When Jesus held my baby

A guest post by Jaime Cheaney

Jesus and the Children by Ellenrieder
(Wikimedia Commons).

This year at Easter Sunday mass, I was flooded with memories of my first miscarriage.  My miscarriage began on Holy Saturday of 2011, and at Easter Sunday mass the next day, I couldn’t bear the sound of the joyful church bells ringing.  It was just too much—I quickly scooped up my toddler and ran out of church, acting like she was too loud to stay in mass.  I hid downstairs in the parish center and sobbed, unable to choke out a single “Alleluia” in celebration of Christ’s Resurrection.

About a week after my miscarriage, I wrote the following healing words.  They still bring me comfort.  The Holy Spirit keeps nudging me to share these words with others.  I think it well help me find closure.  My baby will be remembered.

April 23, 2011

April 22nd was a wonderful day.  I nibbled on crackers, hoping to settle my stomach.  Morning sickness?  That made me laugh.  This pregnancy was no different from my other seven.  At five weeks pregnant, the all-day sickness was starting.

Evening though I dreaded the throwing up in my future, I welcomed it.  It seemed like a sign that my baby, as surprising as it was to have growing inside of me, was thriving.  My tiny little baby the size of a sesame seed!

Continue reading at Jaime's blog The Fruitful Mother.