If you've not yet read my blog about miscarrying my daughter, Brynna…please read THIS first. If you've not yet heard of Ruby, please read THIS and THIS.
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November and December, although a time of family, thanksgiving, and lots of food…always have me a little down. It’s almost been a year since I quietly sobbed, writing my blog in the my hotel room in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, letting the whole world know one of my biggest failures and heartbreaks in life. The response was beyond what I expected. I was so thankful to receive hundreds of correspondence mentioning they were struggling with similar things, or that they were proud of me, and that they were praying for me. And November 1st marked Ruby’s first birthday.
Well, a year later…I grieve two daughters that I’ll never see grow up into the amazing women I know they could and will be.
My heart aches just as my arms do with the weightlessness that they carry. My eyes desperately searching for the one…the one I’ll call my own. I watch friends younger and older having children with a jealous and heavy heart. I take photos of families celebrating their new baby. My mind is constantly on what they have…and what I could have right now. And it’s not to say that there hasn’t been a tremendous amount of healing the past two years…and mommies like me will understand that even after healing and deliverance from a deep pain like this…I still stare a little too long at a strangers baby. Wondering.
I have a vision of Brynna…hobbling around the house on her own two feet…going a little too fast and before she knows it her own feet can’t keep up. I see myself kissing scuffed knees…wiping giant crocodile tears as I tell her it’s going to be okay. Hearing “mommy” for the first time. Watching her wandering eyes as she observes the world around her…starting to make sense of all the mystery. Beginning to decorate the walls with her scribbles, covering pieces that I spent a good amount of money on because they were less beautiful than the red crayon on printer paper. I see myself…with her and Jacob in our own family pictures. Bribing her with cookies and snacks…settling for the funny crying pictures because hey, it’s real life. I imagine sitting there reading a book…pointing out the different animals and the noises they make. Tying her hair up in little pigtails. Bringing her to her grandparents house for her birthday where everyone showers her with love and gifts. Seeing her sweet face on Christmas morning when she sees all the gifts Santa brought her. Watching her change every day from my baby girl to the little girl they all inevitably end up becoming.
I have a vision of Ruby. Of what it would be like to get an update today. To receive a handprint in the mail like the other sponsored children sent their sponsors. To have seen her in September. Oh what a day it would have been to squeal upon seeing her…to kiss those cheeks…to hear her giggle in person for the first time. It’s an odd feeling to grieve a love you never could actually call your own…a child you probably loved ‘too much’. Nevertheless…the vision of Ruby that I have in my mind…*my* Ruby…is gone.
So here I am…grieving the loss of my biological daughter…and my spiritual daughter. One, I know is in perfect hands. Literally. In the company of precious babies who eagerly await the day they can meet their mommies and daddies. The other…in strangers hands. I have to believe that she too is in His hands…that she is being loved and protected and covered in His perfect love. That he is giving her parents strength and courage to raise her in a loving home.
I know someday I’ll meet my girl. And I pray that someday I get to meet Ruby as the woman she grows up to be.
And I know that there are some children I’ve yet to meet that already consume so much of my heart. Every passing day the Lord gives me more and more of a desire to be a mother. And as I grieve, I rejoice knowing my desire is not one given in vain. I rejoice knowing that my children will know and have a father who loves me and pursues me every day…and who is passionate about loving them too. They will know that every day…for their entire lives. I rejoice knowing that every single amount of loss and heartache has been used for His glory…and that my jealous, aching heart is constantly being covered in grace, love, and healing. I rejoice because His plans and timing are perfect. And that He is already putting in place the events that will lead me to my Indian daughter.
I rejoice too in knowing that my heart has such a capacity to love as deeply as it does. To love a little girl I never met…and to love a little girl despite her calling someone else “mommy”. I rejoice because in these quiet days of terrible two’s…I’m learning how to be the best mother…wife…and woman I can be for my kids. And in the midst of grief and heartache this cold December…I think that’s a pretty okay place to be.
My soon-to-be husbad…life partner…and future father to those kids I just can't wait to meet someday.
