Malachi means “My Angel” and Jude means “Praise.”
He is our son. He was not a “cluster of cells” or just a clump of fetal tissue, he was a living, breathing, boy with a heart and a soul and the most perfect 10 fingers and 10 toes. He was fearfully and wonderfully made. God knew Malachi’s story before He even formed him in my womb.
People who have not experienced a pregnancy loss might think naming a baby we never “knew” is strange. The thing is, I did know him. I do know him. We saw the positive pregnancy test. I felt the morning sickness. I felt the utter exhaustion. I felt those first flutters. Every time I would eat, he would move in my belly and it was unmistakable. I heard his heartbeat. He was real.
He is real.
And an incredible nurse (who I need to find and thank) gave us Malachi’s hand prints and foot prints. When I saw them, when my husband saw them, we lost it. Completely lost it. The detail in the hands, the life line, the finger prints, the perfect little toes… if THAT is not a display of our Almighty God, then I don’t know what is. I do not know how anyone can look at those hands and feet and tell me God does not exist.
I do not know yet what the lesson in all this is. I do not know yet what God is trying to teach me.
I do know, that Elijah’s life and Malachi’s life, have impacted more people in 5 months than many people impact in a life time. I believe that God is using their short lives to bring Him glory. I believe that.
Yes, there are days when I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. Grief and anxiety are crippling at times. But God. He weeps with me and sits with me in my pain and my anxiety and my grief. When I don’t know what to say, when I don’t know what to think, when my thoughts are all consuming and making my chest feel tighter… I just say, “Jesus, give me peace. Jesus, give me peace.”
I should be having a baby this week. This is my due date week with Elijah… and not only am I not pregnant, I’m mourning the loss of two babies.
In five months, I have birthed, and cremated, two babies. The funeral home knows my husband and I by name.
I don’t have answers yet. Our doctors and midwives are stumped. We know what happened isn’t normal and we are waiting on any sort of anything to help us know what to do next or what could be going on. It’s so unfair. It feels so unfair.
None of it is fair. It freaking sucks. And I don’t know why.
But the one thing I do know and will keep saying over and over again… is God is still good. He is so so good.