A Miracle, Still

 It's been a week.

 I'm just today allowing myself to process all the growing that has been required the past few days that seem more like a year.

It's because of a cousin that is more like a brother. I blame that on my mother. She has a tendency to just love people because they are people and she just loves him. And he loves and accepts her and calls her Mama T. Which means he's stuck with me as a sort of a sister.

Lance is married to a most remarkable woman. I just love her. Even more so after the past few days.

 I got to see firsthand why they are so amazing together.

I have given birth thirteen times. Giving birth is sacred to me. If I had it my way there would be no one but my sweetheart and the throngs of heaven with me when a sweet child comes into this world. That isn't practical, I know. Most of the time it isn't even possible. I've needed help of some sort or another and I'm thankful there have been others there to fill those needs.

Having other people around doesn't make it less sacred. That's one of the things that I learned this week. Another is that sacred things remain that way because they are treated with respect and dignity. So I hope that Lance and Kim will understand that I am not writing their birth story.

 Birth stories belong to the parents.

 Especially to the mama.

Only she knows the deepest feelings of her heart. Only she knows the things that were of the greatest worth that day. Only she knows and understands where the power and strength to carry on came from. Only she knows the things that must never be forgotten.

 And the things that must not be remembered.

I need to write about the experience, though. I need to allow my heart to say some of the things it has felt this week. I need to work through the emotion that has built up.

A baby. No heartbeat. A Mommy. A Daddy. Pain. Sorrow.

What can I do to alleviate some of the pain? DOING becomes a need. I need to be able to have some control over a situation that no one has any control over.

I get to spend an afternoon finishing the inside of a beautiful little casket. I have to stop now and then as waves of emotion flood over me. I'm remembering back to just a few hours before, when the tiny body that will rest here is cradled in my hands.

When I first saw little Matthew, it was too much. I became weak and had to leave the hospital room. Babies are not supposed to be born sleeping.

As I tried to gather myself together I learned something else. Caregivers have emotions, too. A sweet nurse that was all business in the delivery room was now with me in the hallway. We exchanged hugs and tears and then she took a deep breath, put on a brave face and went on with her work.

 I decided to learn something from her.

I prayed to my Father in Heaven for strength. I was immediately overcome with an entirely new perspective as an answer to that prayer. I was no longer focused on this sleeping child that would not wake, but on the absolute miracle that had occurred. Here was a precious body for a spirit that had returned home. Such a beautiful face! Tiny nostrils and perfect lips. Sweet fingers on a hand that was smaller than my finger print. 

And those feet! Absolute perfection. How could toes that were no thicker than my fingernail be so precise, perfectly detailed, and so adorable? I just couldn't get over those feet!

Miss Brianna was asked to record this sacred time with photographs. It was my privilege to be by her side. We both felt the guidance that comes from the other side. We both felt the spirit of this little person. 

We both felt the sense of humor that came with that spirit.

Now and then I notice little moments of growth in my children. Sometimes I witness womanhood come on over night. Brianna astounds me. I am so proud of her for developing an interest into a talent and then sharing that talent for so much good.

As Miss Brianna and I left the hospital we were humbled and quiet. There weren't many words to share. Words hadn't even been formed yet. We started out in the darkness of night but as we drew nearer to our home the light began to erupt from over the mountains in all directions. Miss B, as tired and worn as she was, had to stop the car. She ran out into a field, got down on her knees, and started snapping pics of the sunrise. I was reminded of my post Chasing Light. I know the timing that morning was a special gift to us. And hopefully to Kim and Lance as well.

I wish I could stop writing now. But I can't. There's more in my heart. 

My brother Seth left this earth just before I entered it. I never knew him and yet he has had a large impact on my life. His life and death changed my parents. It reminded them of how strong they are. His earthly experience drew my parents closer to each other and closer to God. They learned how to let things go that need to be let go of and they learned how to cherish the things that should be cherished.

And they learned the difference.

My father offered to have Matthew interred with Seth. At the graveside service I witnessed a great man stand at the head of his own son's grave and dedicate that soil to receive yet another special body. I can't begin to comprehend the faith, the understanding, and the love he possesses.

 When I asked about it later my father said he only wished he could have done the same for all of his  grandchildren and great-grandchildren that were born sleeping.

I don't welcome hard things in my life. But I am grateful for them. I am learning that mountains in my way can be marched around or climbed. If I choose to climb them I get a much better perspective.

Thank you Lance and Kim, for letting me be a part of your climbing expedition. The view isn't completely lovely yet, but it is becoming clearer.