It was the little boy that she remembered.
Dark brown hair.
Big brown eyes. Maybe it was just
that he reminded her of her brother when he was a baby. He couldn’t have been more than two and maybe
yet still younger than that. His smile—his
growing smile. And the wave directly
from God that told her it was all going to be all right if she was pregnant. And then, as quickly as she saw him, he was
gone.
But, in that moment, her heart had been changed.
The weeks spent in worry, depression, tests and
tears. Weeks of telling herself she wasn’t. Weeks of praying for it not to be true. Weeks of preparing to make a pro-choice
decision, if it was. And suddenly she
was okay with being a mom. She would be…okay.
But by the following Thursday, it was over.
The call, a permanent fixture in her mind, replayed.
Standing in the back office, on her cell, the doctor’s
office had finally called, but the results—she only expected one of two
things. Either they would tell her she
was never pregnant, or that she was.
But the word miscarriage
sent her world into a seismic upheaval.
The nurse’s voice was full of compassion, “The test
results were conclusive with a miscarriage.”
All Alice could muster was a feeble, “Oh.” Before they hung up, the nurse offered up the
only kind words she could.
“Now, y’all can try again as soon you want.”
If she wasn't almost crying, Alice would have laughed. It was a remark meant for good, but it stabbed an even
wider wound in her heart. Two emotions
engulfed Alice. Relief. And utter, desperate grief.
That was a year ago today. Today, a day filled with storms, and these painful
memories.
Her eyes grazed over the scene before her. On her balcony, she sat in the midst of a
summer storm. Rain came down, thunder
heaved, and the wind shook the plants. It
lapped at her face, and she closed her eyes in the warm breeze.
As the storm settled in, she picked up her pen, and began
to write:
Dear little one,
To
the angel I never met, to the one God used to save me, it’s been a year since I’ve
“lost” you. And “lost” seems like an
inappropriate word to use here. After
all, I spent the days before I “lost” you wishing you away, praying you gone…
…but
never ‘gone’ as in taken away. There’s a
difference between never existing and something being taken. I didn’t expect anything to exist. And I anticipated that if it did—if you were
there—that I would ultimately be the one in charge, indulging in my liberal
Californian pro-choice roots. That I
would rid myself of you. But I never,
never expected anything to be decided by the hand of God.
But
I realize now that everything is within His hands. Maybe that’s why He used that little boy’s
wave—his little hand. It was by his
little baby hand that I finally felt the courage to do what I should’ve done
all along….
…love
you.
But
I loved you too late. And I love you
still. It’s the reason I see little
girls and swoon. It’s the reason I cradle
children so lovingly in my arms. It’s
the reason I see new families and smile with tears in my eyes. It’s the reason I touch my stomach some
nights and remember where you were and think of the place you would’ve grown.
You’re
the reason for so much that I do. Losing
you changed my life. God saw what would
come from what came, and maybe that’s why He divined it. Because He knew you were very thing that
would incite a permanent change within my heart. He knew I would never—could never—be the same
without you.
This
letter is but a small token of thanks, of love, of surrender. You changed my life. I never met you. But I knew you. I love you.
And one day I’ll see you. And I’ll
thank you in that moment.
This
isn’t goodbye, for in God’s Kingdom, little one, there is no such thing. Simply, this is to tell you that I’ll be seeing
you.
I
love you,
The
girl you changed
As Alice finished the letter, she rose to the balcony
rail, and held it loosely in the storm, the rain washing away the wet ink.
A year ago today she lost something she barely knew she
wanted then, but something God knew she needed more than anything.
With that, she let the blank page fall from her fingers
and into the earthen ground, letting go of the guilt and appreciating the
beauty in a gift that had only until today—this very day—far surpassed her own
understanding.
Therefore I will
hedge up her way with thorns, and I will build a wall against her, so that she
cannot find her paths (Hosea 2:6).
And the peace of
God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds
in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7).
“For my thoughts
are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so
are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts"
(Isaiah 55:8-9).
