Sunday, June 26, 2011

My Treasure Box

A tiny box.  No decoration.  No markings.  Simple.  Ordinary.  Unremarkable.

But inside that box.

A treasure.

I open the box.  A flood of memories.

Memories tucked away, deep in my heart, but never forgotten.

Memories, not shared, but not secret.

An entire existence.  Held in this tiny box.
I remember.

The pink line confirming my suspicions.

The feelings that washed over me.  Elation, fear, doubt.  Could I do this?  Could I handle this?  Am I ready for this?  So soon.

Telling my husband.  His reaction.  A nervous laugh.  Similar feelings.  Excited and unsure.

Inside the box.
My original plan to tell my husband with a card.
But I couldn't wait.
Telling our families.
The shirt my son wore

with the big news.
The very strong feeling.  I knew without a doubt.  Not like the guesses I had with my other kids.  That both turned out to be correct.  I KNEW.

It's a girl.

And then.

A tiny drop.

One little red spot.

The panic.

A frantic call to the doctor.  "Go to the hospital!"

An emergency room visit.

The sonogram.  A picture of my tiny girl.
So tiny.  So helpless.
No heartbeat.  Measuring 5 weeks.  I knew I was 6.

It might be too early to detect.  Words that offered a tiny thread of hope.  Even though I knew.

Sent home.
Threatened Miscarriage
The waiting.

We had plans to see a movie with a friend.

We decided to go.  Not wanting to explain why we couldn't.  To take our mind off things.

We should have declined.

Evan Almighty

I didn't make it ten minutes.

There in the bathroom of the movie theater.  I had my miscarriage.

The agony and heartache.

My husband had to send my friend to check on me.

She had no idea.

I told her to tell him I needed to go home.

That I wasn't feeling well.

On the drive home I had to tell him.  The horrible news that we had most definitely lost our little girl.


At home in bed we cried.

He asked if we were being punished.

I didn't say what I felt at the time.

That I was being punished.  For my doubt.  God had heard that little prayer.  That I wasn't ready.  So, he took her from us.

Why did he have to punish my husband for my doubt?

Guilt.  Guilt that is no more.  Because I know better.  Because I know God knows better than to answer all my foolish prayers.

The hurtful words at the doctor's office.  Meant kindly but painful nonetheless.

"At least you have your son.  You know there isn't something wrong with you.  You can always have another."

As if she was some broken trinket that could be replaced.

Her name.

Brigid Katherine.

My husband returning to the hospital to bring me a precious gift.
Copies of the sonogram.
My husband finally calling my parents to tell them.  What I couldn't bring myself to tell them.  What I still can't put into words.

The tears that fall even as I write.

As I remember.

As I will always remember.

little charm I wear in her memory.  A forget me not. With beads to commemorate the months.  May for her conception.  January for her due date.

And June for her loss.

June 26th 2007.

I remember.

And a whispered prayer.
"Dear Lord, I would have loved to have held my baby on my lap and tell her about you, but since I didn't get the chance, would you please hold her on your lap and tell her about me?"
--Author Unknown