Empty Arms

The day we found out about you

My Darling Regen,
I never wanted to write this. No mother should ever have to write this. But you are gone and I am empty. I knew you for seven weeks of my life and right away you became my life. I wrote you many letters already in your journal, wondering who you would be. A writer like me or a musician like your father? Your dad hoped you would have my skin and I hoped you would have his nose. Do you have my eyes? I told you no matter who you were we would delight in you every second of your life. I thought for sure that no mother had ever loved her baby more than me, and I didn't even know your name.
When the blood came all I could do was lift my hands in surrender. And then it left and we went to lead worship, your father and I, trusting that you were all snug because we were chosen to be parents. Everything was coming together in a crazy God way and we were going to start your life. Then more blood came and we drove to the hospital. We sat there for hours baby, the last hours of your life. I knew when you were gone, in the bathroom stall with the bright red. We saw you soon after for the third time and for the last. The doctor was very quiet, searching. "There is no heart beat." She said in her thick German accent and we clung to one another. Parents. Mom and Dad.
She wanted to have the operation right away but we needed to know for sure. Then we drove home again and you fell into the toilet. Your father lovingly scooped you out and we rushed back to the hospital where they poked me and undressed me and put me to sleep so they could scrape the rest of my child out of me.

As we were driving home the strangest thing happened. It was raining and very cloudy and in the sky was a rainbow. No sun Regen, but a rainbow. Right away I heard the words- Never again. We named you Regen because the German word for rainbow is Regenbogen. You are named after a promise from the only Father you know right now, the one who is holding you in His arms and laughing. We were so excited to teach you all about Him, but you are learning first hand exactly what He is like. After we named you we found out that in Celtic, Regen means Little Princess. We know you are a girl not because the doctor told us, it was too soon to find out, but because when His children ask, sometimes He gives the answer. You are my daughter and one day you will teach me all I have to know about life.
But right now Mommy sees only what is here on earth and she is in so much pain. You see clearly but I see hurt and grief. I am confused and my arms ache. Today I am doing the normal, I cut my nails and trimmed my hair, I laughed at something your dad said and watched my favourite show. Slowly the fog is lifting but I still don't know how to cope without you.
Do you know what you have taught me baby? Through you I went to the deepest, darkest pit, and I saw Jesus there. Fear has haunted my steps since I was a little girl, but on June 29th 2014, my fear was replaced by grief and sorrow. I would rather have anything then fear. I am covered by the peace of our Daddy, He who holds you and who holds me. I know now, like "Much Afraid" in "Hinds Feet on High Places," that right down in the depths of my own heart, I really only have but one passionate desire, not for the things which Jesus has promised me, but for Himself. All I want is to be able to follow Him forever. So I will continue to dance with our Father. Though I know it will bring more pain and grief, and I won't see clearly what He is doing, I will fall in step and gaze into the eyes that hold you captive right now. The One that is your only desire.


I saw a little boy riding a bicycle the other day and I asked Jesus if He was going to give you one. He told me that He is going to give you wings.

I love you daughter.
Your Mom