Thinking, that's All: Letting Go

A generous thank you to Bounty for encouraging the pouring out of my heart by sponsoring this piece. 

I've let go of trying to figure out why.

Why I'm not waddling around in the final days of being large and swollen with child.

Why my earliest signs of pregnancy were my last ones. 

Why we've not been counting down the time left in my pregnancy week by week and day by day, especially now that we're in the thick of my due week.

Why we lost not just one baby in September, but then, you, too, in December.

I guess why doesn't matter so much anymore because a reason wouldn't make it feel right anyway.

A reason wouldn't make arms that wanted to hold you feel fuller, more satisfied.

It wouldn't make me more OK with the fact that sometimes pregnancies end unexpectedly and sometimes mothers don't get to hold their babies outside of the womb this side of Eternity.

And it wouldn't make my heart grieve any less the loss, the promise, the hope of you here in life as we know it.

The resignation to resting in the unknown doesn't mean, though, that I don't

give thought to whether your hair would shimmer coppery-red against dark locks when sunlight presses into it like mine, like your brothers'

that I don't long to see father, your brothers marvel over you

that I don't wonder what you could have given to a needy world.

Just because I'm no longer lingering in the why, small one, doesn't mean I don't remember.

It just means that I'm refusing to let you become synonymous with loss

because you haven't been lost.

You haven't been misplaced

or forgotten. 

I know you dwell in Light I can't yet imagine. 

And I know that instead of me welcoming you into my world today, this week

one day, you'll be there welcoming me into yours, His.

A generous thank you to Bounty for encouraging the pouring out of my heart by sponsoring this piece.