Christmas 2012

CHRISTMAS 2012   by   Janet Baird Weisiger


She shouted, "I did it!"

The 'Seven Layer' ingredients sat in the pyrex baking dish ready to be placed in the oven.

"Do you want me to put it in the oven?  The dish is heavy and I don't want you to burn yourself on that hot oven."  Dick was concerned.

"No, I want to do it myself!"  She responded with determination.

Dick groaned.  "I've heard that before!"

The goodies were placed in the oven without mishap and she let out a forceful "Alleluia!"

Yes, she had done it and oh, it had felt so good to be able to bake!  It was Christmas time and baking goodies was part of Christmas!

Christmas Day was a mixture of family and noise.  Neatly wrapped gifts quickly turned into piles of torn paper and bows littering the floor amidst giggles and whoops of joy.  She sat there smiling, able to laugh and pet the two chocolate labs at her feet.  This was a good Christmas, she thought.

As the adults gathered about the kitchen table sampling the luscious hors d'oeurves of warm Brie cheese and crackers, she suddenly wept.

"Do you think I'm deformed and unattractive?" she asked in a broken voice.

Five pairs of eyes stared, confusion on their faces.  "Why do you even ask that?"

She stammered and pointed to her arm and leg.  "I still can't walk well and my hand is kind of useless."

One of her daughters spoke with enthusiasm.  "Mom, how many people say you are an inspiration, how many people say your face glows, how many people say they see Jesus in your smile?"

She laughed through her sobs and thought.  Yes, she had heard those comments.  Then why did she have these moments of discouragement?

Then, the answer came loud and clear.  No one stated it but she knew.  Pride!  All her life she had gone to great energies to try to look good.  She had always known she wasn't beautiful by Hollywood standards but she had kept trying.  Now, at this time in her life, two and a half years post cancer, God showed her very pointedly what was important.  Not physical beauty, not perfect togetherness, not the best clothes or make-up, but all God wanted was to see His love show through in her.  That was His purpose in bringing her through the ravages of brain cancer.

Pride!  Yes, pride.  That ugly, self-centered word that caused her to feel clumsy, deformed, unacceptable, unwanted, unable and unworthy.  She had to let go of that pride.  So what if she couldn't walk perfectly, so what if she couldn't wash the dishes with ease and speed, so what if she had to shake hands with her left hand, so what if she took five minutes to answer the door instead of the speedy thirty seconds!  She was alive.  She had experienced intimacy with her Lord.  She now realized she had a unique opportunity to share the goodness, mercy, grace and love of God with others because she knew Him!

During the next few hours the rest of the family gathered around the table.  She felt God's presence bursting forth from within her as she laughed and joked with the teenagers.  And joy of joys...they responded to her not with disgust or revulsion but with total acceptance.

"Thank you, God," she whispered.  "You have taught me another lesson and I have willingly accepted it.  What a loving Christmas gift from You, my wonderful God."

Where is Christmas?

WHERE IS CHRISTMAS?    by   Janet Baird Weisiger    


It was December, 2010.  She sat in the wheelchair staring at the Christmas tree.  The tiny white lights gleamed cheerfully on the 5 foot tall green artificial tree, decorated with numerous hand-made ornaments.  She couldn't help smiling as she silently thanked the grandchildren who had come on Saturday to decorate the condo.

The kids had laughed and joked as they hoisted the tree from the storage area and manuevered it up the staircase.  Their excitement at unwrapping cherished ornaments lit the room with energy.  Discovering decades old family decorations caused much chatter and wonder.

     "Mommy played with this?"

     "Oh, this is sooo pretty!"

Through all their bustle and activity she sat there, unable to hang one ornament, too weak to place the nativity in a place of honor.

The decorating did not take long.  The kids packed away the bags and boxes and left.  The house was quiet again.

She looked around the room, ready and decorated for Christmas.  Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

     "I can't do anything," she whined.  "Oh, how I always loved Christmas!......Can I still love it now?"

Memories flooded her brain.  Christmas over the past decades filled with activity.  Buying precious gifts for the children, then hiding them until Christmas Day.  Inviting friends in and singing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus.

The Christmas we bought a puppy and placed her in the playpen where the children wouldn't see her until Christmas morning.
Joining with friends to sing Christmas carols through the neighborhood.

Baking tons of cookies and decorating them as stars, Christmas trees, angels, and wreaths.  Fashioning home-made gifts for neighbors, family and friends.  Singing many concerts and reveling in the joyous sounds of Christmas.  Hosting 'open houses' and making homemade eggnog with candles flickering in the windows.

Parties!  Oh, yes, parties.  Going to parties throughout the month of December!

She sighed remembering previous Christmases and knowing none of that would happen this year of 2010.

It had all changed in June.  Her once healthy body had suddenly been attacked by cancer....a frightening word, a devastating diagnosis.  Where did this come from?  How could this have hit her?  What had she done?

Yes, the oncologist told her on July 8 that she had a rare, aggressive brain cancer and she would only live for "seven weeks"!  She remembered that moment.  Much to her surprise she had responded to the doctor's dire pronouncment by saying loud and clear, "Praise God!"

The Christmas lights blurred in her vision now as she remembered that time.  Through her tears she now smiled with joy.  Why she was supposed to be dead by now.  But here she was, alive after four long months in the hospital tolerating a dozen chemotherapy sessions.  And the chemo would continue for another year!  Could she hold on?  What plan did God have for her?

Oh, yes, this Christmas was special.  In May, six weeks before the cancer diagnosis, she had seen Jesus.  He had visited her in the middle of the night with a message.  He sat on his throne, glistening with gold, holding a golden sphere in his left hand, and told her in a voice filled with power, authority and love, "You will be healed, BUT in my time frame."  The words had been visible, scrolling across in front of her and she believed.  She believed, but did not understand.  She believed, but questioned how and when.

And here she was, helplessly sitting in a wheelchair, unable to walk, unable to use her right arm, struggling to speak, emotionally unstable, crying easily, exhausted after simple tasks...... and asking, "Where is Christmas for me?"

Her eyes focused on the simple creche treasured in the family for many years.  And then she began to realize where Christmas was.  It was not in the busyness, the parties, the hectic schedule, the gift-giving, the baking.  No, Christmas was in Jesus!  Yes, only Jesus.  He had healed her, was continuing to heal her.  The MRIs were clear.  The doctors could not find any more cancer!

Her physical therapy was progressing well.  The Lord had given her determination and a positive attitude and an undying faith.  She had Jesus and that was all that mattered.

She decided right then she would spend this Christmas season of 2010 listening to Christmas music and rejoicing in Jesus.  She realized that is what He had always wanted her to do.  Christmas was right here with Him.

(I was that woman and this is my story.)

Legend of Book and Vine

"Legend of the Book and the Vine"

                            by  Janet Baird Weisiger   c2002

Once upon a time a man and his wife lived in an old stone house by a sparkling blue lake.  Every day the man and his wife climbed the long stairway to the flat roof of their house and looked out on the lake and the land and the villages surrounding their house.

 It was very beautiful.  The trees grew tall and shaded the old house from the hot summer sunshine.  The lake rippled and danced with fish and waterfowl.  The puffy white clouds skidded across the sky creating shapes of happy things.

            Wonderful animals lived in the thick woods surrounding the house.  Wild turkeys and fox wandered in the brush and sometimes a big fluffy black bear ate the berries at the edge of the forest.  In the cool evenings the deer with their new fawns silently crept to the shore of the lake for a sip of clear water.

            At night, the man and his wife loved to lie on the flat roof of their old stone house and try to count the twinkling stars that crowned the sky.   They marveled at the northern lights cascading across the heavens like a shimmering curtain.  They enjoyed the luminous glow of the full moon as it shone across the hills and valley.

            The man and his wife were very happy.  They laughed and played in their flower gardens heavy with the perfume of roses and lilies.  They splashed and swam in the deep blue water.  They let the hot sun dry their strong young bodies as they stretched out on the sandy beach.

            Truly they were very content. 

There was however one question they asked themselves every day but could never answer. 

Sometimes the man would pose the question first as he woke with the dawn and breathed in the sweet morning air.  And usually it was the last thought of the woman at night as she closed her eyes and welcomed rest in her safe comfortable bed.  Every day the man and the woman asked the same question.  Their eagerness to find an answer to the question grew with each passing day.

            “Who created this wonderful world?” 

            That was the question.  No matter how hard they thought about it they just could not find the answer.  The man knew he had not made the world.  And the woman knew she had not made the world.  But to themselves they wished they had made everything because then they would know whom to thank.  Yes, they were content …except for that one important question.

Then one day as the man and his wife surveyed their land from the high roof of their old stone house, they saw a cloud of dust moving toward them along the gravel road.

            “We have a visitor!”  the man cried.  “Look, someone is coming this way.”

            “Yes, you’re right.”  The woman pointed.  “Someone is riding on a bicycle.”

            “How the bicycle gleams in the sunshine.  It looks as if it is made of pure gold!” The man stared.

            The man and the woman ran down the long stairs and opened the front door of their house. 

            “Oh my!” said the woman.

            “W..w..w..who are you?” stammered the man.

            The visitor smiled.  He was dressed in a long golden robe that shimmered as he moved.  He propped his golden bicycle by the door and offered them a neatly wrapped package. 

The man and the woman blinked their eyes at the very radiance of the visitor’s face.  They had never seen anyone like this before. 

            Finally, the woman poked the man with her elbow.  “He wants to give us something,” she whispered.  

The man stretched forth his hand and accepted the package.

Without a word, the visitor hopped back on his golden bicycle and wheeled down the long, dusty road.

Immediately the man realized the package held something warm and heavy.  He opened the outer wrapping and to his amazement, discovered a golden book.  The woman touched the book with tentative fingers, comforted by its warmth.  The man admired the smooth heavy cover and the thickness of many pages.

They stared at the front of the book, for there, boldly emblazoned in heavy gold lettering, even brighter gold than the book itself, were the words,

“BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”

“Book of Instructions!  Did you order something that I don’t know about?”  The man challenged the woman.

“Of course not,” the woman responded.  “Let’s read it and see what the instructions say.”

The man opened the book and turned to the first page.

“Genesis chapter one.  In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” he read.

The man and his wife looked at each other.  They laughed.  Their eyes sparkled as they shouted,  “This is the answer to our question!  Now we know who made everything!”

They joined hands and danced in a circle.  “Hurray, we have the answer to our question.  We know who to thank for our wonderful world.”

“But wait a minute.  Who is ‘God’ and how do we thank him?”  The woman stopped dancing and stared at the man.

           “Let’s sit down and read the golden “ BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”.  Maybe it has all the answers we’ve been looking for,” said the man.

The man and the woman started reading.  They read all night.  And they even read the next day.  They did not stop to eat or to sleep.  They just read and they read the golden “ BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”.

When they finally came to the last page they were silent for a long time. 

Then the man said, “There is something we must do.”

“Yes, let’s do it right away.”  And the woman knelt beside the man.

And they each prayed. 

“Dear God, thank you for telling us all about You.  At last we know who made this wonderful world. We also know about sin that separates us from You.  We come to You asking You to forgive each of us, for we know now that we are sinners.

You love us so much You sent a Savior to us.  His name is Jesus, and by believing in Him we are forever Yours.  Thank you God, for our Redeemer. 

            We give You thanks for all that we are, for all that we have and for all that will be.  Amen.”

The man and his wife knelt quietly.  Then gently, the tears flowed down their faces as they believed in Jesus and received His forgiveness and renewal in a blessed, holy light.  Their hands reached out to each other, as together they experienced the gracious saving love of God, their Creator, and Redeemer.

They knelt there for a long time, then clinging to each other, they slowly climbed the long steps to their rooftop and there they sang and praised and thanked God for all His wonderful creation.

            It came to pass that a sweet little daughter was born to the man and his wife.  And the little girl was beautiful with long dark hair, deep brown eyes and a bright laughing smile.  The man and the woman loved their little girl.

            Every morning and every evening the man and the woman read to the little girl from the golden book.  The pages soon looked worn, but no matter how often the book was opened, the “BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS” never lost its pure golden luster.  The letters on the front cover still shone with an intense light and the book itself always felt warm to the touch.

            The little girl heard all about God and His creation.  She heard the stories of God’s amazing people and how they prepared for the coming of the Messiah.  She also came to love the stories of Jesus.  She heard of God’s love in sending His Son and she heard about God's promises to those who believe in Him.

 By the time she was five years old she knew all the parables of Jesus and surprised her Mama and Papa one day by telling them the story of the Prodigal Son.

            The man and the woman were so proud of their beautiful daughter and said to each other,

            “Truly, God has touched her heart.”

            When the little girl was eight years old she prayed a special prayer to Jesus.

            “Thank you for loving me, Jesus.  I want you to come into my heart.  Please forgive me when I do naughty things.  You have told me in Your Book of Instructions that You will forgive me.  I want You as My Savior so I will live with You forever. Amen.”

            The man and the woman and the little girl stood on their rooftop and sang songs of praises to God.  They loved their little girl very much and rejoiced that she also believed in Jesus.

            Soon the little girl became a young woman.  One day she met a handsome stranger with blue eyes who told her he loved her and wanted to marry her.  She glowed with the promise of true love.

The man and the woman smiled as the young couple wed in a lovely ceremony by the lake.  They had a feast and invited the entire village.

            After the celebration, the young woman and her husband went to live far away on the top of a high mountain.  Every day they could look out of their window and see the sun rise.  It was a glorious sight and they woke early each day to see the lovely colors of the dawn. 

            At first the young woman and her husband often traveled the long distance to see her Mama and Papa in their old stone house by the lake.  But soon the young woman and her husband became very busy and did not visit as often. 

And the young woman did not remember the golden “ BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”.

            One morning as the young woman and her husband looked out their window at the pink sunrise, they noticed a vine growing close to their window. 

            “Those leaves are so rich and green.  It makes an ideal frame for our window,” the young woman remarked.

            The next morning, dark clouds hid the sunrise and the young woman thought she saw a strange creature in the vine.  But she was filled with thoughts of love with her husband, so she paid no attention.

            The following Sunday, the sun shone clear and bright as the young woman and her husband smiled at the sunrise.  And the young woman suddenly had a thought.

            “It’s such a lovely day.  Let’s not bother to go to church today.  Let’s take a walk instead.  I’m sure God is in the woods.  And we can worship him there.”

At that moment, the hidden creature in the vine smiled. 

            The next Sunday, the rain soaked the vine and its leaves, the thunder roared and the lightening lit the window of the house on top of the mountain.  The creature hovered in the vine.

            “Oh, let’s not go to church today.  Besides, don’t you think the pastor is boring?”  The young woman yawned.

            And the creature smiled.

            Weeks and months went by.  The vine grew high, its leaves thick and heavy, and encircled the entire window.  Lurking inside the vine, the creature smiled and waited.

           

            The young woman and her husband slept late every day and never woke until past noon.  Since the vine covered their window they could not see the sunrise.  All they did was sleep during the day and roam their house at night.

            And the creature grinned.

            Meanwhile far away, the man and the woman became very sad.  It had been so long since they had heard from their beautiful daughter.  Why did she not come to visit? 

            They began to pray every morning and every evening for their daughter.  They prayed that she would come home to them soon so that they could read the golden “BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS” and climb the long steps to the rooftop to sing praises to the God of Creation and His Son Jesus Christ.

            Finally one day, the man and the woman decided to write a long letter to their daughter.  In the letter they reminded her of the golden book and things of God.

            Several months later a short letter arrived from their daughter.  The man and the woman eagerly tore open the letter.  Was she coming to visit?  Was she coming to hear them read from the golden book?  Would she tell them wonderful things about God?

            They read,

“ Mama and Papa, I am very busy with my new husband.  We have found better things to do than waste our time with church.  You may come to visit us at any time.  We can probably find a room for you someplace.”   From, your daughter.

            The man and the woman wept.  Had they lost their beautiful daughter? 

            Since the man and the woman were now getting old, they could not make the journey to the house on the tall mountain. 

            They prayed more earnestly.

            “Dear God, You know how much we love our daughter.  We want to see her again, if not in this life, then we want to see her with us in Paradise. 

But if she has turned against You, has no time for You, does not respect You, then how will she know You when her life comes to an end?

Please, dear Jesus, we cannot force her to come home to read the golden book.  So, Jesus, we give her up to You.  You know she loved You once.  Please bring her back to Your loving arms.  Then we will all be together forever in Paradise.”

            Not long after, the man and his wife, who were now quite old, died.  They breathed their last breaths together, holding hands, as they lay side by side on their rooftop gazing at the magnificent star-filled heavens. 

            Far away in their house on the high mountain, the young woman and her husband forgot all about the sunrise.  The monstrous vine towered over their house blocking the beautiful colors of the dawn.

The creature lived in the vine on soft green leafy cushions and several times a day cackled scornful noises at the young woman and her husband.

            The once bright house was gloomy and dark.  Candles had to be lit most times of the day so the young woman and her husband could move about the rooms without bumping into their many possessions.  The house had become filled with all sorts of toys and stuff.  The young woman, who at one time kept her rooms immaculate, now disregarded housework, since she could not see the dirt and debris anyway. 

She had forgotten all about the wonderful truths she had read with her Mama and Papa from the golden “BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”.  She thought only of herself and her things and more things.

Her husband sat in his soft deep chair constantly watching for little black spiders that scurried about in the dark.  He would swat them and laugh.  There were piles of dead black spiders all around his soft deep chair but he didn’t care.  The more he swatted the more he laughed.

            Even though they could barely see out the window, one morning the young woman and her husband stood peering through the vine.  They saw a visitor coming up the long hill to their house and to their astonishment the visitor was riding what looked like a golden bicycle.  The sunlight reflected off the bicycle with such intensity that even though the thick vine shaded them, the young woman and her husband had to blink their eyes.

            At the sight of the visitor, the creature in the vine moaned a loud painful groan.

            “Who is that?  And what was that strange noise,” the young woman shrieked.  She had long ago lost her sweet voice.

            Before her husband could respond, the young woman flung open the door.

            There stood a man in a shimmering golden robe.  He smiled and offered them a package.

            The young woman grabbed the package.  It was warm and heavy.  Ripping open the covering, she found a golden book.  And on the front of the golden book, in heavy gold lettering, were the words,

 “BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”.

             “What do I want with a stupid book?”  She shrieked again and threw the book on the floor.

             Immediately the young woman felt an overwhelming sense of guilt as the visitor’s eyes boldly met hers.  She stood staring up at this strange visitor as a new, yet familiar, warmth flowed through her.  After a moment she realized he held out a letter for her. 

She hesitated, then grabbed the envelope, ripped it open and read,

            “Our dear daughter,

When you receive this precious golden book, you will know that we have died.  We waited for you to come home so that we could read the golden book together again and climb the stairs to the rooftop and sing praises to God.  But you were always too busy.

We want you to know that we never stopped loving you.  We left you in the hands of Jesus trusting that in His time and in His way, you will return into His waiting arms.

When you receive this book, we pray that you and your husband will read it together so that you will learn anew all God’s instructions for you.  God loves you like a Father.

 Remember the story of the Prodigal Son that you memorized when you were five years old?  Well, you are our long lost daughter who has been saved and now is come home.  We trust God and believe that will happen.

                                                Your loving Mama and Papa”

            “They are dead and they didn’t send me stuff?”  The young woman screamed and slammed the door.

  “And they didn’t send you toys?”  She screamed again at her husband.

            The creature in the vine stopped his awful moaning and smiled. 

 But just as the visitor turned to leave the house on top of the high mountain, he paused and looked up at the creature lurking in the vine.  Suddenly, the visitor drew out a hidden sword from under his shimmering robe.  With a mighty slash he cut the vine off at its root.  The creature cried out hideous sounds as it clung to the falling branches.

            A few days later, the young woman began to weep.  “I do miss Mama and Papa.  Oh, how I wish I could see them again.”

            Each day the weeping continued as she thought about her Mama and Papa.

            One morning, the young woman and her husband awoke early and looked out their window.  They were surprised at the brightness of the dawn. 

“What a beautiful morning,” she said in a sweet almost musical voice.  “And look, that thick dark vine is wilting and falling down!”

 The creature slipped far from her view.

As the young woman turned from the window, a tiny ray of early morning light darted across the room and reflected off something in the corner.  It was the golden “BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS”.  The light danced over the golden letters. 

For an instant, the young woman saw Mama and Papa reading to her when she was just a little girl.  She began weeping again and picked up the book. 

            It was then she remembered things about God, so she opened the golden book and read.

            “Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your loving kindness;…

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me….

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me by Your generous Spirit.”

(Psalm 51 selected verses)

            She kept reading.

            “And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.’………..

But the father said to his servants, ….let us eat and be merry, for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”  John 15 selected verses

            The young woman remembered the Parable of the Prodigal Son and wept.  She continued to read.

            “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”  John 3:16

            “In my Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.”  John 14:2

And on and on she read.  She read aloud to her husband and the two of them together read the golden book.  They read all night and into the next day.

Finally when they had read the last word on the last page, they gently held hands, knelt together and prayed.

            “Lord, I am a sinner.  Oh, Lord, can You forgive me?  I had forgotten all about the great love Mama and Papa had for me and through them I now know the limitless love You have for me.  Please take me back into your arms.  I so want to see Mama and Papa again.  I know that with Jesus we will all be reunited again at last in Paradise.”

            After the young woman and her husband prayed for forgiveness they both began to cry.  The selfishness and self-centeredness flowed out of them.  All at once they felt renewed and experienced the joy of God’s redeeming love cleansing them. 

They straightened and stood by the window.  Another dawn had just begun.  The heavens glowed in soft rose pastels and suddenly the first dazzling rays of golden sunlight stretched over the horizon. 

            In the fresh morning light they quickly realized the oppressive green vine had disappeared.  They leaned out the window and laughed.  There on the ground far beneath them lay a pile of rotted leaves and brown mulch just right for laying on the garden beds.

            Hand in hand, holding the golden “BOOK OF INSTRUCTIONS” close to her heart, the young woman and her husband opened the door, and together greeted their first new day filled with God’s amazing love.

Letter to Ellen

This is a special letter to our first baby, a stillborn.  My prayer is that this writing will be a comfort to other mothers who go through similar pain.

DEAR ELLEN

 A mother’s letter of tears and love

 by

 Janet Baird Weisiger

“For you formed my inward parts;

              You covered me in my mother’s womb.

              I will praise You, for I am fearfully and

                        wonderfully made;

  Marvelous are Your works,

              And that my soul knows very well,

              My frame was not hidden from You,

              When I was made in secret,

               And skillfully wrought in the lowest

                         parts of the earth,

               Your eyes saw my substance, being

                         yet unformed.

                And in Your book they all were written,

                The days fashioned for me.

                        When as yet there were none of them.”

                                                                 - Psalm 139:13-16 NKJ

Dear Ellen,

            It has been decades now, but I’ve never forgotten you.   Years have passed and yet, when the calendar announces June 4, I remember.  It was a flawless sunny day with bright skies and fluffy clouds, the perfect setting for weddings, graduations and birthday celebrations.  It was supposed to be your special day, your birth date, a day to be treasured, and a day when the angels sang.

  But, sadly, there were no happy greetings for you, no announcements with pink-ribboned cigars, no bouquets of flowers delivered to the new mother.  In place of exultant cries of joy, sobs of grief hammered the tiled walls of the sterile delivery room.  Instead of cuddling you in my ready open arms, Jesus welcomed you and held you in his bosom. 

You, my dear Ellen, never filled your lungs with earth’s life-sustaining air.  You never wailed at the insult of birth.  You were, as the certificate stated in cruel finality, stillborn. 

            Stillborn.  I still choke at the sound of the word.  Born, but still.  Born, but not moving.  Born, but not showing signs of life.  What a cold, depressing term.  Stillborn.  A word that knifes through the heart of a woman lying on the delivery table.  After all the pain, all the work.  The agonizing moments of waiting for the victorious sounds of a squalling hungry newborn.  Waiting, waiting… and then only terse professional words of the doctor and the nurses. 

“Suction!”

“But she looks perfect.”

“Cord not wrapped around her neck.”

“No response, doctor.”

And then finally,  “I’m sorry, sometimes these things are for the best.”

“For the best?”  I want to scream. How can this be “for the best”?

I lay on the delivery table, shaved, scrubbed, white sheets properly draped

and I weep.

Yes, I birthed you.  I remember every detail.  But I never saw you, never held you, never touched your fingers and toes, never stroked your soft warm skin, and never smelled your newborn sweetness. 

Your daddy and I wanted you.  We always knew we would have babies.  That was part of being in love and being married.  A family.  Children (it was always plural) to fill our lives with laughter, noise and, yes, even mess.  Babies who would change overnight into toddlers, Little Leaguers, prom queens, chemistry majors and walk out of our lives to marry, have their own families and continue the cycle of life as God intended.

You were our first baby.  We saved money to buy a white crib decorated with dancing lambs.  I hummed lullabies as I sewed curtains for your “baby’s room”.   Your aunt hosted a shower with gifts of receiving blankets, colorful mobiles and tiny soft clothes.  I covered a bassinet, found at a garage sale, with white fabric highlighted with pink and blue bows.  We were ready for you.  We had no way of knowing whether you were a boy or a girl.  It didn’t matter to us.  We were going to have a baby!

We never doubted God had blessed us with the creation of a little one.  We knew Him as the giver of life and our lives honored His ways.

For nine months, you were alive in me.  I thrilled at the first flitting of what seemed like butterfly wings as you moved within me.  I giggled at the waves across my extended belly as you stretched an arm or leg and poked an elbow or knee.  Your daddy and I lay in bed at night, our hands on my tummy, fascinated at your turnings and tumblings.

The day I birthed you, I was not unduly alarmed, because I understood the progression of labor and recognized the early contractions.  My little suitcase was packed and I awaited the right time to leave the house.

Your daddy stayed with me during those long hours at the hospital.  Just to have him in the labor room with me was rare in that decade.  Lacking the technology of fetal monitors, the labor room nurse checked your heartbeat every fifteen minutes with her stethoscope. 

And then something went wrong.  As the contractions grew stronger and the second stage of labor began, the labor room nurse suddenly rushed from my room.  The doctor quickly entered and ordered your daddy out to the waiting room, telling him “we need to make some important decisions.”   What about your daddy?  This was his wife, his baby.   Important decisions?  Without his imput? 

Your daddy sat alone, flipping through dog-eared magazines, not knowing whether he had lost a wife, whether the baby was dead, or what was wrong.  No one told him anything until you were long gone from us.

I remember how frightened I was. 

The professionals conferred, almost forgetting my existence.

“No fetal heartbeat.”

“Should we do a section?”

“No, let’s try high forceps.  Prep her and let’s get started.”

In the delivery room I was carefully shielded from all that was going on.  No mirrors, no husband there to coach me, only one kind, sympathetic nurse holding my hand.

And then the final push, the clinking of the forceps, the gushing forth, and … silence.  No slap, no baby cries.  Only silence.  And then the resigned sigh from the doctor and finally the announcement.  Stillborn!

"Oh, she's so beautiful!" The nurse spoke.
Then I knew you were a girl.

They never let me see you.  They never let me hold you.  They just took you away.

Where did they take you?  What did you look like?

I was rapidly wheeled into the recovery room, unable to move my legs because of the caudal anesthesia.  And I cried.  I cried continually, sniffling and sobbing, my heart breaking, my arms empty.  Questions bombarded my mind.  Why?  Why God, why? 

“Where is my husband?”  I asked a hundred times. 

I wept alone. 

An officious nurse appeared at my side.

“You’ll have to stop your sniffling.  You are disturbing the other mothers,” she ordered.

“But I have no baby! I can’t help it! I have no baby!” 

They assigned me to a private room in the middle of the maternity wing.  I could shut my door but I could not shut out the sounds of crying newborns as the nurse wheeled them down the hall for their feedings. 

I spent the next few days in the hospital mourning and suffering uncontrollable grief.  Newborn feeding schedules jarred me awake, interrupting my medicated sleep and thrusting me into waking nightmares.   Each day dawned with promise for every new mother but me. 

Where did they take you?  What did they do to your tiny body?

Your daddy and I left the hospital, my arms empty, my breasts now filling and aching for my infant to suckle.  When we returned home, the door to your room was closed.  It would be weeks before I had the strength to open the door, look in the silent room and weep again.

What would you have done with your life?  Would you now have a family of your own?  Would we have shared mother-daughter secrets?  Would you have been the joy of your daddy’s life?

Where did you go?  Where are you now?

For years I wondered why they never let me hold you.  They said it would have been too painful.  They said it was better just to forget.

They said a funeral would just prolong the grief.

We grieved but never chose a coffin, wept but never dug a grave.  We cried bitter tears but have nothing to remember you by.

They just took you away.

Was your hair brown like mine?  Were your eyes blue like your daddy’s?

They said, “You’re young, you’ll have more babies.”

But I didn’t know that, anymore than they did.  They meant well, and I know they were all hoping I would go on with life… and …forget.

But, as you can see, I have never forgotten you.  I have never forgotten the pain of losing you.  I have never forgotten the nine precious months of life I shared with you.

Because, my dear Ellen, you were alive within me!  We were mother and daughter.  My body nourished you, protected you and kept you warm.  You drew comfort from the ceaseless beat of my heart.  You heard me sing and laugh.

For years I asked,  “Where are you now?  Is your little soul with God?”

When I birthed you, I didn’t understand God the way I do now.  Through the years I have studied His word and I have discovered the scriptures say some pretty wonderful things.  Romans 8:28 says, “All things work together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.”  I believe that now.  That season of darkness gave me keen appreciation for all of life’s blessings and joys.  That experience of losing you gave me a glimpse into the mystery of just being a woman.  I was wonderfully made in the image of God to bear, nourish and love you.   God gave my that gift of pregnancy and I slowly, reluctantly, waited on Him.

Then, miraculously, a year and 3 days after you were taken from us, your brother was born.  And in the next four years, your three sisters arrived in rapid succession.  My cup runneth over.  What untold blessings God gave us. 

But still I have never forgotten you.

        
           God knew you before you were conceived.  God knew you before your daddy and I expressed our love for each other in one glorious passionate moment. And God knew that losing you at the time of your birth would bring uncomprehending pain to us.  But He also knew that in that pain, He would be there to hold and comfort us.  He would also gradually heal me and enable me to forgive some of the thoughtlessness and cruelty of that experience. 

Most important of all, God showed me, through your tiny unborn existence, that each life is sacred and holy, created in His image.  And because of His plan, you are and always have been present with Him in His eternal kingdom.   I now know with absolute certainty that you are loved, Ellen.  You are loved by an amazing God who cares for even the tiniest dear ones like you. 

Sometimes I think they did not let me hold you because they thought unless you breathed in the open air of this world that you were nothing, that you did not even exist, that you were just a piece of protoplasm.  But I knew differently.  I knew you were alive, I knew you had always been alive in me.  You were alive for those nine months because you were created by our most magnificent God.  No one can tell me otherwise.  God has said that He loves and cares for all His creation.  Thus I know He takes care of you.

You will be delighted to know that your brother and three sisters are happily married, and that you have seven nieces and five nephews who give us untold joy and blessings.

My Lord and my God wipes away my tears, Ellen, because even now, I sometimes still weep when I remember the pain of losing you.  But He has also given me contentment by holding me in His love.  I trust Him, even though I do not totally understand His ways. 

So for now, Ellen, rest well in the arms of Jesus.  I am fully confident I will be united with you in that glorious Paradise which awaits all of us who know the Lord Jesus Christ.  At that time, I will finally gaze upon your face and see you for the first time, my dear one, my first baby.

                                                          Your ever loving,

                                                                                    Mommy