Losing Iris

Dear Iris,

A few weeks ago someone talked to me about you. It completely caught me off guard. “You have 4 kids, right? Or you would have 4 with your baby girl. She was so beautiful with snow-white skin and dark black hair. Oh, and those chubby, bright red little cheeks.” She said it with such joy, without so much as a flinch. I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses because they served to cover my eyes filled with tears. I must admit, I was almost too afraid to blink in fear they’d escape. My tears were not of sorrow, nor of pain. No, they were much more beautiful than that. They were tears of joy. Someone else still remembers you. I’m not used to people mentioning you. Not many people do. I suppose people don’t really know what to say regarding you. I’ll sometimes bring you up in conversation, although I’ve learned not to. It makes them uncomfortable. We went on to talk about you for a bit.

I mentioned how much my sweet little surprise, your baby brother, Josiah, is the one whom most resembles you. Sometimes, when he sleeps I stare at him, and if I stare at him long enough I can almost catch a glimpse of what you would look like at age 5.

Your little sister, Isabella, thinks of you often. It’s interesting on how someone who never met you can love you so much. She wishes we could have kept you, but I always remind her God’s ways are higher. She knows you rest in the arms our Savior. Daddy asked for us to give her your middle name. She was so amazed the day she realized you two had that in common! Jizelle.

I remember how after I’d lost you I felt this overwhelming restlessness to fill my arms with your tiny, chubby little body. I was so desperate for you. I was ready for a baby. I was a mom without a baby to nurture and care for. I thank God for sending me the sweetest little baby boy, Isaiah. I kinda feel like you hand-picked him just for us. He was the perfect little baby and is the most caring little person I’ve ever met. He, too, loves you and thinks of you often.

I know you are well. If I chose to write you this letter it is simply to say I love you. I have not forgotten you. I think about you all of the time. I wish for you all of the time. I miss you all of the time. I am forever grateful to God for gracing me with your life, even if it was for just a moment. You taught me so much more than anyone could ever teach me. God used you to teach me how to love. Love deeply, full-heartedly, and selflessly.

With so much love,

Mommy

I’m a Carrier

A couple of weeks after I lost Iris (my 1st born), I was at my husband’s office working on a poem and remembrance frame for my little angel. After everyone left for lunch and my husband left to a meeting, I became overwhelmed with pain and grief and consumed myself in tears. I turned off all the lights from the office and set the door sign to “CLOSED”. I remember sitting there in the back room with my arms folded on top of my desk and my head buried in them. I cried in agony, grief-stricken. Suddenly, I heard the front door open and I was confused because I knew I had locked it. I wiped off my tears but I didn’t have the strength to get up. My youngest sister had dropped by the office. I heard her call my name, but I ignored her. I just couldn’t bear anyone seeing me like that. She continued to make her way towards the back and so I whispered because that’s all I could muster, “I’m back here.” She came into the office and asked me what I was doing. I couldn’t respond. My heart was heavy. The room was dark, but I knew she could tell I had been crying. She sat across the desk from me and held my hands as I continued my crying. I know she was crying right along with me. I know God had sent her to show me He was with me. I don’t know how long we sat there in the quiet, cold, dark room, but I do know her presence served to comfort me like no words could have. I could feel her pray over me. Silent prayers of comfort. She had brought Holy Spirit.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. (2 Corinthians 2:14 ESV)

There isn’t always a need for a speech or fancy words. Sometimes our presence is enough. We speak Jesus everywhere we go, whether we say anything at all, or not. We are carriers of the Holy Spirit and His presence is prominent in us. It is marvelous to know our worth through Him. We bring comfort, joy, peace, and love without ever even opening our mouths. There will be times when Holy Spirit gives you the perfect words, and there will be times when they won’t be needed. We are carriers of the presence of God. We are the vessel He has chosen to use to reach this world. Your presence is more than enough. After all, you bring Jesus!

Mom Blogger,

Rosalinda Serna

There is pain that runs so deep that not even the arms of your most loved ones serve to fully comfort it. Only the Lord could mend such broken heart. I remember the nights after losing Iris as the longest most painful nights of my life. I couldn’t sleep. My heart was consumed with grief and sorrow. I longed to hold her, to keep her, raise and her and watch her grow.

It’s been almost 12 years now that I was blessed with the most beautiful little angel. To a healthy 7 lb. 3 oz. baby girl; except that she was born sleeping. She was my first-born and I was completely devastated. It’s the hardest thing in world to walk into a hospital full of hopes and dreams for the baby you carry in your womb and leave with empty arms, empty dreams and a broken heart. Sometimes God allows things to happen that are not within our control. For some reason, he chose this for her and for me. My husband became such a strong tower in my life, only he knew how deeply I was hurting because he was hurting just as much. He’d hold me tight while I’d cry myself to sleep but no matter how much he tried to comfort me, I was inconsolable. The overwhelming feeling of grief, sadness, shock, disbelief, and even a strong sense of fault and regret consumed me. I found refuge in the arms of my heavenly Father. Most times I had no words, my prayer consisted solely of crying in His presence. I knelt at the foot of my bed and wept for hours on end. I’d walk into her fully decorated nursery and grab the tiny baby girl dresses that I had hanging in her closet and weep in the presence of God. I found comfort in my Father’s arms. But even in the midst of my grief there was peace. A peace that passed all understanding. (Phil 4:7) I felt God telling me time and time again to submit myself to His will because His ways were much greater.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Heb. 11:1)

I now have three beautiful healthy strong little ones that fill my life with so much happiness and joy! They are my greatest reward. When I look at them, I can hear God whispering into my ear, “Well done, good and faithful servant; in the little you were faithful, I will make you ruler over many things: enter into the joy of your Lord.” Keep your head strong and your heart focused on God and let Him lead you where He may. I can assure you, you will be blessed. My testimony now serves as a blessing to others and although I still feel pain when I think about my Iris, I know that Gods purpose for her in my life was much greater than I could have ever imagined! I’ll always miss never being able to hear her laugh or cry, never being able to hear her say her first word, take her first step, her first day of school, to watch her grow, but someday I will get to hold her again.

My children are so beautiful to me. On the days when I’m lost in the chaos that having three little ones can bring, I remind myself that I am blessed. I remember those long, dreary nights that I so desperately wanted to fill my arms with their presence and now I am rejoicing in this moment for my time has come! Keep your focus on God, He will see you through! Submit yourself to His complete will and watch His ultimate plan unfold in your life.

“God is my refuge and strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble.” (Psalms 46:1)

Mom of an angel,

Rosalinda Serna