sweet relief



We were in a pub.
(And I’m not trying to be all cool and English and hip, it really was a pub)
She ordered an iced tea and I looked at her a little funny.
She spilled quickly.
She had seen the heart beat for the first time that morning.
We celebrated that night, because it had been such a long journey.
And this friend was in some desperate need of good news.

I held my breath with her until she hit the safety mark.
Twelve weeks.

But it wasn’t safe.
And only a week or two later.
There were complications.
Big ones.
A uterine tear.
And she was told all she could do was rest and hope for the best.

And despite the bed rest, and the prayer, and the pleading.
It didn’t heal.

But somehow that baby hung in there.
And there was more praying and pleading and hoping.
And just when I decided to trust.
To believe.
To picture a baby in my arms. And more importantly hers.
And this mom who so deserved it, after one was ripped from hers.
She was back in the hospital. With contractions and bleeding.
And it was too early.
Eventually they sent her home.
To rest.
Hoping for the best.

And this wasn’t my journey.
My grief.
And my hope.
And my fear.
But for some reason, I went along.
I went to the hospital.
I sat on the couch.
I got take out.
I watched her belly grow.
I heard the heart beat.
Our kids played, while we looked at pictures of the one she lost.
And I usually cried on the way home.

And I grieved and hoped.
I feared the worst and hoped for the best.
But there were so many things I didn’t do.
I didn’t carry around the loss with me like a weight.
I didn’t get shots in my abdomen.
I didn’t count kicks.
I didn’t hold my breath for 9 long months.

But when I got the text that said she was here.
Safe and sound.
All 6lbs and 4ounces of her.
I cried tears of joy and relief.
Right along with her mom.
Across the country.

So welcome to the world little girl.
We have been waiting for you….
And hoping and praying and loving you long before you got here.



ok, so I haven’t written much about this in a long time b/c my friend Beth moved across the country and I miss hanging out on the couch with her. . .but here are a few of those posts if you want the rest of the story:
for tucker
bigger than a mustard seed
what hope sounds like

7 comments:

Kate said...

Oh, sweet and precious joy! There is nothing better then a friend kind enough to walk beside us when the road is rough. Nothing.

Beth (and Eric) said...

I love you very much, Michelle. Thank you for going down this path with me. "You've carried me. You've taken upon a burden that wasn't your own. May the blessings return to you a hundred fold."

It truly is sweet relief. I cried when I heard her cry for the first time. It was the best sound I have ever heard. But after those first tears of joy & relief, I just kept sighing and taking deep breaths with a big smile on my face. I just felt so happy & relieved & cozy.

I wish my couch was closer to your couch!

Dawn said...

Praise the Lord! I have tears of joy in my eyes for Beth and Eric! Michelle, you are such an amazing friend.

Young Mom said...

Oh what a special moment! This made tears come to my eyes. I'm so happy for Beth! And thank you for being the kind of friend who is there, many won't put themselves out there to experience pain and loss alongside someone else.

Amelia said...

Beautiful, Michelle.

samskat said...

I was thinking of your friend a few days ago and wondering what happened. Many prayers of thanksgiving for that precious, most wanted little girl! THanks for sharing, Michelle.

Hyacynth said...

Oh, thank God! What a beautiful blessing, beautiful baby.
Michelle, you are a good friend -- you walk even the hard roads with your friends when many would check out at that point. Beautiful post.