Sunday. It’s my favorite day of the week. I enjoy all the Sabbath has to offer. Prayer, community, rest. Often Kevin and I choose to do something special to mark the day for the both of us – a walk on the lake, visiting a new place, eating something special, watching a movie, having company over. Sunday.
I could easily spend this Sunday like all the others, celebrating the turn of the month and being just a bit more closer to spring.
But today is different.
Today was the projected day that I would have held a child in my arms for the first time. My child. Many women spend nine wonderful months in hopeful anticipation of their due date. I had that mentality for just a little while before it was taken away.
I had all the possible names written down – boy or girl (still an untouched, yet adored, list in my email drafts – where I keep random notes). I’m not sure if we would have opted to know the sex ahead of time. I like the idea of waiting, but have never been good with surprises.
I remember back when we were expecting thinking what it might be like to deliver a baby in the height of winter in northern Minnesota (although we weren’t set on leaving at that point). I mostly made jokes about how we’d be snowed in and end up doing a home birth.
Just as any type A planner would, I had completed my registry with all the natural & organic goodies – the bamboo swaddles, the organic sheets, the cloth diapers.
But none of it mattered. We never got that far.
I’ve tried to reflect this month on the emptiness that comes with passing a due date and nothing to show for it. Too many women deal with this time and time again.
And it’s a tragedy. It is sorrowful. It’s tear-inducing and hurtful.
But the most amazing thing of all is that there is healing. Healing that is unexplainable, but very real. Healing that is truly a gift. It is not a coincidence we named our child Giovanna Raphael: “gift of God that heals.”
While I can’t understand it, I know that I am in a good place. While my heart longs for children, I am also content. That contentment has days of sadness, but it’s still there.
So we continue on. We continue to hope and pray for what only God can give. I’m trying to do my part, but I shouldn’t be so naive as to think that it’s all on me. That’s a heavy weight. One I can’t carry.
In the meantime, I thank any of you who have offered prayers for our unborn child, the gift that I hope now rests in the presence of her Creator. And for the prayers for us as we figure things out and let them happen.
God is good and in that I firmly believe. My hope is in Him.