Missing One Angel

As I was holding my fifth child tonight, I remembered someone. Someone who I thought was not special, at the time. Someone who I thought I could live without and forget. You forget many things with age, but I will never forget October 26, 1990. I was seventeen and pregnant my senior year in high school. I was selfish and arrogant and came from an abusive home. I thought there was no way my father could find out about this baby. Somehow, someway, I would "fix" this. So the day before my mother's birthday I went to an abortion clinic and did what I thought needed to be done. I came home feeling pretty empty, and didn't understand why. Then, there I saw the first and only thing I had bought for my baby. I had bought a scrapbook to keep all my precious memories. I bought it before I thought about all the work and other things that would come with having a baby. I also got rid of my baby before I knew of all the wonderful things that would come with having a precious little angel. Needless to say, the book remains empty.

As years went on I tried to forget about this precious soul. I never knew if it was a boy or a girl. My first four children were all boys. I wanted a girl so badly. I thought God was punishing me. Maybe I had murdered my only daughter as a rash and selfish teenager. I grieved over this. Sometimes it was hard to hide my tears and sorrow. Of course I had to hide it. I was so ashamed of what I had done. I couldn't tell anyone. Looking into the faces of my other four children only reminded me of what I given up. After the fourth child, I gave up on having a girl. I was so emotionally exhausted from feeling let down and undeserving of a precious daughter.

Then, just as I had given up, I found out I was pregnant again. This was totally unplanned, totally unaffordable and not to mention I just didn't think I had it in me to go through it again. I called that same abortion clinic. Trying to tell myself this time I am not being selfish, this time I'm doing it for the kids I already have. I had the money saved and the appointment was made. But the guilt and the loss all came flooding back ten-fold. I found myself in a corner sitting on the floor crying. I just couldn't do it, not again. I think at that point when I was weeping and sobbing uncontrollably, God knew I had learned my lesson. I had suffered enough. I had a baby girl nine months later. When I think of how close she came to the same fate as my first child, it sickens me to no end. I love her so much it hurts and she has helped fill a void in my life.

But as I went on a car ride with her tonight I started feeling guilty for loving her so much. I tried to visualize the child that I didn't save. The child that I destroyed. I cried and prayed out loud "Jesus please take care of my precious baby." I know he/she is in a better place then I could have ever provided. But the hurt that I never got to know my child devours my soul at times. I started thinking I hope she didn't think I hated her. (And yes, I have always thought in my heart it was a girl.) I wish I could tell her that I was sorry, and if I had to do it over again she would be with me. Just because I didn't know my baby, and I was ultimately the cause of her demise...didn't mean I didn't love her. I just didn't know it until it was too late. I quietly mourn her and think of her often. So tonight as I was crying because I missed her, I also cried with happiness that I didn't do the same unmentionable thing to my new baby. She will always be special to me, in a different way then all my other children.
So tonight as I am still feeling empty because I know this is all my fault, I hope in some way God has let my child know that I love her. I wish my child was with me so badly it becomes unbearable at times. I wish I had that scrapbook full of memories. I wish I could have braided her hair and shared secrets. I wish I could hold her. Her memory haunts me. So tonight I honor her in the only way I can. I'm telling our story so that maybe one other little boy or girl will be holding hands with their mommy tomorrow. My silent horror will never end. Maybe someone else's will never begin.

As one reviewer pointed out to me, I really felt the need to add this to our story. I never saw my boys as my punishment from God, only the lack of having a daughter. I see my handsome guys as blessings also. All my children have touched my life in special ways.