For When Your Heart Breaks

The house was dark this morning.  Six fifteen was earlier than I had wanted to rise but the baby whined and wanted his pacy.  So I rolled out of bed, turning the baby monitor down so that only the neon green light flashed but no sound was heard.  Silently walked to the kitchen as dawn was breaking.  Little by little light began to flood through the windows and I reached over to turn on the coffee pot.  As I looked up and out the window that's directly above the kitchen sink, to my early morning surprise was a momma cow and her newborn baby calf.  Not that it is unusual to see cows and calves in the pasture around our house.  But I haven't seen a newborn calf that close to the fence since we've lived here.  As I watched out the window, the newborn calf tried desperately to stand on its wobbly little legs.  Taking a step here and there, it plopped to the ground again.  And I was ecstatic to show the boys this precious sight as they each rose and came sleepy eyed into the kitchen.

I was no less excited when we returned home from church this afternoon to find another calf was being delivered.  But something wasn't right.  The momma cow had been in hard labor for hours, not unusual, but her water had not broke.  The farmer came over to check her and had to deliver the stillborn calf almost losing the momma in the process.  It was like a train wreck and I was heartbroken over a baby calf.  I could not move my bare feet off the lawn and back into the house for nothing.

Now, I've given birth three times.  Beautiful, healthy babies.  And I know, very well, the pain involved.  Unlike some, I decided I'd just rather not have an epidural.  With each child the pain was different but no less intense.  With each child I've had the joy and privilege of bringing them home from the hospital, spending sleepless nights catering to their very basic needs, enjoying their first words and first steps and watching their very different personalities come through.

But I can't help but think about Peanut.  I've been pregnant four times.  The first ending in a miscarriage.  I was devastated. The longing of my heart was for a child and I walked away crushed.  When we saw that little tiny heart beating on the monitor I was shocked and thrilled.  And we called that sweet little life that was forming Peanut.  Feeling the pain, disappointment, hurt and humiliation was far greater than I even dared to imagine when we realized we had lost what was precious to us.  It was a train wreck that I couldn't escape. 

Maybe you've felt that pain of heart break or maybe you're on the outside and can't turn away but have no idea what to do or say.  Let me say from experience, the outpouring of love and encouragement from those around me both in word and deed was wonderfully overwhelming.   More therapeutic than anything has been the opportunity to share my story.  While the wounds may still be fresh, it is increasingly difficult to share.  However, the power of a testimony can make a difference in the life of another.  Share hope where someone else may need it most.