Missing Shalem

I haven't been feeling very motivated today. It's one o'clock and I'm still in my pajamas. I forgot that my due date is coming up. According to my calculations I was due December 6th. I told people December 9th because that's what my midwife would go by. I didn't have a specific date in mind; I just knew it would be early December. It could be any day now. I know it wasn't meant to be, but I can't help letting my mind wander to that parallel reality where my baby lives.

Meredith helped me drop my defenses and start to grieve the way I need to. Earlier today I was lying down resting and she came to cuddle with me. I told her I was sad because the baby would have been born sometime around now. She had some questions about how big he/she would be, but there was no sadness. She has gradually stopped bringing up the babies and when she mentions them now it is in a casual context. She has found acceptance. She has the benefit of a simple faith unclouded by too much human reason. She brought me some dinosaur toys and asked if I wanted to play. We started playing and she said, "This is what we would be doing if you were in labor right now. You would be lying down and I would be here playing with you." I think she was remembering when I actually was in "labor" this past Mother's Day. That is pretty much what we did that day: she brought me toys, and I played between contractions. Her little comment brought some tears. Not too many, but enough that I knew I was in touch with the big "what if" that brings so much pain; the "what if" I need to visit sometimes.

A little later, Meredith found me crying. She asked what was wrong and I told her I was sad about the baby. She said, "You have me, ya know. You don't have to be sad about the baby because you still have me." I held her and told her I was sooo glad I have her. I told her I was still sad about the babies because my heart grew new places for them. She wanted to know where those places were so I said they were like imaginary containers full of love and I had one for each child. She still didn't seem satisfied. I don't ever want her to feel like she's not enough. How could I explain? While we were eating, one of our cats was begging at the table. We have two cats, Tigger and Emily who are both important members of the family. I said, "You love Tigger and Emily don't you?" "Yes." Then I asked if she would be sad if one died, but not the other and of course she said "yes". I told her that's a little bit like what it's like to have kids and why I can love her and miss the others. Then we started talking about the different plans Jesus had for each of them. The two babies went to heaven right away, but He wanted her to live. We talked about the other plans God might have for her someday. Today she thinks she will be a mother and a zookeeper who lets her kids feed the animals.

After talking to Meredith and seeing things through her eyes, I wondered what my little Shalem would say if he/she could talk to me now. "Why are you crying Mommy? I'm safe here with Jesus. We'll all be together again, you'll see." I imagine my Shalem is a little like Meredith with a simple faith that doesn't question God's goodness and His promise to make everything new. I would explain that my heart is learning to let go because we can't be together now. I'm still on the side of heaven where death stings and I can't see how it all works out.