Grace in A Little Saint

Brett and I knew we wanted to wait to start a family. Being married would be so new to us and we really wanted to get used to living together and to enjoy the many firsts as a family of two. So when we saw those two pink lines show up as we stared at that pregnancy test, only two weeks after returning from our honeymoon, it was an immediate rush of emotions. There were feelings of fear and denial. But, of course, a rush of love overcame us too.

We couldn't believe that we were expecting a honeymoon baby (although our NFP chart told us that was a possibility). We were fearful because it seemed like our first few months of marriage were going to be planning for a baby after just ending the stress of wedding planning. Of course, we would be planning for the rest of our lives, not just one day. We decided to make a medical appointment and wait to tell anyone until it was confirmed.

We spent the next few weeks figuring out where we preferred the towels to be in our closet, who was the neatest (not me), and a lot of small habits about each other. When I reached the 8-week mark and the doctor’s appointment finally arrived, we walked into the room with lots of continued fears but in the silence of both our hearts, there was joy and excitement. I had already thought about where we would fit a small bassinet in our tiny apartment, started a journal for the baby, and imagined which of Bretts' features it would have. Then we looked up at the screen which should have been showing us our 8-week old baby. There was only an empty, black circle. We should have heard a heartbeat. Instead, we heard nothing.

Brett had to return to work and I went back home for a few hours before I, too, had to go to work. I couldn't believe it. Our little honeymoon baby would not be here in May...or ever. I sat alone in the silence of our apartment and attempted to process my feelings. The shock, anger, and sadness all felt so heavy on my heart. We grieved over our little baby for some time.

Then we quickly were reminded of the fact that our baby is in heaven, with God. That although we were never able to hold our baby in our arms, Jesus and Mary already were. I don’t ever think death is God’s plan. I refuse to say that God chose to take that baby from us. He wouldn’t do that. But I do believe in grace. I believe that God uses everything for our benefit — even the death of our loved ones. Everything is grace.

There was grace in finding out how quickly our plans can change, reminding us to rely more on God and less on us. There was grace in knowing how fast our hearts opened to make room to love our child. There is grace now, 9 months later when I think about the what-ifs. My first Mother’s Day and this whole week as our due date came and went. This time was filled with grace. Grace is knowing that our child is a saint.

After all, that is what Brett and I are called to do, raise saints. We began to pray for our children together when we knew we would be marrying each other and still do every day. With our first baby, holiness came at only 8-weeks. We have hope that one day we will hold our first baby in our arms when our life comes to an end. We have hope that our little saint is our most powerful intercessor, praying before the throne of God for us.

So the grace of this time of our lives is that we are the parents of a saint.

Baby A Duke, pray for us.