Saying “See Ya Later, Baby”

…or something like that.

It was a difficult week. There was still laundry to do, meals to cook, and children to teach. My middle still garnered a pat or two during the day and then I would remember, “oh, she’s not there anymore…” And the dumbest things would set the tears flowing, like looking at the empty milk bucket and thinking how my baby would never get any from me. I got plenty of loving and prayers from everyone (thank you soooo much), and even had some laughs, but my insides felt hollow much of the time. And it wasn’t just because I had lost my appetite.

I’m thankful my body healed so well and so quickly. I drank up at least a good gallon or two of herbal tea (red raspberry, shepherd’s purse, nettle, oatstraw & alfalfa), and took in a half a bottle of post-pregnancy tincture I made for rebuilding (horsetail, burdock and chickweed). I took my herbal and salt baths of uva ursi, lavender, myrrh, comfrey, cypress, and yes, more shepherd’s purse. And then to balance it all out, I ate a full box of homemade truffles and three large servings of homemade creme brulee.

We all said our “good-bye’s” last night in the garage. It was late. It was raining. I didn’t care. I wanted her out of the fridge and put to rest.

My husband held the wee quilt I made for her–she fit right into the little square in the middle–and talked a little about life and death and of course GOD because how could you not in a time like this?

Then we lay the quilt down into the soil. The soil is a story in itself. I couldn’t bury her here in the woods. Our woods are for sale (along with the house). It just felt weird, “leaving” her here. So I went to the nursery with my other four girls and found absolutely nothing worth buying that seemed to fit. That was a hard day. Coming home with nothing.

My husband put the baby gently on the quilt and covered her up with the rose petals I had saved. I wanted to save a petal, but I just couldn’t. Just give them all to her, all of them… I didn’t want a single particle of dirt touching her. Even though I knew her body was going to return to just that.

Every one of us gently put a handful of dirt onto the petals, and then she was covered up completely. I think even our four year old will always remember this.

So this is what is left from the night. A beautiful pot I bought at 75% off (I could never afford to buy one of these!) filled with a lovely rose bush that dear friends showed up with on Friday; a rose bush that was such a favorite, they had it carted across state lines when they moved. It was a beautiful sacrifice. We shared supper. News. Laughs. Wine.

My heart feels a bit like the rose bush. Barren, a bit prickly. Sort of dead-looking. But I know that spring will come, and that in my moving forward…laundry, meals, children…I can go forth in faith that this, too, was for my good and for His glory. Nothing is wasted, my tears are counted, and I am looking forward to that great time in heaven when so many of my friends (and so many of you, my bloggy friends!), will rejoice in the reunions with the ones we’ve lost, no matter how and when they were lost. And as we know, what truly belongs to the Lord is never lost.

Goodbye, baby. I love you.