Healing
Tonight I am in Cannon Beach, Oregon. This is my family's second annual trip here. The little red cottage we've rented is just a block from the beach and a short jaunt to town. I am in one of my favorite happy places.
We have already filled our trip with time on the beach flying kites, hunting for remnants of sea life left behind in the tides, and built our share of sand castles. We drove along the coast with Adventures in Odessey taking me back to my childhood with fond memories of many a family vacation with my parents and brothers. I was not anticipating crying and then laughing about my crying with every sentimental episode. Our little outing today took us to visit Cape Meares lighthouse followed by an ice cream treat at the Tillamook cheese factory just before they closed. Then back to the cottage for dinner and games and reading time before bed and the rest of our party arrives for the weekend. And that is just today! Whew!
Once the kids were in bed and the pick up from the day complete, I had a enough time to pause for quiet reflection. The fact is, I should not be here. This trip should not have happened...at least not at this time. I should be home nesting, or, maybe if I'd been lucky, already cradling the newest member of our family in my arms. The last place I should be is in another state on vacation.
Yet, here I am, on vacation far from home. Tomorrow marks the day every expectant mom marks on their calendar and engraves in their mind as the finish line - the due date. For me, it is just a date. For there is nothing to be finished. No eager anticipation of a long season's end - trading it in for something that coos and wriggles and has the sweet smelling head that all babies do. All anticipation of that disappeared the moment my baby's heart stopped beating.
The end was not the end of the story. Healing is happening. And this weekend, perhaps no longer marking a birth, now marks a page in that book of my healing. And now I can turn the page. A new page with new healing awaits.
I finished writing Shiloh's birth story tonight. I've written one for each of my babies. This birth seemed no less significant. I still labored. I still endured that pain of childbirth. This pain went far deeper, though. The side effects lasted far longer, the healing is only beginning. But the peace that was not needed so desperately in my other children's births, can be found in abundance in Shiloh's. A mark of God's great love for me. That though my arms were empty my heart was filled. That has made the pain of this loss easier to journey through, though not erasing it.
This weekend, tomorrow, in this place, I remember. I remember my baby, Shiloh. A gift to me for only a short time, but, oh what a treasure still! Missed here and now by only me, but found sitting amidst the angels of heaven, at my Savior's feet.
I love and miss you my sweet baby. Shiloh.
We have already filled our trip with time on the beach flying kites, hunting for remnants of sea life left behind in the tides, and built our share of sand castles. We drove along the coast with Adventures in Odessey taking me back to my childhood with fond memories of many a family vacation with my parents and brothers. I was not anticipating crying and then laughing about my crying with every sentimental episode. Our little outing today took us to visit Cape Meares lighthouse followed by an ice cream treat at the Tillamook cheese factory just before they closed. Then back to the cottage for dinner and games and reading time before bed and the rest of our party arrives for the weekend. And that is just today! Whew!
Once the kids were in bed and the pick up from the day complete, I had a enough time to pause for quiet reflection. The fact is, I should not be here. This trip should not have happened...at least not at this time. I should be home nesting, or, maybe if I'd been lucky, already cradling the newest member of our family in my arms. The last place I should be is in another state on vacation.
Yet, here I am, on vacation far from home. Tomorrow marks the day every expectant mom marks on their calendar and engraves in their mind as the finish line - the due date. For me, it is just a date. For there is nothing to be finished. No eager anticipation of a long season's end - trading it in for something that coos and wriggles and has the sweet smelling head that all babies do. All anticipation of that disappeared the moment my baby's heart stopped beating.
The end was not the end of the story. Healing is happening. And this weekend, perhaps no longer marking a birth, now marks a page in that book of my healing. And now I can turn the page. A new page with new healing awaits.
I finished writing Shiloh's birth story tonight. I've written one for each of my babies. This birth seemed no less significant. I still labored. I still endured that pain of childbirth. This pain went far deeper, though. The side effects lasted far longer, the healing is only beginning. But the peace that was not needed so desperately in my other children's births, can be found in abundance in Shiloh's. A mark of God's great love for me. That though my arms were empty my heart was filled. That has made the pain of this loss easier to journey through, though not erasing it.
This weekend, tomorrow, in this place, I remember. I remember my baby, Shiloh. A gift to me for only a short time, but, oh what a treasure still! Missed here and now by only me, but found sitting amidst the angels of heaven, at my Savior's feet.
I love and miss you my sweet baby. Shiloh.
Did you share the birth story?
ReplyDeleteObviously I haven't logged on in a while or didn't check the comments! Oops!
DeleteI did not, at least not here. I did write the whole event down in my journal, but there are parts of how things transpired that bring up too much negative emotion, not so much regarding the loss, but what happened in the wake of the loss.