Ronnie

     Dear family and friends; you may have seen the blue and pink filter across my husband's or my profile picture on Facebook. No, we are not having twins. The pink and blue represent the women and families who have lost a baby or infant. This isn't about people wearing pink to show support for those with breast cancer. This isn't about wearing blue to raise awareness about diabetes. In this day and age, there are colors that depict almost every condition there is. Except for pregnancy and infant death. Why is this issue less important than the others? Millions of women are keeping silent. I read a statistic analysis that said that from 1-2 weeks there is a 75% of miscarriage. From 3-6 weeks, that percentage is lowered to 10%. So, is my pink and blue ribbon going to change any of that? No, it isn't. But it does provide an opportunity to raise awareness when people ask us about it. Why is this so important to us? Because, we too have been lost in the labyrinth of darkness that pregnancy loss brings.

     Not that long ago, I called my husband at work to let him know what was happening. In retrospect, I probably should have waited until he was home to break the news to  him. But I needed to hear his voice and to listen while he prayed over us. When he got home, I remember him holding me in his arms while we both sobbed. What hurt me the most was the fact that I didn't even know I was carrying a baby. I'm largely house-bound and don't get much exercise, so I attributed the weight gain to not getting enough exercise. I also missed two periods, which I attributed to the stress of having chronic medical issues. For 18 years I've been told by various doctors that I can't even get pregnant. The daily nausea and vomiting should have been a clue, but I have chronic migraines. Nausea and vomiting is just par for the course. I didn't know. That's all. I just didn't know. 

     At first, I was incredibly sad and angry at God. Then I remembered that God is big enough to take my anger. I remembered that HE is the one who carries our transgressions, heals the sick, and let the captive go free. I was reminded that God is a God of miracles and life. If He made the life that is gone away from us, then in His perfect time, He can make life again. Does this make me less angry? Yes, it does. Does it mean mean the sadness and longing have gone away? No, I think that has become a part of me. But it gave me some much needed perspective. I want to share a very personal letter that I wrote to our unborn baby.

Dear Baby,

     I know that you will never get to read this letter. But I'm writing the things I would tell you if you were still with us. I'm writing so that I will never forget. I'm writing to remember. First and foremost, I want you to know that I've loved and waited for you for most of my life. When I was 5, someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My answer was "the mother of my children." That was my biggest goal in life, to be your mother. 


     I will miss holding you in my arms and singing to you. I will miss watching your daddy read to you and put you to bed. Your daddy would read you fairy tales that are magical and exciting. I would have read you Tolstoy, Austen, and probably some Poe for good measure. I will miss dressing you in the cute clothes that your grandmothers and aunts would have sent you. I will miss watching you play with the army men and Legos that your uncles would have given you. I will miss seeing the pride on your grandfather's faces when you hit your first home run. I will miss the smell on your head that only babies have. I would trade diaper changes and 2 am feedings with joy if it meant I still had you. But I don't. I don't have any of that. 

     I like to think that you would have been like your daddy. He is loving, kind, gentle. In fact, he is not just the guy who holds me when I cry, makes me laugh, and brightens any room he walks into. He is my best friend. Just knowing about you made him realize that he was capable of loving deeper than he ever realized. You have an amazing daddy. I just wish you had known him. But you didn't. You didn't get that chance.

     We would have turned the guest room into your room. You could have gone to sleep watching the glow in the dark stars that are all over the ceiling. You would have had a wonderful childhood. We would have taken you to the symphony, the zoo, NASA, and exposed you to music and literature from the first days of your life. I wish so much that we could share these things with you. But we can't. Because you aren't here.
 
     There are so many thing I wish I could say to you. I wish I could tell you how much we loved and cherished you. Maybe someday there will be other babies and children that we love, but none will ever replace you. We will always remember you and talk about you. You hold a very special place in our hearts. I want to tell you about your name. We named you Ronnie. It is a Gaelic name that originated from Hebrew. It means "Mountain of Strength." Your last name, Morgan, means "Great Brightness." You are the legacy of many generations of Morgans and Tuckers. Had you lived to meet them, you would have been surrounded by an overwhelming abundance of love, honor, integrity, and faith in God. As much as I want you here with us, you are in a far better place. You are daily in the presence of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. You are in the presence of the God of Clinton and Martha. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. But that doesn't make me miss you any less. 

     We love you baby Ronnie. You will always be in our hearts and never far from our minds. I don't understand  why we lost you and I probably never will. But here I stand with unshakable faith and I can say with Job "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord."  (Job1:21)