The only desire I have ever had is to be a wife and mother. Growing up, my grandpa built my sister and I a playhouse. We would spend hours upon hours pretending to be moms who were running our own homes. We would have the quintessential tea parties that come with sister-play and set our dolls around the table, serving their every perceived whim. And there, in the house we had a bassinette where I would lay my babies down for bed while gently hushing them to sleep.
That is my first memory of wanting to be a mom. Naively, I never second guessed that it would come true. I moved without worry throughout my childhood and into my early adult life. I was later married and with the certainty that getting pregnant would be effortless, we waited. As luck would have it, I became pregnant rather quickly. Overjoyed, I immediately set about making plans and imagining my life as “mom.” How will tell my husband? I wonder if it will be boy or girl? I can’t wait to buy clothes . . I love those cute little onesies-with-the-feet! My sister is going to freak out!’’. However, just over a month into my pregnancy I lost my baby. My joy immediately turned to inexpressible loss.
All thoughts of the future for this little life, in one tragic moment were broken. The doctors explained this was normal. I still had high chances of conceiving again. They were right. Not long after, I discovered I was pregnant for a second time. Once again, although be it a little more cautiously this time, I started planning. I’m sure this pregnancy will be fine. I mean, the doctors said, it was quite normal to miscarry the first one. So, we told our friends and family and happily went on our way to do some Christmas shopping. Suddenly, I started having sharp stabbing pains. Oh no! Please Jesus, not again! I told my husband, ‘‘we need to go to the doctors. I am having another miscarriage’’.
It was there, in the doctor’s office that I felt the worst. The nurse looked at me while I was in excruciating pain, and said, ‘’you’re probably not even pregnant.” I knew I was pregnant. After some blood tests, the doctor called me the next day. ‘’I’m sorry. You lost your baby,’’ she said. I started sobbing. Another life had so suddenly been taken from my womb. I was angry, hurt, and frustrated. Why would a God who loved me let this happen, why were all my dreams and expectations gone?
I wish I could tell you, “third times the charm.” I wish I could say that after much persistence and prayer the Lord choose to bless us with our hearts’ desire, but I cannot, because, He did not. The third time I was pregnant, I told only my husband. I wanted to protect my heart from the hurt and pain I realized could happen again. But I could not help but become a little hopeful. Carrying to 7 weeks, a slight joy started to appear. Maybe this time, I will hold my child in my arms. And then one stormy winter evening, I found myself crying out to God again. Only this time, holding a little life in my hands. There would be those who would tell me, ‘’It wasn’t really a life. You were only a few weeks’’ but a small life is still a significant life. The pain and loss is valid and real no matter how far along you are.
For now, my dreams of being a mom have yet to be fulfilled. There are times when I still cry out to God in pain and anger, but even then, I never doubt that He loves me. And I can stand by the verse in Psalm 34:18 that He hears my pain and is close to my heart: ‘’The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit’’. I know that more then anyone else, He feels my pain. He holds me in His arms while I sob with all the brokenheartedness that this world has to offer; even at the same time He joyfully welcomes my three little ones into His kingdom. The promise of eternity has given me hope. One day, I will meet my babies and hold them in my arms but for now, I remain, Almost a Mom.