On your due date

 June 10,2021

Though you slay me

Yet I will praise you

Though you take from me 

I will bless your name 

Though you ruin me 

Still I will worship

Sing a song, to the One who’s all I need

Today is your “due date”, Hazel. Throughout my pregnancy, I imagined you coming on a sticky summer day like today. But instead of delivering you in a cool hospital room, I’m sweating on a Georgetown park bench, letting my feet wander to familiar places and letting my heart feel the layers of grief and sorrow and hope that are deep within.

I feel very loved today. So many people have reached out to say they are praying for us, that they love and miss you and can’t wait to meet you. But I needed to be alone today. Only I held you. Only I carried you. Only I felt you taking up space as God grew you in my body. Only I was sick for you. Only I will ever be your Mama. Oh how I wish I could hear your voice mouth those words: mommy. How I wish I could hear you cry, kiss your cheeks, hold you close, feed you till you fell asleep. 

My heart aches for the emptiness of my womb, the one you’re not home in anymore. I’ve been wishing so much that I could be at your grave site, to lay on the earth over your body, that somehow that might make me feel closer to you on a day when we should never be apart. But that’s one of so many things I can’t change or control. I have to accept. 

That accepting is hard. It feels like I’m under a tremendous crushing weight, or like I’m going to explode, or maybe drown. It’s a spiritual, physical, and emotional weight that’s almost too much to bear. But I wouldn’t change it; I grieve because I love you. All I can give you now is my love, my honor, my remembrance. So I will tend to the garden of your memory, your value, your life’s bright significance and worth. I will never forget you, for you’ve carved out my inner being, making me into a better woman. I will tell your big brother James about you, and any little siblings to come. We will wait patiently for Jesus’ return or our Homegoing, whichever is sooner, to meet you. You are part of our great treasure in Heaven; you are a jewel that shines brightly there and beckons us to come to the place where death shall be no more. 

Thank you. I’m so glad I got to be your Mom. I can think of a thousand things I planned on teaching you, but instead you’re the one who has taught me. To wait on the Lord. The value of a person made in the image of God. The love of a mother’s heart, impossibly endless. 

Do you have my cheeks, or your daddy’s eyes? What ways are you uniquely made to image your maker? How is your personality shaped to reflect his glory in your own special ways? I can’t help but wonder how you would have fit into our family. I have a million questions but very few answers. A million shattered dreams and empty hands, an empty crib. 

But this I still have, love for you, my girl. Deeper faith. Treasure in Heaven. 

Love your mama