When I was pregnant with Savannah I never worried about how she was doing. She was safe in my belly, growing every day, snuggled in tight. When we lost our second baby last May, my world was changed in so many ways. I mourned the loss of our tiniest Atkins - all of the potential of who he or she could’ve grown to be and the ways our family would’ve been changed. It helped to know our precious little sweetie was in the best place possible, and even though I would not have the privilege of knowing the little one now, we would have eternity to spend catching up.
Ever since the beginning of the new year I’ve found my thoughts wandering to the new tiny life growing in my belly. Our second baby’s due date was December 25th, and as that day came and went, my thoughts turned to the memories I have of Savannah when she was new – her rounded little back, her tiny features, and even nursing her around the clock.
I love our newest tiny blessing, and even though I’m in well into the 4th month with a nicely rounding bump, I find myself wondering. Wondering if the baby is ok, if I’ll have the opportunity to hold and nurture this little one, if this pregnancy will end with empty arms and another tender place in my heart.
I shared struggle with a good friend and fellow missionary yesterday. She was so truthful and encouraging, and as I read the words in her email one truth jumped out at me - God loves my children more than I do. Sometimes I act as if that’s impossible. I plead with the Lord as though I need to bargain with Him for their welfare. I forget that their creator, sustainer, and savior does indeed love them more than I could ever imagine. Before they were ever mine, they were His, and long after I’m done raising them and they leave my home they will still be His precious children.
Of course I still long to be the mother of many children; to love and cherish them and raise them to know and love the Lord. I long to know this little one; but last night as I lay down to fall asleep, one thought drowned out all others – God loves my children more than I do. As I let that truth sink in deep I felt a little kick, and another, and another, and another. I hadn’t felt the baby move for sure for several weeks, and as tears of joy rolled down my cheeks I knew that no matter how much I love this child, I’ll never even be able to imagine the depth of God’s love. No matter what happens, my children are His precious sons and daughters and they belong in His hands.