.  Because of you, I understand the Gospel more fully now than I ever did. 

So thank you, little one, for existing. Thabj you for giving us 15 weeks with you. Thank you for reminding me not to let this short life pass me by. 

Today, I weep because you’re not coming. Today, I worship, because Jesus did come.  He is here with me, and He is there with you, holding us both.