Feb
4
2015
Selective Amnesia
Posted in Motherhood 4 Comments
It is always during the first month of the year I remember.
I remember that night twenty-seven years ago.
A cold winter night that was supposed to be like any other.
Except it wasn’t.
I had two little girls, active toddlers who were tired of being cooped up inside.
There were books to read and blanket forts to make.
There were endless, imaginary kitchen concoctions to feast on.
There was an air of playfulness that was expected but not felt.
Something was wrong.
I had been pregnant twice before.
I knew the way it was supposed to feel.
This pregnancy was different.
I had morning sickness every morning for three months with my daughters.
Morning sickness that ended as abruptly as it began.
Morning sickness that ended with a new found energy that was missing the first trimester.
Except this time there was nothing.
Maybe this one is your boy, someone said as they feigned wisdom.
Don’t complain; just enjoy it, more unsolicited advice.
Every pregnancy is different.
You worry too much.
But I knew.
There were signs.
I was sure that I was losing my baby.
So I waited.
I played with my little girls when all I wanted to do was cry.
I smiled even though my heart hurt.
I kept watching out the window to see when my husband would turn into the driveway.
The few car lights I saw on our street did not belong to him.
I wanted to melt into a puddle of tears as soon as I saw him.
But the girls.
My little girls were watching.
I didn’t officially know that I lost my baby.
But I knew.
Mothers know.
Three more children would come in the next seven years.
Five joys, five gifts from God’s hands.
Yet every winter, I remember.
Every winter, I wonder what he or she would have been like.
I was a mother to that little baby for a short time.
Whether I carried that precious baby one day or nine months, I was still a mother.
I was a mother six times.
Being a mother does not have anything to do with location.
A mother knows the child she carries.
She knows when they will be most active and when they will get hiccups.
She knows that her voice is heard as she speaks and as she sings.
The baby hears the soothing sound of her voice as he or she grows inside her.
It is not that a mother sees the glass half empty, but a mother remembers.
She remembers the child she carried but never knew.
She remembers the time she lost her temper.
She remembers the time she was too busy.
A mother remembers.
Being a mother begins at the moment of conception.
She is a mother from the very start.
Her baby is as real to her as her own breath.
The location of that precious baby is not a determinant of motherhood.
As soon as that little one is conceived, everything that child will be is in place.
Hair color, eye color, whether a boy or a girl, are already set in place by the Creator.
The little baby is as much a part of the mother as her own breath.
Her own breath.
The same breath that was breathed into her by a loving Creator God.
The same breath that she longs to hear nine months later with her baby’s first cry.
God-given breath.
And only God can take that breath away.
I asked, why during that cold winter.
Why, God? Why now?
What could I have done to prevent this?
Nothing.
Life is not in my hands.
Life is in His hands.
Life is always in His hands.
We forget that truth.
Whenever a baby’s life is snuffed out inside the mother’s womb, we have forgotten.
Whenever someone is gunned down for no reason at all, we have forgotten.
When the elderly are inconvenient and their death is deemed merciful, we have forgotten.
We have selective amnesia when it comes to matters of life.
God doesn’t forget.
He is the Giver of Life.
I still do not understand why I lost that precious little baby all those years ago.
But I trust Him.
God holds life and death in His Hands.
That is where they belong.
Life is sacred and we forget.
We forget much too often.
Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born I set you apart.
(Jeremiah 1:5)
God formed.
God knew.
God set apart.
God breathed.
The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. (Genesis 2:7)
We are God-breathed into existence.
God’s breath is in us.
We are made in His image.
We forget that truth.
Every life is precious.
Every life needs to be protected.
You can tell a lot about a person or a nation by their view of life.
We often forget that truth and live as though it doesn’t matter.
It does matter.
Life matters.
Life matters to God.
We forget that truth.
This time of year makes me remember too… My first baby, whom I never met, is in heaven with Jesus. On Christmas, 2006 I announced to my immediate family that I was pregnant. It was a little early in my pregnancy to tell everyone, but Seth and I were so excited and we had been holding it in for over a month and were about to explode. I was also puking, so there was that to explain… I remember the day we found out, just after Thanksgiving. Seth and I were beaming with excitement. My heart was overflowing with joy and love for this little person growing in me. Sadly, on January 12, 2007, I went in for an ultrasound and learned that my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. I was completely devastated. I was still nauseous, still throwing up daily, so how could this be? Seth looked at me and didn’t understand what the doctor was saying. They sent me back to my OB. On the car ride Seth said, “maybe everything is okay. Maybe you are wrong about what you think they said.” He didn’t want to hear the news. Later he told me he couldn’t process it, and was confused. So he got defensive and tried to hope for the best. It was heart breaking. It crushed me. Going in for surgery, I felt like they were ripping out a piece a heart. That is exactly what they did.
Thankfully, The Lord blessed us with 3 more pregnancies and 3 beautiful boys. I love them dearly. We are blessed and I am thankful for them every single day. Ever year after the Christmas rush settles down and the ornaments are put away… the date comes close and I remember. I remember my loss. My baby in heaven.
Women struggle to talk about this topic. Sadly, our culture promotes killing babies for convenience, which gives our little loved ones even less of a voice. Thankfully, the LORD knows them. We knew them. The Lord keeps them. We remember them.
Thank you Gina for posting this. It is good to share about our littlest loves that we will one day meet in heaven.
Kristin,
Thank you for your transparency and honesty. We mothers share a bond that is beyond words. Birth stories and stories of loss knit us together. When we have the Lord in common, the bond is that much stronger. We have the pain of loss so we can help another mother go through her pain of loss. We have the joy of childbirth so we can help another mother understand the worth and the value of motherhood. We need to talk more, share more, and love more as mothers. We need HIS help to do this most important work that He has called us to do. You are doing a great job with your boys. Enjoy this precious time with them.
Gina
Thanks for sharing! … Yes, mother’s know and remember! (it’ll be 20 years on February 9th that our 2nd child was due!) and I also don’t forget Andrew’s twin who never got past 9 weeks!).
I never thought we’d have any of precious children and am thankful for the three of them … my blessings, but I always wonder about the other two and can’t wait to meet them …
Erica,
We mothers are kindred spirits. We share the joy of motherhood and we share the pain of loss. We need each other desperately. We need the Lord even more.
Gina