They say it is helpful to give you a name. That is hard for me since I don’t know if God created you BOY or GIRL. Big sister calls you “Cookie,” but that doesn’t sound like a very serious name. And you, my precious baby, are very significant.
I waited for you for 40 months. I carried you in my womb for 7.5 weeks before your heart stopped beating. Two more weeks passed before my body would let you go.
I am surprised how much I have wept because of you. I have grieved over you and felt deep loss at my very core. It’s the kind of loss that takes and gives at the same time – a holy loss that burns and refines.
As your body was failing you, my broken body was powerless to save you. I wanted nothing more than to mend you and make you whole again so I could keep you with me a little longer.
What shall I call you?
I don’t see you as the world sees you: small, insignificant and lifeless. Although your physical frame measures less than an inch, I choose to see you through faith’s eyes: strong, purposeful and alive.
I think I will call you “Strength.”
That is what your father’s name means, and “strength” is the word my Heavenly Father gave me for our family this year. It was given before you were conceived.
Yes, your name fits you.
It was by His strength that you were brought to the point of life, of heart, of spirit, and of soul. It was in His strength that we buried what was left of your body in the ground while keeping our hope intact. And it is through His strength we press forward, viewing your life and death through the lens of trust.
I wonder what you are doing at this very moment. Big sister asked if you were running. When I picture you, I see you at the feet of Jesus. Surrounded by millions of souls just like you. Souls that have never seen the sun rise or fall. Souls that have entered eternity without leaving a footprint on earth.
Maybe that’s why the enemy is waging a war here against your kind. Because every time he comes into the presence of the Lord, he has to cross over a sea of innocence. Your very presence in heaven is a constant reminder to him that he can never touch you. You will never be tainted by this sinful world; your eternity is secure.
I want you to know how much I love you; how much I wanted you. My body made a place for you, and although my womb had to let you go, my heart will never stop carrying you. You belong to me.
You will not come back to me, but I will go to you.
We will banquet together at the marriage supper of the Lamb. We will drink side by side, satisfied that every wrong has been made right and every tear has been wiped dry. And we will sing songs. Oh, how we will sing to the LORD, our Strength!
Save me a seat, little one. I will see you soon.
“The LORD is my strength and my shield; My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped; Therefore my heart greatly rejoices, And with my song I will praise Him.” Psalm 28:7