on your due date
Dear Evelyn,
As I sit down to write, I hear the murmuring cries of your sister Abigail, who is just waking from her night's sleep. When I rock her to sleep, gently cradlling her ever growing body, I think of you.
We've thought a lot about you this week. In the post-holiday quietness, your presence still echoes in my heart. I thought that I had moved past feeling the loss of you so deeply, but as your due date drew near, a new tide of sadness and pain came. We miss you so much!
As I sat down with your Dad last night, we both realized how differently the last few months have become since we said goodbye to you on September 5th. We could have had family here during the holidays and after to help, last minute trips to the store for baby supplies, a swollen belly to rest after a long day. We could have been coming home from the hospital this week, cradling you tightly. We could have been introducing you to your brother and sisters. I could just see Abigail pointing at you with delight and uttering her recently polished word: "Bah-bee!" Your siblings would not have been able to keep their hands off of you, especially your hands and feet!
We chose to hold tightly to the hope of your life continuing past what the doctors said. We chose not to terminate my pregnancy-- we chose not to terminate you. The Psalmist's declaration, "You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb..." (Psalm 139:13) was a recognition of the innate value of every person, from the womb up. God's forming of you from your conception to when you were delivered at 21 weeks surpassed the shaping of a mere body. We held this body, this precious shell, on the afternoon of September 5th.
Yet even at that age, you were so much more than that. How could I be missing a mass of cells or a formless body? Here is why-- "...your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your Book before one of them came to be." From conception, Your Father in heaven bestowed on you the glory of being made in His image and possessing a unique soul and spirit.
Life is not the sum of what you do, nor is personhood determined by age. We cherished you as best as we could while you were in the womb, not ever having the opportunity to hold you, talk to you or make memories with you. But God knew you intimately and rejoiced in the new creation that He made that was Evelyn Grace. It is true that you never walked on this earth, but you are still cherished and beloved, created to live in relationship with Your Maker.
I don't believe in talking to the dead once they are gone. This letter is more for me, for your dad and for others who might be feeling loss. It helps me feel like you were more than just a passing dream.
We love you, Evelyn. We miss you! I never regret the choices we made.
We look forward to the day when we meet you in the house that has many, many rooms...
soli deo gloria
in loving memory of evelyn,
september 5, 2009
As I sit down to write, I hear the murmuring cries of your sister Abigail, who is just waking from her night's sleep. When I rock her to sleep, gently cradlling her ever growing body, I think of you.
We've thought a lot about you this week. In the post-holiday quietness, your presence still echoes in my heart. I thought that I had moved past feeling the loss of you so deeply, but as your due date drew near, a new tide of sadness and pain came. We miss you so much!
As I sat down with your Dad last night, we both realized how differently the last few months have become since we said goodbye to you on September 5th. We could have had family here during the holidays and after to help, last minute trips to the store for baby supplies, a swollen belly to rest after a long day. We could have been coming home from the hospital this week, cradling you tightly. We could have been introducing you to your brother and sisters. I could just see Abigail pointing at you with delight and uttering her recently polished word: "Bah-bee!" Your siblings would not have been able to keep their hands off of you, especially your hands and feet!
We chose to hold tightly to the hope of your life continuing past what the doctors said. We chose not to terminate my pregnancy-- we chose not to terminate you. The Psalmist's declaration, "You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb..." (Psalm 139:13) was a recognition of the innate value of every person, from the womb up. God's forming of you from your conception to when you were delivered at 21 weeks surpassed the shaping of a mere body. We held this body, this precious shell, on the afternoon of September 5th.
Yet even at that age, you were so much more than that. How could I be missing a mass of cells or a formless body? Here is why-- "...your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your Book before one of them came to be." From conception, Your Father in heaven bestowed on you the glory of being made in His image and possessing a unique soul and spirit.
Life is not the sum of what you do, nor is personhood determined by age. We cherished you as best as we could while you were in the womb, not ever having the opportunity to hold you, talk to you or make memories with you. But God knew you intimately and rejoiced in the new creation that He made that was Evelyn Grace. It is true that you never walked on this earth, but you are still cherished and beloved, created to live in relationship with Your Maker.
I don't believe in talking to the dead once they are gone. This letter is more for me, for your dad and for others who might be feeling loss. It helps me feel like you were more than just a passing dream.
We love you, Evelyn. We miss you! I never regret the choices we made.
We look forward to the day when we meet you in the house that has many, many rooms...
soli deo gloria
in loving memory of evelyn,
september 5, 2009
Oh Adrienne,
ReplyDeleteThis was so hard for me to read, yet so good. I haven't responded to your latest email because we are going through another loss of our own. On Wednesday as we looked at the little one growing we were told that there is no heartbeat. I am so tired and sad, yet I am inspired by your post. It has given me hope and helped re-direct my thoughts. Thank you for your courage and boldness to share your story with the world. Miss you and praying for all of you.
Love, Cory