Meant to Be

"Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are in My view continuously." (Isaiah 49:16)

The absolute most ignorant ( pardon my bluntness) thing that can be said to a woman who has lost a baby is, " It wasn't meant to be".
The day after I got home my husband took the kids with him to the airport to meet grandma. I planned on turning on the TV and resting, but I found myself, as I often do, just blankly staring, processing nothing that I was watching.
My phone rang not too long into their absence. It was a family member calling to check on me. The call started off awkward as it usually does when people are not sure what to say. I spoke as quickly as possible with the hopes of ending the call.
Then, I heard four words that, still today, make me cringe. "Well, you know it just wasn't meant to be".
I stuttered for a moment trying to get a response to leave my lips. " But it was meant to be. There was nothing wrong with the baby, there was something wrong with me. I was sick. The doctor said there was this infection that had probably been there was a couple weeks and that if it wasn't for that my water.........". I was cut off with a curt, " We can say, 'if this or that happened', Sabrina, but it is, what it is".

What do you think it the second things I hate to hear the most? Yep you guessed it, " It is, what it is". To me that just sounds lazy. It is a way of brushing things off that you cannot understand. Or, perhaps it is a way of brushing off things you don't want to understand because it may leave you with questions. The answers might shake up a belief you have about who God is. It may make you realize that no matter what you do or how hard you try to control your environment, you have no control. Only He does. That can be a scary concept to grasp. But, I assure you once you do it will be your greatest comfort.

I became very defensive and hurt during this phone call. I was trying to defend the validity of this unborn child. "It" was meant to be. "It" isn't just "what it is".
I think that I speak for all women who have had to bear the grief of losing a baby when I say that, my baby had ten fingers and ten toes fingers. It had a beating heart just like you and I. It could suck it's thumb. It was God's perfect creation that he meant to make. I loved it already. I dreamed of it's cherub face an tiny feet. It was mine , it was real, and it was meant to be.

An therein lies my own misconception. This baby was not mine, it was God's. It was his to take home. Our children our not ours, they are His. He gives them to us for a time. He expects us to raise them with the same love and discipline he shows us. When I think about the love I have for my children, it is a love that is so deep it hurts. Magnify that times anything I could possibly comprehend and I see that He loves them more then I could EVER love them, because his love is Infinite.
It is because of the promise of his Infinite love, that when I close my eyes I can see him waiting with open arms to welcome home his child that I lost.