Our Un-pictured Child: Miscarriage

My blog posts are typically full of photos of my children - their birthday parties, their swimming lessons, at museums and parks, or playing with each other in those rare moments of sibling affability.

Today, though, I'd like to dedicate internet space to a child of mine who will never have their face appear on this blog. I've been mourning the child we won't meet or hold or know, but today my body has decided to move on and I finally forced myself to try to as well.  

This child will never sit in time out or have his bum spanked. He will never have a parent raise their voice to him or accidentally laugh when he was serious. 

This child will instead have the perfect parent. Isaiah 64:8, "But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand." God created our child by hand (Psalm 139:13, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb"), he then brought our child to Heaven.

This child will never feel embarrassed in front of his friends, or feel left out of a group and lonely. He will never join the wrong crowd, or forget his homework or band uniform and not be allowed to participate. 

This child will instead be surrounded by others who have also had a place prepared for them in Heaven. John 14:2-3, "My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."

This child will never have his heart broken or fret about unemployment. He will never forget to pay a bill on time, get pulled over, or face a critical illness. 

This child will never feel pain. Not emotional nor mental nor physical. Revelation 21: 3-4, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore." This child is already dwelling with God - he doesn't even have to wait until God dwells with us on earth.

Do *I* hurt, though? So much. My baby doesn't hurt, but I do. I grieve. But "'My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways' declares the Lord" (Isaiah 55:8), and I know that despite the fact that this would NOT be my way, it is His way, and He has a plan for me and this child that did not involve him being born to me. Jeremiah 29:11, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" I will still continue to grieve, no doubt. I don't think I'm completely done crying yet. Hearing about the similar pain of friends and family will bring the pain back, but I KNOW that I will see this child in Heaven one day. I may not hold him, rock him, nurse him, clothe him, sooth him, care for him, but I will see him again in a place of perfection. 

So my precious baby, you are not pictured on my blog today, your photos won't hang on our walls, and your toddler art work won't decorate the playroom, but you've made a mark on my heart. You won't be someone's best friend or their first crush. You won't be someone's spouse, parent, or boss, but you've impacted me deeply. You're my child and I will see you again. I love you.