Glory Baby

It's the time of year on the cattle farm we live on to separate the calves from their mamas. In the following days we'll go out on horseback and help drive the herd in to the lots where mamas and calves will be separated. As this process begins, I can already hear the mamas calling for their babes amidst the dust and shuffling of hooves. They call out for their calves they have been dedicated to protect. The protection of their babes has become their purpose and identity.

In April when Luke and I found out we were unexpectedly pregnant, I became that protective mama. In fear of miscarriage, I gave up riding, all caffeine, and began planning for our little one's life. I willingly gave up important parts of myself, as selfish as I felt for being so upset over not riding for the foreseeable future, and took on my new role as a mother responsible for protecting her child. 

When we found out we were in fact miscarrying, I was devastated. My heart was torn open. I was unsure of how to continue in a life and routine I had changed for our babe. The grief so unimaginable. I identify with those mama cows. So disoriented and screaming for their babes. I felt like a hollow shell when we returned from my D&C procedure, suddenly feeling unfamiliar with my own body. I had no idea my body would physically grieve so much. After a week in bed and a slow process of easing back into life, I have learned to go on one step at a time, sometimes with groans to deep for words.

I'm still that protective mama, there's no changing me- once a mama, always a mama. I find myself still planning for our babe's little life just to remember the gut wrenching truth. It's still a time of going home early on date night because I can't handle seeing the babies in their hats and boots at the rodeo. It's still a time of not knowing how interact socially in a world who doesn't know I'm a mama. 

I don't write for pity or sympathy or understanding. I write for the other mamas out there, the ones who don't get to hold their babies in their arms.

Because I have one hope and one hope alone.

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans too deep for words." - Romans 8:26

Jesus all too well knows our pain and He is sovereign.

As a mama who's job is to protect and keep my child, Jesus has brought my heart's longing to fruition.

It was and is my job to protect my child on this side of Heaven. No matter how long. And I did that to the best of my ability. It is a constant battle to remind myself that I did not fail. 

For my God is sovereign. 

In my grief and weakness, this is my hope: that Jesus is holding my child. 

My little one never has to know the pain and suffering of this world. All my child will ever know is Jesus. That is all this mama's heart ever wanted. 

Jesus has brought to completion his plan for this child all along, to know Him. He is the one who has done was I wasn't able to.

Though I never got to hold my babe in my arms, my heart can rest easy knowing that my child will ever only know the protection underneath the shadow of His wings. 

There is a hole in my life this side of Heaven, but i can rejoice and say I'm a mama to a glory baby.