This Mother's Lesson On Loss, Hope and Understanding

 

There is a poem I found many years ago when I lost my first child. At that difficult time, I was struggling with it as well as the fact that everyone around me now seemed to be expecting. In seeking out some sort of reasoning as to why I was left without that precious bundle of joy, I came across a poem. I don't know why but it offered me great comfort and hope. I think it was due to the fact that it talked about a special child being made one day just for me. And, it goes as follows:

BABY

~ George McDonald (1824-1905)

Where did you come from Baby dear?

Out of the everywhere into the here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?

Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?

Some of the starry twinkle left in.

Where did you get that little tear?

I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?

A soft hand stroked it as I went by. (Yes grandma, I know that was you.)

What makes your cheek like a warm pink rose?

I saw something better than anyone knows.

Whence that three cornered smile of bliss?

Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?

God spoke and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and bands?

Love made itself into arms and hands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you?

God thought about me and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?

God thought about you and so I am here.

I know now years later that finding this poem was the best thing for me. Every time I felt that grief rising up in me, I would go pull out that poem and look at it, and reread it. And let me tell you that over the period of the next few years, that piece of paper was folded, unfolded so many times that it became quite worn looking. But, I didn't mind. All I knew was it eased that ache there.

It was when I least expected it that I got the news that I was indeed expecting again. I remember that in each trimester I prayed that God would allow me to see, hold, touch and raise that wee, precious baby that I had tucked away inside. I feared that history would again repeat itself. Therefore, I took no chances on anything. I was faithful about keeping appointments, eating right, taking my prenatal and B-6 vitamins. I was good about getting enough rest and sleep even in spite of all the times I felt horrible. And, my doctor kept reassuring me that I would bring this one into the world.

In the last few months of that pregnancy, the nesting urge took hold of me. I carefully put together that precious bundle of joy's room. I set up and made up the crib, bought all the necessary stuff (diapers, wipes, etc), and hung the tiny outfits in the closet.This time I hoped that I would actually get to see my child wear some of the outfits. But still, the room seemed to be missing something. And, that strange idea kept haunting me.

My due date came and went. And, still no baby had arrived. I was miserable, anxious and so very much ready for my baby to make it's first appearance into this world. I paced restlessly in my miserable state. I paced so much I can't even tell you how many times I went in and looked at that room and crib. But again, something kept needling me in the back of my mind that something was still missing.

It happened that as I was going through my dresser to organize it that I again came across that wrinkled, over folded piece of paper. I unfolded it and read the words again. And then right there, right at that very second, I knew what was missing from my baby's room. What it was that was keeping my baby's room from being perfect. And so on that same day, I went out and bought the things necessary to make it.

And over the course of the next week and a half, I waited and stitched. Waited and stitched. Mom made fun of me and chided me on how I had never had the patience to cross stitch before. How I'd never been able to sit still long enough when she had wanted me to master my stitches. She even teased me about what would happen if the baby came right then and I didn't have it finished? I told her to never underestimate a woman with a determined mind. That if I had to finish it while in labor, I would. And then, I went back to placing my loving stitches upon that large piece. Carefully, I labored over it just as if I was in labor itself. I was determined it would be perfect. Every letter had to be so so, every word spelled correctly.

And then, the day dawned when I finished it. I took it in and had a matting and framing place finish it off all in the matter of the same day. I brought it home, placed it over my baby's crib. And it was then that finally, everything seemed perfectly in order. What that room had been missing was my own personal touch of a mother's love for her child.

A few days later, the pains started and I spent many uncomfortable hours trying to bring that baby into this world. And when after many hours I finally got to hold that bundle of joy, I felt peace, contentment and great love. I never expected to feel such love, protectiveness before over someone I'd just met. But, I did. And before I ever left the hospital, I promised myself that I would attempt to be the very best mother that I could be. I promised myself that I would take it as very serious business. And so, I took that darling baby home.

While many years have passed since I brought each and every one of my babies home, pink and perfect, I know many others haven't been as fortunate. I count myself thankful that God gave me that opportunity to be one. I am truly blessed in more ways than I can even begin to express here. And while I don't talk about them much here, they are the very thing that I live and breathe for. They are, indeed, the light of my life.

But I would like everyone to know that while I have these ones, I have never forgotten my first one. I have never forgotten the pain of not being able to hold, cuddle, and grow to see the uniqueness of that one first hand. I still feel so very cheated at times. But, I will always be grateful for what it awakened in me, for the first few flutters I felt of it inside. And, I look forward to the day when we can be in heaven together.There, I know I will get the opportunity to show and express all those things that I never got to show that sweet baby here.

And it's funny now years later that each time I find that worn, folded copy in my Bible, that it's meaning continually changes to me. What that poem once meant to me still holds true. But, it also means more to me than that now. It's more than a grief coping tool. It's far more than a means to get in touch with all those feelings from way back then. It's more than a reminder tool so I will never forget that sweet baby of mine that I never got to hold. It's a rich lesson about life. The lesson that motherhood is a privilege. A privilege to be had - not a right guaranteed. Life is indeed a precious gift. A gift to be treasured and not taken for granted. It's also a reminder that with time, the things that once pained us greatly can become more tolerable, easier to accept. So in short, what that poem meant to me at one time then and what it means to me now has evolved, changed into something far deeper than what I could have ever imagined when I first stumbled upon it. And I think too, I'm far more richer for having found it as it's made me realize and better able to appreciate what a truly, extraordinary gift the children I've been blessed with are.