August 12, 2009
My anxiety-ridden body shudders over and over like waves pounding a rocky shore. “What do you mean that means we’re having a baby today?” I ask the doctor. How could this be? I am only 27 weeks and 6 days pregnant. It isn’t time yet… he won’t live.
I lay flat on my back looking up into lights as bright as 3 suns. Tears cloud my eyes and blue hospital drape grazes my lips. My nose twitches as oxygen is forced through my upturned nostrils and tubes graze the back of my ears. My out stretched arms resemble those of Christ’s on the cross; strapped down unable to move leaving my body to its full vulnerability. My body shudders in the silent clanging of metal surgical instruments and I awaken from my sea of pain to my own gut wrenching cries as my son is plucked from my womb behind my shrouded eyes. Each sob is a nail driven through my hands as I lay suffering my own cross. I am left for the whole world to see, arms outstretched and my gut open and bleeding on the table. Is this how Our Father felt as he witnessed his son suffering on the cross?
My poor son, my little Leo, how my heart aches for you! To think you gave your life so I could live! In less than 20 minutes I could have been dead. I would have left a husband, daughter, and son. I would have left a mother and father, sisters, and grandparents. I would have given my life for you in a second my dear son. My heart aches to know you more, to hear your cries, to hear your laughs. I am left here to mourn your short life and to celebrate its gifts and praise the gift of life I have been blessed with. How things have changed in such a short time. How my heart is full and empty at the same time. When I close my eyes all I hear is the beat of my own heart, the utter silence of what I’ve lost. Your phantom movements haunt my womb; they seem to say, “I am still with you”. I clutch the velvet pouch of your tiny remains to my chest clinging to your memory. How empty are my arms! How I long to hold your beloved body in my hands. My love for you is like the depths of the ocean, never-ending and vast, dark and mysterious, loudly trembling and deafening. Oh my heart aches for you my sweet son.
Dear Lord,
It is enough; you know what my heart feels. Give me the strength and understanding I long for. Grant me the peace that only you can give…. In Jesus name, Amen.
My anxiety-ridden body shudders over and over like waves pounding a rocky shore. “What do you mean that means we’re having a baby today?” I ask the doctor. How could this be? I am only 27 weeks and 6 days pregnant. It isn’t time yet… he won’t live.
I lay flat on my back looking up into lights as bright as 3 suns. Tears cloud my eyes and blue hospital drape grazes my lips. My nose twitches as oxygen is forced through my upturned nostrils and tubes graze the back of my ears. My out stretched arms resemble those of Christ’s on the cross; strapped down unable to move leaving my body to its full vulnerability. My body shudders in the silent clanging of metal surgical instruments and I awaken from my sea of pain to my own gut wrenching cries as my son is plucked from my womb behind my shrouded eyes. Each sob is a nail driven through my hands as I lay suffering my own cross. I am left for the whole world to see, arms outstretched and my gut open and bleeding on the table. Is this how Our Father felt as he witnessed his son suffering on the cross?
My poor son, my little Leo, how my heart aches for you! To think you gave your life so I could live! In less than 20 minutes I could have been dead. I would have left a husband, daughter, and son. I would have left a mother and father, sisters, and grandparents. I would have given my life for you in a second my dear son. My heart aches to know you more, to hear your cries, to hear your laughs. I am left here to mourn your short life and to celebrate its gifts and praise the gift of life I have been blessed with. How things have changed in such a short time. How my heart is full and empty at the same time. When I close my eyes all I hear is the beat of my own heart, the utter silence of what I’ve lost. Your phantom movements haunt my womb; they seem to say, “I am still with you”. I clutch the velvet pouch of your tiny remains to my chest clinging to your memory. How empty are my arms! How I long to hold your beloved body in my hands. My love for you is like the depths of the ocean, never-ending and vast, dark and mysterious, loudly trembling and deafening. Oh my heart aches for you my sweet son.
Dear Lord,
It is enough; you know what my heart feels. Give me the strength and understanding I long for. Grant me the peace that only you can give…. In Jesus name, Amen.
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~Kellene