86 Days

Dear Autumn,

It’s been so long since I wrote you. In some ways I feel silly doing it because I know you won’t read it. In other ways, I cannot help myself. I talked to you while you were inside me and since I never “experienced” you out of me, this seems like such a natural thing to do.

A few days ago I held another baby for the first time since you died. He was so soft and cuddly. He smiled at me and let me kiss his soft cheeks and chubby hands. He talked to me in his own language and snuggled right into my shoulder. He was so precious that I couldn’t help but smile right back at him even as I wished for you.

But do you know what, sweetheart? It was good to hold him. It was good because I’ve been so afraid to hold another little one. Afraid to hold other people’s joy in my arms and have bitterness fill my heart. Afraid realize that you’ve been gone for 86 days – and that is only the start! I’ve been afraid that I’d break down with the realization that you won’t grow, or giggle, or fall asleep in my arms. I was saddened – but not overwhelmed. For this I thank God.

I ask the Lord daily to give us another child… but it is so hard to think of waiting for another baby when all I really want is you. Sometimes trusting that the Lord is good and wise and that He always does what is right feels like a monumental task. Making the transition between what my head knows and my heart feels is such a complicated and time-consuming activity. But it is profitable. Because of Jesus I can still smile at other people with babies. Because of Jesus I can love your daddy so much it hurts. Because of my trust in Jesus I still have hope – for this life and the one to come. Because of what Jesus has done in my heart I can feel other people’s pain, and grieve for more than just myself. I shudder to think of where I would be without His love and strength…

Tonight your daddy and I went on a date with some friends. It was a pretty good time and I was relaxed and content… but when we left the auditorium there was a couple with a baby girl in a car seat by the doors. The mom was kissing her daughter and smiling at her, and as I turned away, I thought, “Why Lord? Why can I not have that joy and happiness with my husband and child?” I’ve been out of sorts since then. But do you know what I keep thinking of? A little boy whose voice is quavering and heart is crushed encouraging anyone who had lost “a loved one or a pet’ to just ‘run to God because he understands’. So simple… so deep. So true.

When we got home I sat and looked at your pictures and wept. I wish I could hold you again. Just one more time! My heart breaks on nights like this when the reality of that loss feels so deep that I ache - physically ache - to touch and hold and kiss you. My own baby girl who kicked and squirmed and moved around inside of me – to finish what was started and give fulfillment to that hope that grew as my belly stretched.

Autumn – your death has caused me to run to Him like a lost little girl so many times in the past 86 days. I am scared to hope for another baby. Scared to ‘move on’ and yet at the same time scared that this period of my life will never pass!

I know I have access to the One who says that He will carry my burdens for me. Your loss is the heaviest burden that I have ever bourn… but I am reminded that it is a gift given by the Lord to suffer while being held by Him. A child who is babied and never challenged will not grow properly. I lift tear filled eyes to heaven some days and cry, “Could you not have grown me some other way? Why this? Why her?” and even as the words form in my mind I know that nothing else would have had such an impact on my life. When you died a very piece of my heart was laid to rest with you. This world where sin and death tarnish or destroy any good thing is not my permanent home. Before you died the words, “Come to me all you who are weak and heavy-laden and I will give you rest for your soul” was a nice quote from the bible… now they are my lifeline! That is your legacy, Autumn: you have made your mommy cry, “Jesus is enough!” and mean it.

I am humbled that God used me to give you life… and I know that your days were numbered as are mine. Your death was no more an accident than your creation. But tonight I’ll remember you full of life and energy inside me. I’ll cuddle up to your daddy, hold my tummy and replay the last time I felt you move. I’ll cry as quietly as I can for you and for me. It is just “one of those nights’ and the hurt is deep and real. But I rest in the One who chose this for me and for you. I can bring my sadness to Him and know He understands and is will hold me for as long as the grief lasts.

What comfort in knowing I will be held my whole life.

I love you.

Mommy