Mercy, mercy!

Mercy, have mercy!  I am tapping out.  Someone please take my place and be Sarah today.  I am tired, I am weary, I am angry and today, I just don't feel like being me.

Matthew and I have been taking part in a potential adoption.  The birth mother already has 3 daughters and knew she could not take care of another child.  She made the courageous choice to keep the pregnancy, give the child a chance and to make us parents.  Of course, despite our adoption and family history, we were excited, much calmer and very aware that the birth mother may change her mind, but still excited.  We were hoping for a girl.  We realized we were not ready for a boy after the loss of our own boys and experiencing the failed adoption of twin boys.  Bringing in an infant boy to our family would open up a new level of grief and we were ready for joy and happiness for a change...and a baby girl.  I daydreamed of proudly bringing my new baby girl, due to be born in April, to my sister's May wedding.  I was planning to buy her a pretty little dress for the wedding complete with ruffles and poofy sleeves and place a little, delicate bow in her hair, if she had any.  I imagined slow dancing with her and Matthew at the wedding reception or lovingly gazing upon her and other family members as they held and cherished her.

The evening of January 27th, we received a phone call from a friend of the birth mother.  She was sobbing and the first words out of her mouth, "Sarah, I am so sorry I have to tell you this.  The baby passed away.  There was no heartbeat.  I am so sad.  A____ started bleeding at work, was rushed to the hospital and the baby had no heartbeat."  I was stunned.  Blind sided.  Sucker punched.  And left alone.  It took a good 10 minutes for the news to sink in.  A third child dead.  Next, uncontrollable weeping from me and Matthew with a blank look on his face and me noticing he was turning the world and his emotions off.

With tears subsiding came raging anger at God.  "How could you do this?!?  A___ put her faith in you, decided to keep the child and look what you did.  God, I need you to show me your goodness because right now, I am struggling to believe in it."  That was my plea for the next couple of days.  Thankfully, He did show, but not in a way I would have ever guessed.  

In the coming days, we learned the baby was born on January 24th at 30 weeks gestation and we decided to name the baby Miracle.  We initially did not know the gender but that did not matter.  My child, that my heart was anticipating, was not in my arms, not even in the same city as us.  This child was never held, kissed, told "I love you" and was not going to receive a memorial service from us and have physical remains placed next to Ethan and Samuel.  

Every time I have learned of a baby or babies that needed a home and we were chosen as their potential parents, a piece of my heart has automatically been claimed by these children.  With our first two potential adoptions, the children ended up staying with their birth families.  This was painful for us, but we knew that the children were with people that loved them, which caused my heart to heal differently since I knew the children were alive and being looked after.  The experience of the loss of this child has been completely different knowing Miracle is now deceased.  I am a grieving mother all over again.  The space in my heart this baby filled is still there but the space is no longer bright and sunny, but filled with sorrow and grief.  I know most people do not understand this.  Their thoughts and response are one of sadness but they do not understand that my heart started mothering this child even though Miracle was connected to another.

This week, we learned Miracle was a girl.  Happy birthday my sweet baby girl.  You are loved, cherished and will be celebrated.