Isaac, My Little Lamb

a gift from a friend who understands too well.

I have rarely spoken his name and almost never heard it said. That’s the part about miscarriage that makes you feel insane. You fall instantly in love with someone you have never met, never seen, and have barely known. I decided afterwards that I needed to give my baby a name and a gender. Of course, I didn’t get to find out for sure; but I always had a feeling (maybe it’s mother’s intuition) that our baby was a boy. We had decided on the name Isaac. This is the difficult part, the part that doesn’t make for good social media. Saying “miscarriage” is hard but it is nothing compared to saying “Isaac”. I have many times begged the Lord for images of my son. What He gave me was not what I expected. One morning as I prayed for God to give me something to remind me of Isaac, the image of a lamb popped into my head and I couldn’t shake it. He reminded me of Abraham bringing Isaac to be sacrificed and many other references to lambs in scripture, each dying while they were young and pure. I came home and told my husband that story and he said that God had given him the same image as an answer to the same prayer that neither of us knew the other one had prayed. So I’m trying to say his name aloud and let it heal my heart as I say it. I am trying to honor him when I see a lamb. But it is hard. It hurts in a different way than remembering the trauma of miscarriage. Because this is the aftermath. I can’t just read quotes about grief or hide behind the picture of a person in pain anymore. Now I have to live in a world where all I have of my son on earth is the image of a lamb. It’s hard to love a child in Heaven, but I’m doing the best I can. And it starts with saying his name

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