Saying Goodbye | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Saying Goodbye | Previous Challenge Entry
By Matthew Eldridge
08/25/09
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The doctor placed her in my arms. I surveyed every inch of her, memorizing every minute detail of her tiny body. Her hands were cold and blue, and yet I continued to caress them as if she could feel me. I had heard the cry of so many babies over the years. I longed to hear my baby’s cry. I whimpered, “I love you, Megan.” I kissed Megan’s lifeless cheek. Suffocating in my sorrow, I had no words for the doctor, the nurses, or even the friendly visitors who came to celebrate what should have been a joyous event.

I reached for my wife, but she seemed just as lifeless. She was broken and confused. Defeat devoured her. She was raped of joy, a helpless victim to unfair circumstance.

I didn’t want to let her go. I knew that I would never hold my Megan again. I just sat there, staring at this precious, innocent child, this babe, this gift from God. Ah. A gift- that’s what she was. We called her our miracle child. For years we prayed for her conception, and against all medical indications of our inability to conceive, a beautiful child was formed from our love. My wife carried her for nine long months. We celebrated with every leap and somersault Megan did in mommy’s tummy. We rejoiced when she responded to my singing. We laughed and cuddled with every kick. She was a beautiful life, living inside of my wife, my best friend, my lover.

There was an aroma of death in the room. I could feel it, smell it - even taste it. It was a heavy, sorrowful weight that consumed us like summertime humidity. It was more powerful than any G force on any rollercoaster I’ve ever encountered.

It’s hard to understand why God would take her so soon. God, why? I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say to him. After all, he took my child away, he took my precious Megan. He was still God, and he was still worthy of my worship.

I could barely force enough air across my parched vocal chords to make a sound. I had sung for thousands, but this audience of one proved the most difficult of all. I lowered my head, studying Megan’s face as I sang. “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…”

The tears streamed down my wife, my sweet Laura’s face. She reached for me, and I drew close to her. Together we cried and sang, and as our praises filled the room, we were enveloped in love: God’s love. Somehow, his amazing presence transformed our dreary hospital room into a sanctuary where the Spirit of God dwelled. I could almost confess that I saw angels around us, hovering over us, dancing in our worship. I felt strengthened. Everything seemed to be in perspective.

At the end of the tune, I kissed Megan again, and knew that I had to say my final goodbye. It was going to be ok, I reassured myself. I understood the bigger picture, somehow. It wasn’t about me, my wife, or Megan. It was about him. I thanked my Lord for the wonderful nine months I got to know Megan in Laura’s tummy.

The nurse returned, and as she reached for my baby, I knew that I could let go. This was my offering. This was my gift to God.

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