I sat in the gas station parking lot at 10:30pm and cried. Okay, I ugly cried. Alright, I sobbed.
I had been driving the long stretch of highway between my mom's house and mine and I just couldn't hold it in any longer. Sometimes tears won't be staunched. All day I had tried to hold them at bay, barely succeeding, with a forced smile plastered on my face as I saw peoples' Mother's Day posts, looked at my three sisters' pregnancy pictures, played with my niece. The glow of new motherhood was all around. And I wanted it. I craved it with every fiber of my being and I felt like it had been stolen from me.
Two months ago I was in the emergency room with a doctor nervously telling my husband and I that our baby was dead. That I would likely pass "the tissue" within a couple weeks. That he would give me a prescription pain killer for the contractions.
But there was nothing that could numb the pain of watching my child bleed out into the toilet.
Two days later I sat in the bathroom at 4am wracked with pain, shaking as I continuously hemorrhaged and passed huge bits of tissue. Each one I had to look at. Had to see if i could recognize my baby. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, heart of my heart. My husband called the ER. Talked nervously with the doctor, then bandaged me up and sped to the hospital. I continued to pour out blood. They had me sign a transfusion permission form. Put a bracelet on me with my blood type. I was rushed into an emergency D&C.
I woke up several hours later in the recovery room empty. Empty womb. Empty heart. Empty arms.
And on Mother's Day I sat in that mostly empty parking lot and felt so very empty still.
My Mom named me after Hannah in the Bible. If you aren't familiar, she is a woman who couldn't conceive but desperately wanted a child. Scripture says she "wept bitterly" and "poured out her soul to the Lord.. praying out of her great anguish and grief" (1 Sam 1:15,16). She asked God for a son and promised that if she were to conceive she would give him over to the Lord all of the day's of his life.
She came before God with her desires, her grief, her anguish, her tears. She wasn't afraid to ask for the desire of her heart but she also came with open hands. With the knowledge that nothing really belonged to her. Every child is a gift from God and ultimately to God each child belongs.
My child belongs to God. My baby is in the arms of heaven. Quite literally I gave my little one over to serve the Lord all of his/her days. Like my namesake I have come before the Lord in my anguish and grief and asked through bitter tears for the chance to have another child. For the chance to hold him/her in my arms on this side of eternity. And this I know: The Lord is a good Father. As I love my child in heaven and crave the chance to love another child here on earth, so does God love us. So does He hear my cries and listen to my desires.
To all you mamas that sat in your own gas station parking lots and cried out with the pain of your empty arms this Mother's Day-
It is okay to let God know your anguish and grief. It is great to ask him for the desires of your heart. And ultimately remember this: He is a good Father. He will care for you, and He will care for your little one.