Today, my due date, on the day we were meant to welcome Emma Rose into this world, I know this to be true – I am a mother. I carried my child in my womb. I felt her move and tumble and kick within me. I prayed for her daily. I spent 16 hours in labor and gave birth to my precious girl. And I loved her with every fiber of my being.
And yet, I don’t hold my baby in my arms. I don’t have a nursery in my home. I don’t wake in the middle of the night to calm my crying child.
Instead, I hold my baby in my heart. Instead, I have an empty room that was meant to be filled with all of her belongings. Instead, I wake in the middle of the night in tears over the child I’ve both loved and lost.
Many people don’t know what to say to us. Some don’t want to upset us, some are uncomfortable with our grief, and some think that we must have moved beyond our loss by now – that’s okay. Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts and ramblings as I find solace in writing my heart. And to those who have reached out to us consistently and prayed for us from the beginning, we are also eternally thankful.
And with each passing day, it’s more and more evident that our Emma Rose did not live and die in vain.
In my moments of weakness, I often pray, “God, where are you in the loss of our baby girl? How can you possibly redeem this brokenness and use it for good?”
And yet, I see his hand in every tear of grief, in every moment of gratitude – He is here in the midst of it.
And as for our Emma Rose? Though her life was short, she has fulfilled her purpose. She has taught Craig and I to love deeper, to embrace the storm, to trust God in the midst of our most difficult tragedies. And that even the smallest footprint can leave an imprint on this world.
“There is no footprint so small that it does not leave an imprint on this world.”