I've been reading a lot of blogs lately - really beautiful, wonderful blogs written by Christian women who share their faith, their fears, their joys and their sorrows and all of them have babies, lots and lots of babies. Most of these women are a lot like me - they like to garden, craft, read, I'd say that most of them fall into that hippie - mother earth category. We're all striving to follow and listen to and for God. We're all working to be nurturing, creative, constantly growing, possessing all the fruitful characteristics of 1 Corinthians 13:4. But what if the most womanly biological function - the one thing that completely sets us apart from the male species - is something you are unable to do? What if you can't create a baby?
I can't speak for other women, but I can speak for myself and sometimes I easily deal with it and other times it makes me want to crumble into a million little pieces. Sometimes I rejoice in other women, watching them waddling around our church, beautiful, swollen bellies - and at our church, there are a lot of beautiful, swollen bellies! Sometimes I am jealous and I have to stop and pray and ask God to calm my aching heart and give me joy.
My own experience has been two miscarriages. The first miscarriage was at 5 1/2 months and I had to deliver a beautiful baby boy who never took his first breath or opened up his little lips, pink gums showing, tiny tongue wagging, screaming his way into this world. His name is Elias Kirch Wommack and his birthday is coming up - July 11th - he would be 4 years old. Instead he was cold, cute and slightly purple. I held him in my arms and I cried and the thoughts going through my mind were: 1. I didn't know it was possible to love anything as much as I loved that little boy and 2. That I wanted to die. All the sudden I no longer had him growing in my belly. I didn't have any little person to plan for or decorate for, I wasn't going to get the baby shower, I wasn't going to see if he had my eyes and my husband's curly hair, I wasn't going to get to waddle around and tell all the other women about my delivery and how long I was in labor, because who wants to hear a delivery story about a child that wasn't alive when his body came into this world?
It took me a long time to be comforted. It took me a long time to realize that one day I will see him and I will love on him and we will be together in heaven. To this day, I'm still not sure of God's purpose in losing him. When I see the back of a little boys neck - all soft, pink skin - all I can think about is that I never got to kiss the back of that little boys neck. I never got to bath him or feed him, hug him and raise him with my husband. I never got to witness the wonder in his eyes at seeing a butterfly fluttering around in our garden or clean him up after feeding him a cherry popsicle. I never got to see him play with our dogs or build a fort with him in the living room. I never got to...
The second miscarriage was sad, but earlier on and not as horrible. It took 3 years for me to get pregnant again and we were happy and scared and older, but excited. Everything seemed to be going well until I started bleeding. I sat in the emergency room - alone, waiting and anxious. Husband driving to meet me on his way from work, friend gone to take care of babies of her own - the doctor walked in, sad look on his face and said, "I'm so sorry. There is no heartbeat." The hole opened anew and there was nothing I could do. I felt my body had betrayed me again. What is wrong with me? Have I done something and I'm being punished? Is there something wrong with me as a woman? I'm not certain I've worked through any of those questions, but I'm trying.
Truthfully, at this point I've given up on having a baby. I don't want to try, I don't want to go through the heartache. I waiver between wanting to adopt or foster and just being. Just living with my husband and our dogs and being childless. When we think of womanhood, we all probably have our own definition or characteristics we put on what 'being a woman' is, but a lot of us think that being a mother is a big part of that. I wrestle with my own womanhood. I cannot create life. I cannot complete that most amazing and wondrous act - creating another living thing. So I keep praying for understanding, for patience, for joy and for that little boy and the neck I didn't get to kiss.
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