My prayer this morning as I waited for the doctor, was somehow, there would be a heartbeat. I requested she try again for my sake and sadly as I knew, there was none. Even though I didn’t hear one, I was comforted as I laid my heart in God’s hands.
Fresh tears well up with each passing moment as I continue to grieve the loss of my child. I grieve the dreams that were attached so strongly to her. Each child has a purpose, no matter how long or brief they graced the earth with their presence. What took my breath away, was the realization of God’s hands in this process. Our lives are never perfect, normal, or calm though we would like them to be. If they were, what opportunity would we have to turn to God and ask Him hold our hearts in His hands. How could we be awestruck in how He works in our weaknesses? How would we know it was truly Him?
During the time of absorbing the news and trying to make sense of it all, I was comforted by so many women who have walked this painful path before me. It’s a part of life, it was nothing I did, nor was it a punishment as some like to believe. Life itself happens, it’s not in our control. We can be humble and ask God to walk with us or reject His presence. I choose to allow Him to mend my heart. I choose to see the wisdom in this process and embrace what He has in store. I know that if I give Him the pieces, He will mend it far better than I could on my own.