I lay in bed curled up, staring into the darkness. As the pain intensified, grief encompassed my mind, my body, my whole being.
I prayed silently that, if possible, God would not take away the little one that was growing inside me. I also fervently prayed that if He was to take this little one from us, we could humble ourselves to accept His will. I prayed that we could give up our own plans and trust in His wisdom.
I soon heard a rasping sound behind the door. Someone slowly hauled a chair to the door, climbed on top of it and pressed down the door handle. The door opened a crack and let in some light. Our 18-month-old peeked in. When I put out an arm, the child came quickly down from the chair, climbed into my bed and snuggled up to my body. Breathing lightly, she brought her face right next to mine.
Despite my pain and worry, I felt profound comfort and gratitude. Hugged by my little one, I remembered all the good things that had been given to us by the Heavenly Father. Our daily life is full of tenderness, important thoughts and many kinds of joy, eye contact that often contains more than any words could ever say.
In the dim morning light her small hand touched my nose, ear and cheek. “Noo-se, ee-ar, mummy.” I thought that whatever was meant to happen, the Heavenly Father could and would help us get over it.
The scan I had a couple of days later showed that the tiny baby had left us. The nurse recorded miscarriage in her computer. My husband and I held hands when we came out of the hospital into a sunny fall day. The sun shone more brightly than it had for a long time. I strongly felt that our little one was in a good place, and that we would get over our grief.
On the evening of All Saints’ Day I lit a candle and watched its quiet beauty. We talked about the miracle that brought us joy for such a short time. We knew that, although the baby’s body was still very small, just a few centimeters long, his or her soul was ready and redeemed to be free by God.
In my mind I am still saying farewell to you, little one. I do not want to wonder what you would have been like, or who you would have resembled most. I want to think that you had a perfect life, measured to be complete by the Heavenly Father.
The words of the Bible touch me: “You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You
because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made.” I want to believe that the lives of us all, even the smallest ones, are in the Heavenly Father’s hands. I want to think that even the very short life of this baby did not end prematurely.
Text: Anne Lindfors
Translation: Sirkka-Liisa Leinonen
You will find the original finnish blog post here.
Koronaviruspandemia on heikentänyt merkittävästi maailman talousnäkymiä. Talouden alamäki on nopea ja jyrkkä, mutta toiveissa on, ettei se jäisi kovin pitkäksi. Vaikka notkahdus jäisi vain muutamaan kuukauteen, sen seuraukset tuntuvat pitkään ja vaikuttavat yritysten ahdingon kautta yksittäisten ihmisten elämään eri puolilla maailmaa.