My hand rests on my tummy
Where you rest and grow,
Where your tiny heart beats in beautiful rhythm—
Only muscles and skin between us.
Your tiny frame is not hidden
Although you seem to be formed in secret.
God has knit you while I carry you
And your daddy whispers to you of his love.
We have dreams for you.
Life in the country, siblings,
Church and books and Christmas gifts,
Growing up and learning and being ours forever.
We know not the ways of the Lord,
His thoughts are not like ours.
His plans for you are set in stone.
What He has ordained surely shall be done.
Dreams of heaven.
Streets of gold.
Joining your older siblings.
My tears are bottled, the psalmist says.
And how big is the bottle?
Oh, when shall I reach the brim?
It has been a dozen bottles—no, fifty.
Is that beautiful heart still keeping its rhythm?
Are you spinning and growing and exploring my womb?
Or have you already flown,
Are already dancing in Paradise?
You aren’t even gone yet
But I miss you already.
Dreams unfulfilled, hopes crushed,
Arms empty, belly barren.
Mommy feels forsaken.
Daddy feels helpless.
Big brother aches for your company.
Our family is incomplete.
You can not imagine how much we love you,
But we hope you have sensed it through these weeks.
And we never will forget how much you impacted us,
God has used you in mighty ways in your short but faithful life.
We pull out the psalter for reminders of the Strong Tower
The One who sustains us and gives us grace.
He will strengthen and bless your family here
Though we weep and we mourn and we falter.
~by your ever-loving mommy, Melissa Joy~