Ellie McNeal is wife to Adam, mother to Annie. Lover of book recommendations, floral prints, show tunes, and deep talks. Blogging to keep the romance alive between Words and Me.

A heart relocated

"We will feast in the house of Zion/we will sing with our hearts restored/'He has done great things' we will say together/we will feast and weep no more"

The secret I never got to tell: the seven-week-old soul I was carrying went to heaven today. With him, my heart relocated to heaven. I planned to announce him at Annie's first birthday, but the Lord had another plan. 

Still, my baby whom I lost, Annie is your big sister and I am your mom and your dad is your dad. Your life was really real. You made my body tired and my heart excited and scared just as your sister did. You gave joy to your grandparents who all knew about you. While I carried you I lived a full life--you went with me to talk to a class of high school girls about relationships, you were there when I went to a family reunion and sang and met new cousins, you were with me when I fed and changed and cleaned up after your sister, I worked out and walked with you, you were with me through seven weeks worth of breakfasts and dinners and you felt all the times I laughed at your dad and Annie.

Even as I write this, as my sadness sits heavy on me, there's your sister, clowning around and surprising me with laughter through tears.

Grace has been my companion through these five hours of fresh grief. Two moms who have leapt in to serve us. The kindest midwife on the phone as I stammered, "I guess I'm not even your client yet...I wanted to be..." reassuring me to rest and to acknowledge, to really say goodbye to this little one. Sandra McCracken's music is nourishing me as I lie in bed. 

This morning in bed next to Adam, I could breathe out, thank you Jesus I get to wake up by this man on this sad day.

Words are healing. I didn't want to tell anyone we were pregnant, for fear of this, for fear of miscarriage. But now here it is, and I feel I must speak it. Feeding Annie this morning I breathed in her hair and her dewy cheeks. Having Annie has shown me what I lost in losing this baby. 

There is a real temptation to say, "This is just like another period. I didn't even know this baby, this person. This was just an early passing of some tissues." Yet I reject that, and I must: God really gave life. And took away. The place the baby was being nourished was full of blood, and as it leaves my body I carry death where there used to be life. Even though I won't see this baby's face or tiny toes--a real person is gone from me and I won't get to know her until I see Jesus with my own eyes.

My heart is being weaned off of this world. From everlasting to everlasting all your works are good O Lord, so I can really say, blessed be your name. Today my heart breaks. I will again hope in God.

Not that we should live one life

Dear Annie