When we left the hospital, we had to make a decision about what to do with our baby. We could either sign to have the remains sent home with us for a official burial or we could allow Seton (which is a Christian/Catholic hospital who is pro-life) to bury Faith along side other little ones who passed away early in their little lives. I looked to my husband to make the decision. I was so spent that I felt I could not make any more decisions. I was still in shock and numb...
My husband was very adamant that we should not bring the baby home with us and since I know my husband as well as I do, I know exactly why. He knew that it would most likely prolong my grief knowing that the baby was in my hands - literally - and that I was now in charge of doing something with her remains. You see, Chris is very cut and dry - there is no gray with him - it is either black or white and no shade in between and to him, our baby was gone. No longer with us. Already in heaven, in the arms of Jesus, and all that was left here was a shell of who she use to be. He did not want to prolong anything - especially my grief and since he is always looking our for me, he informed the nurses that we would allow Seton to handle the burial. I was in agreement. I signed the papers and asked when I could visit the grave sight. The nurse told me that it would take about a week or so for everything to be finalized and that someone would call me and let me know the exact place of burial along with a plot number. So, we packed up and left the hospital - heading home to my two kiddos who were waiting anxiously for mommy to return. Oh, I must admit, it was sad. I had totally gotten use to the idea of being a mom to three kids and now I was having to go back to being a mom of just two. Not that it wasn't enough - just that the thought was so hard and it hurt to leave that day without my second little girl. But life had to go on....
Weeks past and I heard nothing from the hospital. They hadn't called and to be honest, either had I. I had picked up right where I had left off and started back into our daily life and daily routine. School had already begun for my son and he was now in third grade! My daughter was growing like a weed and I was enjoying being home with her. I was attending Bible study again and having my daily devotionals every morning with my Bible and coffee in hand. All in all - things were feeling pretty normal. I was going through life without really mourning. I felt pretty good and guess I attributed it all to God. I thought, "wow, how am I functioning? I am not usually this strong - I guess I have just grown in my faith enough and that God is allowing me to move on without too much strife". Oh, how I was wrong... this was just the calm before the storm.
About 2 months after the miscarriage and D&C, I decided to call the hospital to see where Faith was buried. I wasn't planning on going there at that very moment but knew that one day, I would need to go. As I finished up my devotional that morning, I sat on my couch - in the same place that I sat EVERY morning of EVERY day and made the phone call. All was quiet in my house. Jace was at school, Savannah was still asleep along with my hubby and it was just me, God, and my coffee. I called Seton and this is how the conversation went:
Me: "Yes, I recently had a miscarriage and gave permission for the hospital to bury our baby. They told me they would call with a plot number, etc. a while back but I hadn't heard anything. Can you help me find where our baby is?"
Nurse: "When did you have the D&C?"
Me: "August 14th"
Nurse: "Hold on one moment."
After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally returned."
Nurse: "Um, mam? I am sorry but your baby has not been buried yet."
Me - stunned: "Um, excuse me, what?"
Nurse: "Uh, yes mam, your baby has still not been buried."
Me: "May I ask why???"
Nurse: "Oh sweetie, to be honest, they wait until they have a large number of babies who have passed away and then they bury them all together. The remains are still here but will be buried soon. We will call with the plot number as soon as we have it."
I couldn't move. I couldn't even muster up a "thank you" to that poor woman. They had just told me that my baby - MY BABY - was in a box somewhere deteriorating away, waiting to be put in the ground MONTHS after she passed away? I sat in silence, starring into space. And finally, I began to cry - really cry - for the very first time since I left that hospital 8 weeks prior.
My baby - my flesh and blood - my precious little one is sitting in a box somewhere with a bunch of other poor babies who died as well - just waiting for someone to lay them to rest. What kind of sick joke is this? I was devastated and as I began to get more and more upset, I just finally closed my eyes and began to passionately pray...
"Where are You God?!!!!
In all this, where are You?
Why did You allow this to happen?
Why?
Why is my baby in a box somewhere and not growing in my belly?
Why did this happen to me!
Tell me!!!
Where are you? Why can't I understand....
WHERE ARE YOU, God????!!!!!"
I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and then I opened my eyes...
And right where I sat on EVERY morning of EVERY day before this particular day I saw this...
Never before had I seen this image. Never before had the light of sun reflected in such a precious and miraculous way. Never before had He sent such an unmistakably sign of His love and His understanding. But on this morning and in this minute, He moved the sun just for me, that I might see that He was right where He needed to be...
Where was He?
I asked and His answered...
He was right there. (Why did I ever question Him?)
He was right there with me all along.
He was right there with her in that box. He was right there with Faith in Heaven. He was right there catching every tear. He was right there... He was right there all along.
It was a grueling day but as I look back on it I see that once again, in the depths of my most horrific pain, He was there and He provided. On a day when the pain of her death FINALLY became a reality, He provided a tangible sign of His love for me to cling to and I praise Him for it.
Let me go ahead and say that the months to follow were the most painful of my life as I sunk into a very deep depression. All that I had read about grieving mothers who had suffered miscarriages explained that most women will have a period of shock and numbness before they move on to grieving the baby that they lost. It was most definitely true for me. I didn't experience true grief until many months following her death but I tried to always remember this particular morning when the God of the Universe decided to converse with little ol' me.
Take my word for it - nothing can ease the pain of a hurting child like the touch of God - believe me. And on that morning, He appeared to me right when I needed Him the most.
Oh thank you Father.
