Why Would Jesus Take Our Baby?
This has been my daughter’s question on and off since the day, about three weeks ago now, when I went to the hospital full of expectation of holding a new baby in my arms and ended up returning home without. What’s harder is I really don’t have an answer for her.
It’s been a long, difficult three weeks. While I’m very slowly recovering from what happened, there are still so many more questions than answers. And maybe there never will be a good answer.
The medical system here works slowly. (When it works at all.) I’m waiting to get some testing results, but I’m not holding out much hope of them revealing anything conclusive. Seems like every time doctors run tests on me, the results don’t really tell them much.
Why would Jesus take our baby and leave me feeling like I’m surrounding by mothers who are caring for newborns? It feels like everywhere I go lately, there’s a mother, sometimes more than one, lugging an infant carseat or pushing a stroller or with her baby wrapped to her chest. Friends of ours have a teeny, tiny premie and are constantly sharing pictures of her progress. And, while I almost never used to get to see other people’s babies, I’ve been blessed to hold two on different occasions recently.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for these people. At the same time, I’m sad for me. And I’m sad for my daughter who was so looking forward to having a sibling.