This entry is in part relevant to “Miscarriage” written in 1998. In that entry, I was pregnant and cramping so I wrote to my angels (naturally, who doesn’t? lol). After telling me that there was “poison in my stream” and warning that this baby wouldn’t survive, I asked, “Why does God hurt me?” The angel replied, “You are special. You would care for them all. You would love them all and lead them to peace.”
“What the fuck?! ” is how I’ve always felt about that. Of course, I would care for them all. Of course, I would love them all. And I would desperately try to lead them to peace (haven’t figured out quite what that means).
But tonight, I think I caught a glimpse of what Truth meant by “You would love them all.”
Eddie and Bandit
My youngest son is completely in love with a puppy we’re babysitting. She goes home on Tuesday, and he started crying for her in the car tonight. Then he really started sobbing because “Thinking about losing Venus reminds me of when I found out I could never hold Bandit again.”
You’ve got to understand, Eddie loved his ferret Bandit more than anyone (or anything) he’d ever loved before. Bandit was killed by our neighbor’s pit bull, and Eddie hadn’t been able to say goodbye. He wasn’t able to hold his beloved ferret ever again. His statement was heart-wrenching.
Then he said, “Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I’m not ready for another pet. It hurts too much.” Picture those big tears rolling down his cheeks…
But you know what I heard coming out of my mouth? “Oh, Eddie – you have such a big heart and so much love to give. It would be a shame for you to never share that with another pet. God knows YOU WOULD LOVE THEM ALL.”
Well. I heard it at the time and made a mental note to myself, but of course, I didn’t pause to think about it because I had a child to comfort right then. But now I do have a little time.
The angel was right. I do have a big heart, and I would never turn down the opportunity to love a child. Even if she or he hadn’t been born yet. I already loved the babies I miscarried. They were already my children. They still hold my heart just as my two growing sons do. But I miss these children I’ve never held.
I’m glad I won’t get pregnant again even if Will got that vasectomy without talking to me about it. If God had an unending string of miscarriages lined up for me because those souls had a higher purpose than to be here with me, then I’m glad I foiled that plot. Oh my. That felt really wrong to write.
If the souls of my unborn children were passed on to me BECAUSE they needed to “pass through” some sort of physical existence before going on to do better things, then I truly am blessed. And now I’m crying. It hurts so badly. Knowing I’ll know my children “later” is a sorry substitute for the lingering pain of losing them now. But thinking that maybe, just maybe, those souls, once human because of my willingness to love them all, could be doing wonderful things “behind the scenes” is truly an awesome thought.
Maybe this means that by loving my sons I am also giving them the opportunity to do wonderful things – but they get to do those things here, on earth, before graduating to the next level. Just by loving them. What could be easier?
It’s so bittersweet. I suppose I don’t get to “keep” any of my children, living on earth or somewhere else. Isn’t the greatest part of my job to prepare them to get along without me? Don’t I ultimately give all of them their wings?
I’m done crying, I think. I hope my son isn’t crying anymore either.
Featured image by MateJerry647 on Pixabay