It's been so long since I've written down my thoughts I'm not sure I know how anymore.
It is quiet time in the Woolley house. The peace of this hour of the day is bringing such content to my heart I felt I had to write it down.
My oldest, now six, (that is her picture at left) is napping away a nasty headache. My second is reading quietly on the love seat, thrilled that she can join the world of readers. I smile and nod as she shows me pictures of dinosaur bones and counts them; watch her as she turns the pages of her 'ABC' book and quietly murmurs the alphabet song to herself, trying to commit the letter forms to memory.
My third girlie sits contentedly in my lap, burbling her thoughts to a plastic cow. While I enjoy her closeness I reach down into a basket of warm laundry, fresh from the dryer. The rhythm of reach, fold, fold, and the soft thump of a child's sweater hitting the laundry basket keep us company. She rubs her eyes and lays her head against my chest.
The sweet and quiet joys of motherhood at home!
With the baby down for her second nap of the day, I resume the familiar rhythm of folding the laundry. Bored with her picture books, my little one asks to help. Together we create piles of blue, gold, and often pink clothing, the stripes creating a satisfying if haphazard order to the mountain of cotton and fleece. She asks me if I think Daddy will buy us a pink house someday? Not very likely, I tell her, but you can ask him. She says she will, and then, finished with folding, asks for crayons and leaves me alone to write.
The day is chilly but the sun is out and I hope we'll be able to walk this afternoon. I'm longing for some spring air, but I don't know if the eldest's headache will keep us from enjoying any exercise today.
A quiet joy presses in, and I know the sweet pain of a mother who knows her children are growing and there is nothing she can do to stop it. If I could only freeze this perfect moment!
The artist is done with her work, she brings it to me for approval and critique. Tell me about it, I say. It's a pink house, she says, and it's full of the children who live in it. I notice there are three stories, just like our town home, and everyone in the picture is a girl. I smile and tell her I like it very much.
Three girls. Three daughters. Such beauty and laughter in our home! I wonder if the children I lost were girls too. I wonder if I have sons or daughters waiting in glory. I miss them. Sometimes I count heads in the kitchen and wonder if the baby is upstairs crying. But all the babies are already present. I instinctively look for the souls that have passed on. Wee ones I was never able to hold. A mother's heart does not forget.
My heart floods with gratefulness. I lift a thankful heart to the Lord for the children he has given. I pray for His blessing on the life that I am now carrying. I ask Him for health and life and happiness. This is my sixth pregnancy. I wonder if this will be the son we have prayed for...?
I could never deal with the grief of loss alone, and that is why I never keep these things a secret. I am so thrilled to be carrying this child, and so terrified that I will not be allowed to keep it, that each day is a gift. Who can know what tomorrow brings? But today, I will rejoice.
I am humbled and honored that God gives us another child.
Lord, you are beautiful, and Your creation is beautiful, and I am filled with joy in the work you are doing within me. All praise and glory are your due. May your name be magnified in all the earth, Amen.
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