The Missing Birthday

I woke up at 3:30 a.m. this morning to feed Thomas and couldn't get back to sleep.  Despite sleeping through practical tornadoes the night before, for some reason, tonight, I was wide awake.  As I began to pray about some things on my mind, I included an upcoming due date of a loved one that has been heavy on my heart this month.  As I was praying for that situation to somehow make sense - any kind of sense at all - I remembered that this is the end of February.  Specifically, today is February 22, and although I haven't done anything to commemorate this date in about 4 years, today is the missing birthday in our family.  The due date of a baby we never got to meet or hold.  A little one who we should be throwing a Frozen party for today.  A cake that should have 5 candles on it. 
I remember thinking at that first ultrasound that God was playing a cruel joke on me.  I knew in my heart that the character of God was one of love, and that statement couldn't possibly be true.  But as I looked at the still and lifeless ultrasound screen, I could not wrap my brain around why God would bless us with a surprise pregnancy, only to take it away a short time later.  Why would a loving and merciful God give someone He loved such an amazing, wonderful, and joy-filled gift, and then snatch it away for no apparent reason?
As I've walked through motherhood over the years, I've seen even worse.  Our situation, (an early miscarriage), can not be compared to a still birth or the loss of a child you've cared for over a period of years.  For me, there has been comfort in not really knowing what I lost that day.  Except for the fact, that when I look at Christa or Abby Kate or Elizabeth or Thomas, I get a pretty good glimpse of what is missing.  And I know that it is a huge, gaping, hole.
But, occasionally, I pay special attention to Abby Kate.  Bright, spunky, confident, hilarious, perfect-for-our-family, Abby Kate.  I can not imagine life, or our family, without Abby Kate!  The other night, I was reading an American Girl Doll  book to the girls at bedtime.  In the story, the characters were attending a luau in Hawaii, and learning to hula dance.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Abby Kate quietly waving her hands, hula-dancing with her arms in dramatic, Abby Kate-fashion as I read.  That's my Abby Kate, and she adds an indescribable amount of joy to our family.  Abby Kate will turn five in September.

If we didn't have a missing birthday today in our family, our family would, right now, be missing out on Abby Kate.  And we would have no idea what a loss that was.

This is where I always get stuck - when I allow myself to feel the loss of our Teeny-Bear, and then feel the joy of our "happy ending" with Abby Kate (and Elizabeth and Thomas).  For me, it's a beautiful picture of God's grace and mercy and everything eventually working out wonderfully just as "God ordained it."  It's been a beautiful reminder over the years that even though our weeping "lasted for night," joy did come "in the morning."  But if I didn't have Abby Kate, would I feel that same way?  Could I believe those biblical promises and proclaim their truth with such certainty?  What about the moms who pray and trust and say and do all the "right things" and have only one child and multiple losses that follow?  What about the mothers out there who struggle with infertility and who never get to experience the grace and joy of a healthy pregnancy?  What about the moms who end their reproductive years with an empty cradle and a half-filled heart?  Who rejoice and give thanks for their healthy children, but who never have a "rainbow baby" to be a living, breathing, tangible, bright ray of sunshine after a dark night?  Where is their "joy in the morning?"

While I don't have words for them, the Lord does.

"Thought the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold, and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.  God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places."
Habakkuk 3:17-19

"For in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part."
2 Corinthians 8:2

"More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation."
Romans 5:11

"But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed."
1 Peter 4:13

"So also, you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you."
John 16:22

I find a glimpse of an answer to these questions in the example God Himself set for us.  Right before Jesus was to be crucified, He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane that God, if it was "His will" would "take this cup" away.  I picture Jesus begging with tears to His own Father that there could be another way... a happier earthly ending.  Just as I picture hurting and confused mothers begging the Lord to show favor and fill their home with children.  Just as I begged for the ultrasound to be different when we went back a week later.  And God, in His infinite wisdom, and His LOVE for US told His own, perfect Son who did and said everything right, "no."  Jesus was crucified.  The curtain was torn.  Death was conquered.  Salvation was offered to each of us.

Delivering and raising each of my children has, so far, been an amazing experience filled with too much joy for words.  Somehow, though, I think meeting the baby I lost right after I meet my Savior will be even better.

Sometimes we get a rainbow to hold here on earth.  Other times, our treasure awaits us in heaven.

Missing you today, Teeny-Bear.

"Store up your treasures in heaven; for where your treasure is, there your heart will also be."
Matthew 6:20