Asking

I spent the evening last night re-reading Gone Too Soon by Sherri Devashrayee Wittwer. It's a book about the life loss of infants and unborn children. I read it when I lost Elisabeth and it brought me comfort so I thought it might do so again. I was right.

One of the biggest struggles I have had when losing my babies is the "not knowing." Not knowing why their arrival in my life seemed so right and meant-to-be only to lose them before they were ever born. Not knowing why they died. Was it just their time to go? Had they already finished their mission and were called on to a greater one? Was their body sick? Did my body somehow fail them? Worst of all is the implication of some people that since these babies did not "breathe outside the womb" their eternal status is uncertain. No more poignant was that pain than when one of the medical personnnel at te hospital continually referred to my baby--my baby who was perfectly formed with eyes and ears and a little nose and a sweet facial expression, tiny toes and fingers-- as "pregnancy tissue."

But when I think of the bond my son and I shared in those few short months we were together and I remember the flutterings of his movements within my womb, all I feel for him is love and I know that he was a part of me--a living, moving, existing part of me. Then I take comfort in the words of a mother who was quoted in the book, Gone Too Soon, "I know that Heavenly Father will return my daughter [and son] to me some day because He knows that's what needs to happen for me to be happy; and I know that God is just" (89).

The book continues on to say, "While the scriptures may not deal explicity with our lost infants and the meaning of their lives, we are assured that whatever we ask in faith will be given" (90).

And so I am asking.