My dear friend found out in November that they had been selected as adoptive parents for Kate, a beautiful baby girl, due March 12th. We gave her formula, and a bouncer chair, and a swing, and a piece of our lives. On Monday Kate's birth mother delivered her, stillborn.
Now my friend is consoling a birth family, holding together her own family, choosing a two-foot coffin, and grieving with a pain too deep for words.
In the midst of it, she is being refined, and is being proved to have a faith purer than gold.
I keep trying to comment on her facebook posts. I want her to know that I am there for her, that I have lost a baby too, and my heart is weeping oceans for her family. I keep trying to say simple things: I am praying for you, you are loved, after all things God is only good. I just can't seem to manage to do it. There are no words. When your arms have ached to cradle your daughter, but now they will be empty of her until heaven's gates, then, there are no words.
I don't know what her story will hold besides faith beyond measure. My story is that the grief dulls, and one day you can think of your baby and not hurt. One day you will look excitedly to heaven and know a face, a giggle, a little human being will await you there. One day here, there will be joy ahead of pain. And one day there, there will be no grief at all. The darkness does not endure, nor do we mourn forever. My story is that God is good, and only ever good, and His faithfulness is new every morning.
My friend will have her own story. It will be beautiful and simple. And in eternity she will introduce me to Kate, her amazing daughter. And I will introduce her to my baby, who never had a name, but still had my heart.
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