This was originally posted on DesignedMarriage.com
I wrote this poem about a piece of our journey as parents so far, and Jon created the graphic design to go with the poem. We pray it encourages you to celebrate the Designer of marriage and life, the Designer who makes no mistakes.
No Mistakes (First Trimester) – Video Announcement Click Here
By: Quina Aragon
You were 12 weeks old, much less formless
than in your first picture
sporting your Papa’s nose, his forehead;
so you were in me, but clearly Daddy’s.
We were so scared when
we first heard of you
“A faint pink line doesn’t lie!”
they said, but I took the test 3 times
to triple check.
Thank God for your father,
with his own fears he
led me with him
to lay our dreams, desires,
and confessions of our own selfishness
before Abba in prayer
and, you know,
the sweetest thing started to happen
day by day we felt our excitement
grow with you and my belly, and
we became much more kind and understanding;
we hadn’t met you yet, but already you were a blessing
we couldn’t regret,
and we couldn’t hold it in
I kind of told a bunch of people
before my original time of intent.
With anxieties off and on, I found
my desire to hold you,
counsel you through
life’s mountain climb,
laugh with you,
steadily grew.
So you can imagine
the fear I felt
when I sat up out of bed
to see
a bright red stain on our sheets
the day after we
announced your coming.
You know, Mommy never wants
to pretend
that I always obey God or
have perfect faith in Him
I confess,
I couldn’t quite pray for
almost two days from this.
I was scared to lose you,
scared I did something wrong
that hurt you,
scared to face what many
well-intentioned people say
to those in grief
often only multiplying
a sense of defeat.
Most of all, I was scared
of what God might have
in store for us, knowing that
He never promised a perfect
life here,
and many women He has
bear a child to bear their death
before one year,
and I couldn’t bear that thought,
so I froze in silence…
But we went to the doctor and saw
you still swimming
your heartbeat never sounded
so sweet, 160 beats per minute
(my eyes tearing)
You were alright, and I knew
for certain then
that being Mom to you
is one of my greatest privileges.
But two spots showed up
near you in
that sonogram,
blood clots in
the placenta,
the doctor said
it’s rare yet
women who get it
mostly deliver healthy babies,
but the rest suffer miscarriage.
So there we sat, your dad and I,
with good news that you were alive,
and uncertainty of a thing
we couldn’t control: your destiny
It took me another day to pray,
but when we did I cried,
tears of thankfulness that God
knows my weaknesses,
tears of confession that I’d
been too scared to trust Him,
tears of petition that God
would spare your life,
tears of declaration: “Father,
Your will be done, not mine.”
Your cousin, baby Jaharri,
was 7 months in her mommy’s tummy
before God took her home.
I remember how sweet
Psalm 139 became to me then,
especially verses 13 to 16,
and that’s just what God impressed
on my heart in that prayer,
leading me
to sweet fellowship with Him
and fresh confidence to rest
today, knowing
God’s eyes are on your tiny frame,
written by Him are all your days,
and His book,
yes, every page,
contains
no
mistakes.
