Mercy darling, how I wish you were here in my arms today. It was so much fun to anticipate a summer birthday for you, with picnics and swimming parties and sundresses with barefeet.
For myself, I am sorry that your birthday was January instead of August as we had hoped.
For you, I am thankful that you have already been dancing in Paradise for over six months and that you went from the warmness of my womb to the beauty of Heaven. You didn’t know anything but comfort and love.
For myself, I wish I could be laboring today in the hospital, groaning and screaming and pushing. I wish your Daddy could be catching you in his hands, severing the cord that once tied your little body to mine, and announcing your name to the world. I wish your Grandmama could be taking pictures and crying with me and helping me count your tiny fingers & toes. I wish your Grandpapa could give you a clean bill of health and an official stamp of redhead approval, pray a blessing over you, and wrap you up like a little burrito. I wish your big brother could be meeting you today, poking you all over, saying bebe repeatedly to you & about you, fighting jealousy, loving on you, protecting you, kissing you.
For you, I wish nothing. I would never wish you away from praising our Father. I would never wish you back into this world of pain, sorrow, sin, and death.
I miss you, sweetheart, my own little Mercy. Mommy’s heart lives in a dichotomy of sorrow & rejoicing. Some days the contrast is starker. Today is one of those days.
My womb has ached for you for almost seven months. Today it is my arms and breasts that ache.