He Remembered

     I hugged him and held him tightly. I thought I would cry, but the tears didn’t come. A dark ache throbbed somewhere  deep inside, a silent cry wailed and echoed off the walls of my empty heart.

      My very soul felt anguished, but I did not bleed. The scar beat, like a heart, with the empty throb of tortured grief.

       The tears have dried up. The deep, inward wound is knotted and tied, bleeding no more. The grief has left a scar. Behind the daily smile and the laugher, flow silent, unseen tears that ache and throb with the pulsation of a dream.

       And he remembered. He remembered that a year ago I clawed my way through heart-rending anguish and screamed at the world and asked God “Why?” a thousand times because my arms were empty. He remembered that the miracle life I’d felt flutter inside,  twisting and turning my insides upside down with momentary illness, had flowed out of me in a rush of ugly blood. He remembered how I’d wailed like never before and asked him, wild-eyed, “WHY would God would give a barren, infertile woman a baby for six weeks?” He remembered the bitter anger that curled my lip and raised my eyebrow and tortured my soul.

         On Mother’s Day 2011, he remembered when no one else did, that I WAS and AM a mother. In his own quiet way, he slipped some presents under my pillow and poured me a glass of sparkling grape juice and smiled with his eyes. And I saw his own pain and his own longing riddled in the depths of his creamy brown iris.

          He held me quietly and it was just what my parched soul needed… his arms around me, telling me that he loved me – baby or not. He understood, with his touch, that the pain feels more keen a year later, fueled only by the gruesome memory of death.

            Somewhere my soul finds the breath to say “thank-you” for six weeks and the sovereignty of God. Somewhere my heart finds the audacity to hope in the face of the impossible. And I smile, because he remembered.

            I am beautifully captivated by the truth that I worship the Giver of Life. I do not understand, I do not have answers, I do not know. But I am redeemed. Slowly but certainly, He turns my heart and fills me with joy unspeakable. He gives my soul wings to fly – to soar.  

             The scar remains – an unforeseen testament to the beauty of redemption. God taking the ugly, scarred remains of hope and birthing something unexplainable and impossible from the womb of pain.

               There’s a trunk of dreams and plans and hopes that He knows about and hears. He doesn’t forget either.

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8 thoughts on “He Remembered

  1. Beautiful! I’m glad you wrote this. I hope others will see, read, and remember that you and many other women, deserve to be honored too. Being a mother doesn’t only mean having a baby in your arms. We must not forget the ones who are mothers-at-heart and yet cannot.

  2. Renee-I thought of you yesterday but words failed me. You are a mother and will always be a mother. I am delighted that your husband ministered to your soul! Your post is very touching…thanks for sharing your heart!

  3. Renee, I had to think of you yesterday to, I know exactly what you are going thru…I cryed because my arms are empty but I love to think I am a Mom to 4 babies in “HEAVEN”!!! I love what you wrote & how you wrote!!! Your open heart melts my heart,you are such an encouraging woman!!! May the Lord continue to Bless you in unspeakable ways!! Love you~Carrie

  4. This is beautiful. I found your website thru a friend and as I read, I remembered my heart crying the same way a few short years ago. I have 3 beautiful children now, but I’ll never forget those dark, lonely times of being a Mother, yet being Motherless! How well I remember how hard it is!! -Praying God will soothe your aching heart!!

  5. Renee….Happy Mother’s Day….I thought of you yesterday that was why I called you….I love you so much and want you to know that I am thinking and praying for you and can not wait to see you next month……Love you Diane!!

  6. I love you, Renee! Yesterday I sat in my parent’s church, seeing a mother with children around her and a son in heaven and another woman who is in your situation. I thought of you and of my other friends who wait for heaven to hold their baby in their arms. My experience of joy in my sons mingles with your pain.

  7. Dear, sweet Renee, This has got to be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. You write so well!!! First, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this about you. But I can relate. It’s a heart-wrenching boat to be in. Two Mother’s Day’s ago I felt the same way. I lost my first baby at the end of April. I went in for my first prenantal appointment and time stood still while they looked for a heartbeat. I thought I was 11 weeks along, but the baby died at 9. I couldn’t miscarry, so they performed a DNC a week later. A few days following, I became very sick. They hadn’t gotten all the tissues, so I went back in the hospital for yet another one. That Mother’s Day I sat at church bawling my eyes out. There was nothing I wanted more. I wrote alot afterwards and God was always there, understanding even when others thought I needed to get over it. I do have peace knowing I have two children and God is taking care of one of them. He’s the best babysitter ever! W don’t know why God allows things, but even with Riley’s challenging health issues, I trust He know’s what He’s doing and that He loves Riley more than I ever could. He’s a good God. I found comfort and understanding in the verse where it says, Rain falls on the good and the evil. We’re living in the consequences of sin and we see and experience that everywhere. Again Renee, I’m so sorry for your anguish. Happy Mother’s Day, sweet Mommy! ❤

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