Carrying A Rainbow

CARRYING A RAINBOW

By Kristen Kelley

The second Sunday in May . . . I have anticipated the onset of labor pains, on Mother’s Day, before.  I have had breakfast brought to me in bed by my loving husband. I have taken photos in the front yard with my daughters.  I have sought refuge in the church parking lot, and wept the tears of grief. 

This Mother’s Day, I am carrying a precious “rainbow” in my womb. We will be 6-months along, tomorrow, and it is still difficult to put this pregnancy into words. Here we are with only about 16 weeks left to go, and I feel like I am finally letting myself start to think, “This baby might be coming home with us!”

So much that is “baby” has had to be pushed away from my heart and mind the last few years, as I coped with the sorrow of miscarriage – even videos and photos of our older girls when they were born  . . . It feels both exciting and incredibly fragile to be looking at maternity clothes, and nursing pillows, and receiving blankets.

We all have circumstances in our lives for which we need to trust the hand of our loving Heavenly Father . . . Since learning of our pregnancy, I have had to cling repeatedly to the truth that God alone is in control of the outcome. 

“In whose hand is the soul of every living thing, and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12:10)

I have always written a few letters to our babies, while carrying them in my womb.  The letters to this Little One are so different from those I wrote in years past . . .

“I feel your movements – especially when I’m wearing my seatbelt or a drinking a delicious shake at bedtime – yet, I still long to hear your little heartbeat thumping like a train.  Having a fetal Doppler has greatly helped to allay my natural fears between doctor appointments.  I couldn’t imagine going 2 weeks or more before being reassured of your well-being within my womb.”

“More people asked if we knew your gender, yesterday.  I fought hard to . . . refrain from automatically picturing the traumatic ultrasound where we discovered we’d lost your brother Joshua.”

“I want to be happy – ONLY happy – about the ultrasound, the rainbow baby shirts, the secret Easter egg reveal . . . but my heart is like a pendulum.” 

On a teeter-totter between fear and hope - even today - the Holy Spirit reminds me of Psalm 42:5:

“Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God . . .”

Kind church members recently provided a travel bassinet and a travel swing, in anticipation of our new arrival.  When I shared with the girls what we had received, our oldest asked with grave concern, “But why are we getting baby stuff if we don’t even know yet if we’ll be able to keep this baby?”

“Because it’s good to HOPE,” I told her.  “We need to keep hoping that everything WILL be alright this time. And we need to start getting things ready for if we DO get to bring her home. Right?”

“Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.” (Ps. 27:14)

He can strengthen my heart; the heart of my husband; the hearts of my daughters . . . Each of us have our own worries and concerns.  Our hope must be in nothing else.  Not in “chariots” or “horses” – not in doctors or ultrasounds - but in “the name of the LORD our God.” (Psalm 20:7)

HE alone is my Rock amid the swirling “multitude of my thoughts within me”, and His “comforts delight my soul.” (Ps. 94:19)

As the beautiful hymn declares, “When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.”

“I think God gave us this rainbow baby to keep,” our Cheyenne often tells me. 

I do too, Sweet Girl. Deep down in my heart, I do too.

“Our God whom we serve is able . . .” as the three Hebrew children once said, “ . . . But if not . . .” (Daniel 3:17-18) If not . . . If God chooses another plan – a more difficult road for me - I know with a certainty “. . . his way is perfect . . .” (Ps. 18:30) and “he maketh my way perfect.” (II Sam. 22:33)

This Mother’s Day 2019 “ . . . my flesh also shall rest in hope.” (Ps. 16:9)