On April 11, 1981, I gave birth to Alana, my first born.....but she never saw me or her dad, because hers was a birthday back into heaven. The unthinkable happened on a beautiful, spring day. When all of life was coming back and blooming, life, that I had longed to hold and see, was denied. When I left to go to the hospital, I left behind a nursery full of circus themed nursery decorations, that I had lovingly made for her arrival. When I came back, there was nothing but an empty room. My husband and family had put away all the decorations, thinking it would be too painful for me to see; instead, the emptiness of that room was more than I could bear.
Her life was cut short by doctor negligence. The umbilical cord had wrapped around her neck, and though there were signs of distress, the doctors and nurse chose to ignore it, despite my cry's of alarm --"You first time mothers think you know it all!", the nurse said. But every Mother knows when her child is in trouble. And so, as my husband prayed for her resurrection that never came, I held her beautiful, still, body in my arms, and looked at the beautiful eyes that couldn't see us, the beginning of curls on her head, her aquiline nose, and lovely mouth....
One day, I will see her again. Until then, she is safe in Jesus's arms. I can't forget her, though it's taboo to talk about a dead child, I don't care. "Stillborn" doesn't negate the beauty that didn't have a chance to be. Somehow, that term has the connotation that maybe that life didn't count; she wasn't, in essence, born, if she wasn't born alive. She was real, though, not a dream, though there are very few days that I don't think of her. I don't tell anyone. They would think it "morbid". I have news for the world. Alana's life was precious, and for that matter, so is ALL life.
Time passes, and another spring comes. This time, there is joy; this time, another doctor doesn't take any chances. It is a tricky delivery, but in the end, my beautiful Shoshana was born. I am so ecstatic, that I can't sleep for a day...I am forever at the nursery window, totally awed at the most beautiful baby....
Time passes, and more springs....and that beautiful daughter has grown distant....the tears I cry for her are no different from the ones cried for her sister...but still the same hope; that Jesus is holding her in His arms, and one day, He will give both of them back to me.
My piece, "Tears for My Daughters" was created on a glass canvas of broken shards of glass on the right that transitions to more solid pieces, that illustrates the brokenness of my life and the process of healing. Various shapes were cut and fused on top, and then illustrated with translucent glass paints. For all mothers with broken hearts, He is our Peace.....
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