throughout this pregnancy i have been repeatedly asked by doctors, technicians, ER nurses and strangers if this is my first pregnancy. the word first catches in my throat. sometimes for simplicity i say yes. other times i explain this is most likely my sixth.
the past few years i have watched for and silently marked the passing of various dates. both dates of losses and dates of what would have been births. generally july is a hard month for me with three reminders.
i have struggled with what those almost lives mean to me both in a physical and spiritual sense.
from a religious standpoint i am pro-life with a few exceptions. i believe there is life in conception. i believe that we were first spirit children of our heavenly father who each await a physical body to experience this earth life. i believe that there is life after death and that we are always progressing. i believe that we will be reunited with loved ones in the next life, and if we have lost children, they will be ours once again to raise. our church mentions specifically the handling of stillborn children – but not miscarriages.
up until now, i had not felt that there were children who belonged to me in heaven. i wrestled with that fact, mostly out of fear that i was wrong, and they were waiting up there and wondering why i was such a lame mother. my cousin reassured me. she made the point that if i did not have an overwhelming feeling of children waiting for me in the hereafter than that was most likely my answer. that sentiment has brought me peace.
when i moved to seattle almost seven years ago i discovered brian andreas’ story people. their color, whimsy and poetry spoke to me. i was enamored with their power. we soon had several in our home and i even saved up for a sculpture. remember how you spent $300 on a piece of wood?? christian would tease. and i’d remind him that it was my most favorite piece of wood in the entire world.
i knew i needed a story people for the baby room and i carefully picked one out and put it on my registry. but then, a few weeks ago, i went in to fireworks at bellesquare while christian worked some crazy deal at the lego store. i headed straight for the back to flip through the bin of story people. i read every single one. not finding the one i had selected, i stumbled on an entirely different one.
i read and re-read it through eyes that quickly filled with tears. and that is how christian found me. in the back of fireworks, crying, over something beautiful.
are these sad tears or happy tears? he asked concerned. i wasn’t sure. it felt like a little of both.
sad tears for this journey. for the dates that are marked but do not grow older with time.
happy tears for this journey. for the little person who already truly feels like mine.
come, ye disconsolate; #115 lds hymnal