Miscarriage and resurrection

It's been a while since I've posted, mostly because what I have to say seems to be a quip I can sum up in 140 characters. However, this week, this Holy Week, I have been thinking a lot about death and resurrection.
Last summer, we found out we were pregnant. It was quite a surprise, but something we felt God had really been preparing us for. Through so many different circumstances, we felt this was such a God thing, how could it not be an amazing thing. So we got excited. We got really excited.
But then we lost the baby. It hurt. It didn't make sense. We decided it would be good to express ourselves through letters to our unborn child. She was due to be born on April 19, and so on that day I re-read our letters that we wrote. It felt surreal to read them, almost other-worldly, but what spoke to me was the hope of resurrection. So today, as I sit pondering the death of my Savior, I still sit in the death of my unborn child, but also wait in the glory, beauty and majesty of resurrection. I decided I'd post it today, because it may speak to someone who feels that pain, or needs to know the hope that my God who died rose from the grave again, for me and for you, to restore what was broken and ugly into a glorious relationship.


Oh dearest Glory, I dreamed about you last night.  I could see your face, your smile, the cute pink dress with a bow. The way you looked up in order to see into my eyes.  With a slight tilt to your head, and innocence in your eyes. You looked to be about 4 years old, and I don’t know how, but I knew you were mine.  I miss you, and I never even got to meet you.  It makes me weep to think that you met our Creator already.  Selfish though it is, I would have liked to meet you first.  Your mommy and I are really struggling through this.  I think it’s unmet hopes.  I think it was because we were getting so excited about you.  We started imagining what it would be like to have you in our home, to have your brothers play with you, care and protect you.  Now, it’s impossible to go back to the way things were.  You are a part of us.  We miss you.  Mommy is especially sad.  I think she knew you in a way I can only imagine, but never quite understand.  I really want to help her, but in reality I don’t know exactly how.  I think she carries guilt in that somehow you not being with us anymore is her fault.  I’m praying that God’s Spirit will comfort her, and rid her of her guilt.  I don’t think it’s her fault, but convincing her of that is a tall task that I think only the Spirit can do.  
For me, I think I’m just sad.  I’m not mad at God or really asking “Why”.  I’ve had enough things happen in my life that I believe God has worked out.  The deaths in our family have often brought resurrection to me.  I pray that in God’s kingdom you are meeting your grandparents; my parents and mommy’s daddy.  We miss them too. How do we do this thing?  How do we press into losing you?  How do we deal with the emotions?  I’m so thankful it’s okay to be sad.  I’m so thankful I can feel God’s love.  But I want you to be here.  I want to hold you and play with you.  I want to see your mommy teach you what it means to be a woman.  I want to see you learn how to write and draw, listen to your voice as it changes from infant cries to babble, from indecipherable phrases to intelligent sentences.  What it would be like to watch you grow up.  It would be wonderful to see you grow into a woman.  But we’re not allowed to see that.  I wonder what you look like now, in the presence of His Majesty.  You’ve never experienced a mommy or daddy, but you get the true Father.  It blows my mind that you have never experienced hatred or jealousy, but only basked in the love of our King.  What beauty.  How could I want anything less than that for you?
Do you know why we named you Glory?  I think there are a bunch of reasons.  First, mommy loved a song called Glory Baby, about losing a child.  For me, it was about God being glorified through you.  Even though your presence in our lives was short, I pray that it will have a long-lasting impact in our view of our Father.  I want to learn more and more about who He is and who He would have me be.  There was a song we listened to on the way to the ultrasound called “Glory, Hallelujah” and that was what I kept praying.  “Glory Hallelujah. I’ve got nothing, and I’ve got everything I need.”
Oh Glory, daddy misses you.  I wish you could know our love.  i’ve realized that my heart is big enough to love more.  i’ve realized that i’ve been afraid of the change, but missed out on the love.  I’m sure you will have other brothers or sisters some day, and we will tell them about you, and about how you have changed us.
Can’t wait to meet you, but I know that Jesus has things for us to do and be about.  When our mission is complete, and he calls us home, I will worship alongside you and celebrate the maker of the cosmos, the savior of my soul, and the one who resurrects us into new life.  I love you and miss you.

Ps 62.5 -8 For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for my hope is from him. 
He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken. 
On God rests my salvation and my glory;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God. 
Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us. Selah