I Couldn’t Save My Own Baby

emptycradleThrough the pain of loss, I have had to come to grips with many difficult things.

Perhaps one of the hardest is the fact that I couldn’t save my own baby…

She was in my womb. It was my job to protect her and nourish her for nine months. I was her life source.

Yet she got in trouble and I couldn’t help her.

I didn’t even know.

Oh the tears I have cried over my inability to save my child.

While moms are gentle nurturers at heart, we are also made with a fighting side. A stronger than life instinct to protect our children. This God-given sense is so powerful that moms can sometimes perform super-human feats. This protective instinct is the thing that rises up from deep inside if we sense one of our children is in danger. And it is the thing that makes us know we would lay down our lives in an instant to protect them.

As soon as I knew that I was pregnant last November, this momma fight kicked into high gear for my second child. I guarded my belly like a hawk. I considered my baby’s safety before I ate, slept, traveled, worked, lifted something, goofed around, exercised, or did anything. If anyone even got close to bumping my belly, I had to restrain myself from slugging them.

The life inside me was valuable beyond anything in this world. I would fight to keep this baby safe. My whole focus was on bringing this child forth healthy. I loved her. I cherished her. I was her mommy. I would do anything for her.

And yet, when something bad happened, I was powerless to help her. This reality has been extremely difficult for me to swallow. It feels horribly wrong and goes against everything inside my mommy heart.

Mommies protect. Mommies love. Mommies fix the hurts. Mommies hold tight. Mommies comfort. Mommies nurture. Mommies bandage wounds. And mommies watch their babies grow up.

Mommies don’t live ignorantly unaware that their babies are in danger.  Mommies don’t stand by helplessly while their babies die. Mommies don’t say goodbye before they can even say hello. Mommies don’t live their whole lives without their babies.

In February, I came face to face with a new side of motherhood. The side where dreams are gone and happy feelings become only faint memories. The side where warm mommy feelings become chilling realities of death. And I realized, in one moment, just how helpless I really was to protect my children.

This new reality has caused me to feel so vulnerable, like nothing and no one is safe. In the last months, I have found myself vacillating wildly in how I take care of Kyla. One day, I may get up several times in the night to check on her. The next, I throw my hands up, horrified by the realization that if she was in real trouble, I might not even be able to help her.

It is a difficult place to be. Wanting more than ever to grasp tightly to everything dear and never let go, yet knowing how helpless I really am to prevent accidents.

As I have wrestled with this painful reality, this is what I have concluded:

My children are not mine.

My two precious girls are God’s. They don’t really belong to me, they belong to Him. He is the one who made them, and He really holds them.

Esther is God’s baby. He created her, and she would never have been without Him. I will never understand why Esther wasn’t protected in the womb. But I entrust her to God’s eternal care, because she is His. I long for the day I will be reunited with her.

Kyla is God’s baby. While I am left feeling helpless as a mother, I remind myself who gave her life. I can’t protect her. I can’t save her from danger myself. But He can. And I choose to entrust her to God’s care here on the earth.

There is a freedom that comes knowing that my life and my family are not my own. We have given ourselves completely to God, and He keeps us. We will trust Him, knowing that the pains of this life are really temporary, while His eternal salvation is forever. He sees the whole picture, while I can only see a small piece. From His view, everything is beautiful.

There is so much I don’t understand. But here is what I am purposing to do:

When I start to feel the helplessness of this life, I will depend more on Him. I will trust His ability more than my own. I will rest, knowing that He is in control of my life and my family.


  1. Adam Waller says:

    Very insightful honey!
    I am so glad we can journey this life together!

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