Some news is so beautiful, it must be kept in ones heart to ponder, as Mary did with the mystery of Christ her child. I kept my little news in my heart, revealing it to a few, gently coaxing my feeble hope out of its cautious shell, willing it all to be true.
Yet as some dreams blossom, others fade quietly into memories. This week, we lost the baby. Yes, there was a baby - I don't know how long he or she (lets just go with he) lived, we only knew for a few days that we were pregnant, but he has gone home now. We have a saint in Heaven! I feel that's an honor our family doesn't deserve - our own little saint, who surely remembers our intentions at the throne of God. I wish I could have met him, but he must be so happy where he is, that I can't be too sad: my first child will never feel want, fear, sadness or cold. He will never see the ugliness of sin, or feel great pain. He will always be in joyful communion with God, and surely Our Lady will look after him - surely she will make sure my baby is well cared for, she who cared so well for the Christ Child and cares still for all of us.
I wish I knew how to feel: I wasn't even used to his presence yet, I didn't even know how I felt about being pregnant, and then he had gone. I miss him as a person misses an opportunity they didn't know they had until it was taken away: all the joy I could have had, just knowing it was possible for a little bit longer.
I don't know why this happened now, right after I mused about my desire for a child at Christmastime. But since my greatest fear was that somehow, that miracle would never touch my womb, I cannot be too distraught. This little one has left, but he was a sign of hope: not this Christmas, but maybe one in the future, I will have joyful news and joyful waiting. In a way I cannot grasp at this point in time, I am a mother and that has always been my dearest wish. Blighted though my motherhood at this point is, I have gotten to marvel at a miracle smaller than a grain of rice.
I'm sure I will have more thoughts, happier thoughts, more Christmaslike thoughts, at a later time. But for now, I want to think about my child: he who is good and true and beautiful.