21 November 2011

Goodbye Dearest Laurel

My dearest little one I'm so sad to say goodbye ever, but our time was particularly abbreviated.  Your life began almost 9 weeks ago.  I didn't even realize at first that you had joined us.  Then after a couple weeks went by, I began to suspect that our love might have been blessed with another little life.  I took a test. (+) showed the picture I sent to your Daddy.

You should have seen his joyous face when he ran into the house to hug me!

He was pretty sure you would be a little brother for the G, you see, because the plus sign was blue.  What a card your Daddy is!  He certainly made me chuckle that day.

Over the next couple of weeks I began to feel the telltale signs you were setting up a nice little home in my tummy.  It bulged a touch, some of my clothes became snug, an ache here and there to say hello.  So, I made an appointment to see a doctor to begin our regular exams as you grew.

Then last week came around.  I began to notice just a slight shade of spotting, but it was my week to go see the doc and I had read that a little spotting can be normal in early pregnancy.  But it persisted every day until Wednesday the 16th when we went in to see our doctor.

(What an amicable lady she is, too!) No real comment when I mentioned the spotting and we moved on to our first Ultrasound with the gentle smiles of 'experienced' parents.  Then she panned across your little body and we watched.  You were quite still inside and out.  The doctor measured you, 'Looks like just a touch over 8 weeks.  And I'm not seeing a heartbeat.'  I've seen hundreds of various ultrasounds, but only a few of tiny babies so I know the form, where to look, but not all the developmental timeline type details.  My mind raced - can the heartbeat be reliably seen at 8 weeks or to they have to be older? The scan continued with no change.  Then she said what our fears had hardly glanced at, "I'm afraid you are having a miscarriage."

Tears began to sting the inside of my eyes, my lids closed, they stretched down across my cheeks to run across the world.  God?! Why? Why do I now see you walking away with my little one? My little girl.  The one I had just recently thought to name Laurel? But wait! She's beautiful and so joyous!  We love her! Oh, please, no!

Cling to my Love.  Cling to my husband's hand and my Lord's heart.  He is a good God!  Yet my heart also knows, He is the God who gives and takes away.  I've often tritely said how he has four answers to our prayers, and today I prayed for healing yet received a rending 'No - I love you too much.'  Why? Mystery.  Can you trust and accept that my child?  NO.  no. ... yes. You are Lord and I love you.  I can trust there is a reason, even if I don't know it.  I can even trust that it is good, in some way.  But it brings grief.  Swelling, palpable pain in my heart for the miraculous little one.  That you gave.  And took away.

Then I think of her holding Your Hand.  The hand of the One who loves her even more than I.  And every time that shimmers through the tears of my heart, she is smiling.  Smiling?  Radiantly, like You've just told her a joke about how you made the Platypus or that Unicorns are real or that she will sing songs that cause crystals to dance and form in Glory.

And somehow the corners of my mouth turn up a little.  Salty with tears, but marveling.  Because I know Laurel is safe.  And will always be loved both in my heart and Yours.

Do I still have questions, pain, and tears? Yes.  My heart hurts.  But only a little compared to what it could.  I wonder if I will see her someday in heaven.  The radiant soprano singing forth the dawn in praise to You.  I'd like to think so.

Goodbye, dearest Laurel.  You lived.  You were precious to us.  We know you are with God.

You are loved.

Laurel Elizabeth Neveau
Sept 17, 2011-Nov 16, 2011