Sunshine and scribbles

Morgan and Jared

(my favorite picture from last night in the mountains)

Several months ago, at the beginning of the summer, a young woman bought a dresser from me for her baby’s nursery. Her belly grew with child. When I asked her if she was carrying her firstborn, she thought for a moment – hesitated, then explained to me that no, it was not her first, and that she had had a stillborn baby last year.

That was her first child.

The thought was excruciating to me – I thought of it clearly. To have nourished a little body, another human being within you, to have felt that baby alive, then to give birth to that baby, so small and helpless. And then for that baby to be gone.

I thought of how brave she was, and how, to now have another child growing within her, how her heart must be heavy with worry.

It made my heart ache for her. Having a child of my own, made something about her experience so real to me.

I thought about how many times strangers came up to me when I was pregnant, inquiring about my growing baby’s time of arrival, and if it was approaching soon. I thought of how many times I’ve even asked women I don’t even know – at the store, or wherever.

She must have been asked dozens of questions, dozens of times. It must have been painful to reply.

Yet, there was her response. Honest. Real.

She chose to share her truth, to not forget.

To move on.

Yesterday, Morgan and I went to the store on a birthday-goodie errand. The weight of his growing body is now so heavy in my arms. He grows so perfect, so consistent. He’s full of health. He’s strong.

Across the parking lot, I recognized the woman from earlier in the summer. She was with her husband, pushing a steel shopping cart with a bundle of baby propped atop. I stopped to watch until I couldn’t see them anymore. My heart skipped a beat.

A miracle. To heal her heart.

How perfect are the tender mercies of our Heavenly Father.

Morgan fidgeted in my arms as we walked into the store– fidgeted the rest of the day. We baked cake. We ate dinner. We drove up in the mountains and let three balloons fly away (a new family tradition we began this year, thanks to Nie). We made wishes. Gave our daddy birthday kisses. Then drove home where we tucked our little darling into bed.

The feelings I have within my heart for my son run so very deep within me. They are purposeful feelings, intended to be felt. They are heavenly, eternal. And now that they exist inside my heart, they always will.

I know that as he grows, he will change. We will help and nurture him. We will teach him.

We will love him. Always.

I know God is ever-watchful. He protects, comforts, blesses, and heals all.