Empty Arms and Goodbye to Grandbaby Baby Chloe
A month ago John and I ate char burgers loaded with all the extras on our daughter and son-in-law’s back patio. After a long grey winter, it was our first taste of summer.
A happy lilt danced in Jessie’s voice.
Daisy show Mimi your new shirt.
Two-year old Daisy spins around and proudly pats her tummy.
Mimi, See my shirt?!
I scream. John jumps. Without a word, I instantly know what he is thinking.
What the heck?! is written all over his face. I smile pointing to Daisy’s shirt.
Almost on cue, cheerful shouts and peals of laughter rise loud enough for the neighbors clear across the street to hear. The shirt says . . .
I’m going to be a BIG SISTER.
Our prayers are finally answered. After a season of waiting, they’re on the cusp of something wonderful.
I get it. They held off announcing the good news until the higher-risk weeks of pregnancy had passed. And why wouldn’t they? It’s totally natural to proceed with caution after suffering a miscarriage.
The longing to grow their little family is finally on the way to being fulfilled.
That is, until today. During a routine check-up, Jessie and Chris heard those same earth shattering words I heard during my first pregnancy, “I’m not picking up a heartbeat.”
It’s hard to pinpoint the epicenter of these feelings of powerlessness.
All I know is that it hurts to see those you love hurt. The painful labor. The broken hearts. The sad ending of a precious life.
We rally as a family, doing what we can to comfort and care. Tears. Chicken soup. Flowers. Tears. Extra love hugs and 24/7 prayers.
Jesus help them. Give them hope. Comfort their hearts.
Daisy snuggles bring relief.
I know they’ll get through it. As young twenty-somethings they carried each other through the dark years after Jessie’s younger brother died following a fluke accident. Being the first ones on the scene that night, they are walking, living proof that healing can and does happen.
But that doesn’t take away the great sadness of today.
They name their little girl Chloe. It means tender green shoot.
I whisper her name as the tears stream, and I pray through the midnight hours.
It’s the name especially chosen for you, little one.
We love you, Chloe. We’re sad you left, and thankful we get to hold you in heaven.
Hug Nathan and Baby V for us.
If someone you know and love suffered a miscarriage, but you don’t quite know how to help … invite them to join us on a very special healing journey called “Healing Your Empty Arms” beginning on June 16th. Click here for details.