The letter below was written by a new friend of mine, after she lost her child to a miscarriage. Her poignant words touched me and I'm so grateful she allowed me to share them with you. I hope they touch you as well.
If I could talk to my baby, this is what I’d say:
My precious baby,
Your daddy and sisters were elated at the news of your new life within me. While your big sister Estella told relatives, friends, strangers and anyone who would listen about the baby in mommy’s tummy, I was already dreaming about and anticipating your arrival in May. Your sisters would often lay their ears on my tummy and send you kisses through my skin. They even helped me put together your bassinet in hopes that you would someday lay in it. What a miracle you were! A new life within me!
Life was so crazy the night I found out. In a sterile little ER room the Dr. walked in and told me you had died. He said it may have even happened weeks before. I wondered to myself how long I had been a tomb for you, my little one. Others may think it sounds morbid, but I was glad to have held you inside even if your life had dimmed and burnt out. At least I held you. I tried to do everything I knew to make you strong and healthy, but our God is Sovereign and He gets to hold you now. Often when life gets rough I fall back into His arms as well. There is no better place to be than where you are now…but I do wish you were still here. This is still so hard for your mommy.
It was when my body turned hostile to you and turned and twisted and cramped and ripped until it finally spit you out to dispose of like common garbage, that my whole self seemed like crying out in confusion and sadness. My body seemed like an enemy that I could not fight…I wondered what it had done to you anyway. How could one day I be full of a new miracle and the next day have death within me? You died within me and my body is still bleeding from your death.
I cry more now, since you left. True to His promise, God comforts me daily and dries my tears. I think your sisters are His little helpers. Estella told me at supper that we’ll all get to play with you in heaven someday. She brings me her baby doll to hold as if someone tells her that there is emptiness in me that a baby left behind. One day I held her baby when she offered her and for a moment I closed my eyes and imagined it was you. A living breathing you! I quickly stopped the thought though…realizing that the line between stable and unstable can be thin during these times.
In church today we sang a song about when Christ returns and it said that parents should gather all their children. I wondered if you would know me in heaven, if you’d recognize my voice, or perhaps God has just planted that knowledge on our hearts. I don’t know how everything works in heaven but I do know it is better than my mind can even fathom. I do believe you are in the arms of Jesus now but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous of Him. It sounds awful to say I’m jealous of my Savior but I know he understands.
As I lay in the dark room the other night thinking about you, God placed in my mind the lines of a hymn I haven’t heard since childhood. I couldn’t tell you the name of the song or the rest of the words but He gave me just what I needed. I clearly heard “ and Jesus said ‘come to the waters, stand by my side, I know you are thirsty, you won’t be denied, I felt every teardrop, when in darkness you cried, and I strove to remind you that for those tears I died.”
Life here isn’t always easy, my child, but it is good…with God. I have been so blessed and have realized that even my Father in heaven can turn the horrors of life into true peace if we give them to Him. I need to say goodbye now, but it is my prayer that the circle will truly be unbroken and that you will get to meet all of your family. Until then, I love you my child. I loved you the moment I learned you were a part of me and I love you still. I don’t understand why some things happen the way they do but I do praise God that you have a home with Him. I also praise Him that our “hello” will one day be much, much longer than this little “goodbye.”
“Goodbye, my child.”
Love,
Your Mommy,
Erin Allrich
November 9, 2008
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