April 13th. I had been anticipating that date with both sacredness as well as dread. It was the should-have-been due date of our first baby, Lavender. For months, I saw the calendar bringing that day closer and closer. For the weekend of our due date, my husband and I decided to go to the mountains for a long weekend away.
I wanted to get away. I needed to get away—to have the freedom to feel what I needed to feel and be away from my life and routine and environment. Going somewhere new and unfamiliar felt fitting because that’s how my emotions felt—new and unfamiliar.
We spent the weekend resting. We rested our hearts and minds. We allowed ourselves to wander around the small mountain town with no objective or destination. We ate lots of food and drank lots of coffee. We drove through a gorgeous National Park, watching herds of deer slowly graze through the valley without rush or worry.
My family was so precious to acknowledge my baby’s life that weekend. I knew they were thinking of us, praying for us and grieving with us—because they too were grieving the loss of a niece/nephew and a grandchild. They understood.
But then, that afternoon, I received an unexpected text from a church friend that I hadn’t seen in a year.
She had known about my loss months prior—and she made it a point to text me the day of our due date.
It sent shockwaves to my soul. Someone outside of my immediate circle remembering my baby’s life? It was such a gift to my soul during my weekend of grief and remembrance.
My heaven baby’s due date reminded me of 3 things:
1. My baby’s life is real.
Time had felt like it was separating me and my baby. People asked how I was doing less and less. And people very rarely mentioned by baby. Receiving texts acknowledging my baby and my motherhood reminded me that by baby was real—even though he/she was in heaven.
2. My baby’s due date will always be tender and special.
Going away to celebrate my baby’s life and allow myself time to grieve in new ways was healing for my heart. But it wasn’t just that first due date that was difficult—every year when the date arrives, by heart becomes tender and waves of emotions hit me. I think that will be my normal for the rest of my life.
3. God’s faithfulness doesn’t lessen as time goes on.
During the immediate moments in the ER after we lost our baby, we felt the presence of God and His comfort stronger than we ever have. As my grief has transformed and new layers surface, His faithfulness remains steady. Although many grief-seasons have been painful, I have never experienced one of those seasons without glimpses of the Lord’s intentional care and personal love for my momma heart.
And oh, momma. He cares for you too. So deeply, so thoroughly. Even though you may question His love or care for you. Even though you may be angry. He isn’t afraid or offended by your questions and anger. He wants you to allow Him into those places of your heart—the places that are shut off and empty. The places that you feel like you can just “deal” with it yourself. The places you feel like you don’t need Him at all. Or the places you are too afraid to open up to Him because it feels too scary and too vulnerable—and you’re afraid He won’t be there.
He is there. He is gentle. He is good. And He is trustworthy. I promise you, you can trust Him with every shattered piece of your heart.
You are loved, momma. So fiercely and fully.
Where are you in your journey? I would love to connect here.
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