Gratitude

I am grateful that I learned the news about baby Ethan when John was only a few hours from home.

I am grateful that a friend was watching Jacob, and not a babysitter, so I could take the time I needed, and come back to a good hug.

I am grateful for Jacob’s smiles and hugs and the fact that he laughed at me when I was crying. His joy has the strength of a hundred suns.

I am grateful that John’s parents started praying for us right away.

I am grateful that my parents got in the car and stayed with me until John came home, helping me with Jacob, ordering in food, watching a movie to veg out a little.

I am grateful for my faith, that I have an explanation as to where my baby is, where he will go.

I am grateful that within two days of knowing I was pregnant, I had a sense that the baby was a boy and should be named Ethan.

I am grateful for doctors and health insurance and all I’ve read online about how to deal emotionally and spiritually with miscarriage. I am grateful to live in a time full of information, so that what I need is there when I need it.

I am grateful for the priest we called who helped us figure out what to do as soon as possible.

I am grateful for friends who have responded with prayers and gentle condolences, for kind people who are mourning as we mourn.

 
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And still, I feel anger.

I am angry that I don’t get to hold this child. I am angry that the best view I will get of him is the sweet profile on the ultrasound—that looked so much like Jacob, and not just because all babies look the same in utero. This one was definitely ours.

And I feel guilty.

I feel guilty for wanting a ham and cheese sandwich on my way home, post-ultrasound. I feel guilty for wanting sushi for dinner sometime soon.  I felt wrong wearing maternity pants when I got home that day, like I was some kind of imposter. For a long time, I was nervous about how continuously I’d give myself to my children over the next however many years: carrying them, nursing them, having only a brief respite before being pregnant again. Now, though I am grateful Jacob is as independent as he is, I feel a little empty in not nurturing another life as I’d expected.

I feel guilty; I am angry; and I am grateful. I have hope. I have faith. I have love.

I say this prayer, the Ignatian Suscipe every morning, and now I see in a new way why it is important for me:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
That is enough for me.

Amen.