The Morning I Knew...

There is so much to write...so many stories to tell and questions to answer and contemplate.  *This* story is one of my favorites though...

So there's a part of our story of loss that I haven't shared with many.  It's at once painful and also exciting and joyful.  I spoke of the evening that Jonathan and I returned to the ER with first trimester bleeding.  But I *didn't* tell you about that morning...

Remember I told you that I had gone to the ER earlier that week.  I was sent home and told there was either nothing or everything to worry about.  Every morning after that I would drive to work with my hand on my belly.  I would talk to my little tiny baby.  "Ok baby.  Just hang in there.  It's just me and you for a minute.  We can do this.  I already love you."  His presence in my body consumed my thoughts...

But I already had that mother's intuition.  I already knew something wasn't right.  I felt like he wasn't safe in there.  Like something was off.  It was a nagging feeling.  Like nothing I can describe.  Intuition is the best word I can come up with.  The morning of September 11th, 2009 I had what I can only describe as a divine dream...

I heard a voice in my ear as plain as day in those moments between sleeping and waking.  The voice said in a calm and comforting voice, "Rachel it's time for me to take him now."  And I woke up gasping and clutching at my belly.  Trying to push something unseen away from the child inside of me.  My heart was racing.  And then that night my worst fears were realized.  But somehow I knew it was coming.  I remember calmly coming out of the restroom and telling Jonathan flatly, "I'm going to lose this baby tonight."  I knew he was already gone.  If you have ever experienced the loss of a pregnancy you probably know exactly what that feels like.  You know before anyone else does that something isn't right.  You know...

The night of September 11th came and went.  I was discharged the next morning in a daze.  I threw up a few times on the ride home.  Jonathan got me inside and into bed.  Then he ran out and got me the only two types of food that sounded good to me, watermelon and waffle fries, to see if I could keep *something* down.  I was still in a daze.  I did, thankfully, have quite a restful sleep that night.  And I had such a glorious dream.  A dream that returns to me every so often...

You see my grandfather (who I called Daddy Ronchal) passed away when I was in 8th grade unexpectedly.  He was such a happy person.  My mother tells the story of when he and my grandmother first laid eyes on me.  The two of them stood in the doorway of my nursery and held each other and cried.  He used to smoosh my cheeks together and say "Soooo sweet!" He loved me and my sister so dearly.  I often regret that I have missed out on sharing so many milestones in my life with him.  But I know he would have been ecstatic to meet his first great grandchild...

Jonathan's grandmother (who he called Grandmommy) passed away when he was 18.  She was so special to him.  She used to tell what Jonathan describes as "epic bedtime tales" that she would make up on the fly about his Horatio the Hedgehog stuffed animal.  She was quite an impactful woman.  Her influence is still felt to this day.  His Granddaddy has told Jonathan that she was the most perfect woman he's ever known.  *She* would have been head over heels to meet her first great grandchild...

So this beautiful dream...

I am walking through the doors of a house I've never been in but it seems oddly familiar.  I hear laughing and giggling and cooing.  I step into what looks like a parlor.  And in a rocking chair I see Jonathan's Grandmommy sitting and holding my sweet baby boy in her arms.  She's tickling him and kissing his little forehead.  My Daddy Ronchal is standing behind that rocking chair just smiling at Aamon and laughing and smooshing his chubby little cheeks and saying "Soooo sweet!".  They are three of the happiest people I've ever seen.  Then all three of them turn and look at me.  Grandmommy and Daddy Ronchal are just so proud.  The looks on their faces are kind of a silent affirmation of just how perfectly wonderful he is.  And my baby has the sweetest piercing blue eyes and this perfectly soft and wispy black baby hair on the top of his head.  He smiles at me.  And oh, my heart soars.  Just retelling it makes me ecstatic.  What a spectacular picture of love and hope.  And what a concrete reminder that death is not the end of the line for us.  There's more!  And from the tiny little glimpse I've seen, it's marvelous.  My angel is being loved in the most perfect place he could be.  By the hands of people who knew him as soon as he drew breath.  He doesn't hurt, he doesn't cry.  You know that tingly happy feeling you feel when you hear a good hearty baby laugh??  That is the only life my child will ever know...

Thinking about the loss of our baby is sometimes a physical pain.  My arms literally ache to hold him.  If you've seen me holding *your* child before, you've probably seen me plant kisses on their sweet little cheeks and foreheads...I can't help myself!  Getting to love *your* babies plugs that cavity for a brief moment.  The smell of the top of a baby's head is literally intoxicating to me.  Sometimes I think God intended for me to love *your* children fervently first before He sent me mine.  I am so very happy to do that.  Making children feel safe and happy makes my heart whole...

One fine day Jonathan and I will get to hold and kiss and snuggle our sweet baby boy.  I fully believe that time will not be as we comprehend it here on earth when we get to Heaven.  I believe it will seem as though no time has passed when we see him.  And what a sweet glorious day that will be...