one flesh union


“…and a sword will pierce even your own soul…”
~Luke 2:35~

“I think I’m gonna have to go out to the hill and cry”, I tell him at dinner.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“His birthday…”


I stand up, push in my chair, and excuse myself from the table of husband and happy children.

The ache had been building all day.  It’s like my body knows–remembers.

This is the night he was born.


On the way home from Wendy’s we stopped by the local market.

My favorite cashier was working, the middle-aged mother of four grown sons.  She was Ethan’s Kindergarten cafeteria lady–even remembers how much he hates applesauce.  Every time I go in there she asks about him.

I set the wine on the counter and tell her he turns eleven today.


Knowing she understands I look her in the eye and ask her straight-up.

“That lump in your throat.  The ache.  Does it get any easier?”

She smiled.




Sobbing in the shower.  

Water pours down my body.  

Blood drips down my legs.  

Hospital tiles–the only witness to my grief.  

Baby rests in daddy’s arms.  

I look down–see the place he used to sleep.

But he’s not there anymore.  

He’s gone.  


I return to the house.

Kids are finished with cake and getting ready for bed.

He meets me in the kitchen, catches tears on his shoulder.

Like a night years ago he cannot take away the pain.


But thanks be to God he carries me through it.

One thought on “one flesh union

  1. The depth of a mother’s love surely can’t be measured and sometimes feels hard to fully express. It seems nights like that capture a glimpse into the intensity of it. I started telling Abigail awhile back that she couldn’t turn five. It kind of became a joke but it was I think maybe a slow realization of some grief. Now, I skipped age six because she’s so excited and tell her she can’t turn 7(and add for kicks the reminder that the Bible says children have to obey their parents 😉 ). Shes not fooled and her response? She laughs and says, “But Mom how are you going to be my doula?” 🙂 Can’t fight with that.

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