My Big Girl

I want to take a break from writing about myself and tell you about my daughter Meredith. If you know her, you might be wondering how she's adjusting to the news. I think she's doing about as well as any five year old could with this information. We didn't tell her about the pregnancy until five days before I found out about the miscarriage. For some reason it felt like the right time to tell her. We were so excited and we wanted to share it with her and we didn't think there was any reason to keep it from her after we heard the heartbeat.

She was more cautious about getting excited this time, but she eventually warmed up to the idea and started fretting about sharing her toys and whether or not she would get enough attention. One day she said "I hope this one gets to be born and doesn't go to heaven first." I told her I really hoped so too. I told her I thought this one will probably be fine and that we were praying every day. I also talked about how Jesus loves us and always does the right thing for everyone and if this baby does go to heaven, He will help us heal. She didn't like hearing that. She wanted to hear that the baby would definitely be born healthy. That's when I wished we hadn't told her. I started to pray more earnestly that the baby would be okay for her sake. I rested in knowing that God works all things for good, even potential parenting mistakes.

On Friday when we found out we had lost the baby, Meredith was the first thought that came to mind. I prayed, "LORD, give her wisdom beyond her years to make sense of this." Jeremy and I decided to tell her right away in the car and then take her out for ice cream. We wanted her to feel reassured that we were going to be supportive of each other and there are better days to come. She spotted the cooler with her non-dairy "ice cream" right away which put her in a good mood. I savored the last few moments before I had to break the news. We told her we had an ultrasound which told us the baby is in heaven already. She got a far off look in her eyes. I asked if she had any questions or wanted to talk about it. She shifted her attention back to the toy puppies she was playing with, so we played with puppies and read Doctor Seuss on the way to get ice cream.

When we got home, Meredith got out her two baby dolls which she rarely plays with. She fed, changed and rocked her babies. The rest of the night she was just a little extra hyper and silly. I knew her confusion was coming out as nervous energy. At bedtime Meredith asked if I would rest with her for awhile. I love snuggling with her at bedtime. We talk about whatever is on her mind. She tells me funny things that happened through the day or things she learned in school. Sometimes she has serious questions about life. That night, I asked if she wanted to talk about anything. She cried into my shirt, "At first I was happy we were going to get ice cream, but now I'm sad that the baby died and I didn't get very much juice today." (She tends to lump negative experiences together). I told her I was sad too. I told her it is normal to be sad when something sad happens and crying helps to get the sadness out. She cried a little longer and then said something that caught me off guard. "I think the next baby will go to heaven before it's born too." I wondered the same thing, but I wasn't ready to think about it. I reminded her that she was born healthy and I told her about some other women I knew who had healthy babies after miscarriages. She cried again and I asked her what was wrong. She said "Now I'm sad that the other mommies lost their babies too". This was not going as well as I'd hoped. I was trying to encourage her and I ended up burdening her tender heart even more. I paused to pray and shifted gears a little. I talked to her about empathy. I explained how Jesus feels our pain just like she is feeling others' pain. I reminded her that the other babies are in heaven too and Jesus is healing their mommies. This helped her feel better. I told her I believed that some day she will have a brother or sister either from my body or through adoption, I just didn't know when or how. Next she tried to figure out how this baby died. She said "Maybe the baby was too old and it was time to go to heaven or maybe its heart just stopped beating." I told her I didn't know. She said "I think only the doctors know". I told her they didn't know either. She said, "I wish the doctors knew what happened so they could tell us what will happen next." "Me too!" Then she said, "I wish the babies could have seen me and not just heard me. They only saw the inside of your body." I knew God was setting me up. I could feel it. I said, "That's true. That's all they got to see in this life. But you can't even imagine what they are seeing now!" The mood shifted in the room as we let our imaginations run wild with everything we thought they are seeing in heaven. I started by telling Meredith the things the Bible tells us about. That heaven is like a golden city with mansions and beautiful gem stones everywhere. She thought of all the things that would be made of gold, like golden cars, the kind with gold paint, not real gold because they would be too heavy (She discussed this with Daddy earlier). We talked about the beautiful landscapes and sunsets and all the animals that let you pet and ride them. I told her that the best thing about heaven is that we get to be with Jesus and talk to him just like we were talking. She said, "When I get to talk to Jesus like we're talking now, I'm going to tell Him that I'm sad the babies went to heaven before they were born." I told her that He would give her a big hug, tell her He knows and wipe away all her tears. And when she gets to heaven she will know why they went to heaven and she'll be with them. By this time we had been talking for about an hour and Jeremy came in because he thought I fell asleep. I told him we were talking about heaven and he joined in imagining with us. Meredith and I talked a few more minutes and then I said, "Sad things like this remind us that heaven is our home. There is no sadness there. We're just here for a time to enjoy God's blessings and tell people about Jesus." She thought a moment and responded, "So heaven is our home and we're just living here now?" She had it. I knew she was feeling better and so was I. She snuggled in for sleep and I kissed her "good night."

I thanked God for His reassuring presence with us. He showed me that He is perfectly capable of guiding Meredith through this messed up world we live in. I felt angry and incompetent to help her navigate these big issues at such a young age, but God reminded me that He has His hand on her and I'm so thankful for that. When I first struggled with my insecurities as a parent, I stumbled upon Isaiah 40:11: "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young." This passage takes on new meaning for me as my role as a mother continues to be redefined. He understands a mother's heart. He knows the pain of letting go. He knows about loving in best interests even when it hurts. I need His gentle leading now more than ever.