Printing Pictures

Today I went to print some of the photos of Seth. Maggie the care nurse from the hospital (she still calls and checks on me) told me to…she told me print pictures of Seth. Take them with me. Show the pictures of Seth to people who care about me. Talk about Seth. He was real. He was beautiful. Maggie said it is so important to share him with others. So yes I printed pictures of Seth. These photos were taken by a professional photographer. after he died.  I know some of you may not understand it….I will have to explain it another time. Today I need to tell you how the printed pictures impacted me.

I went into Walgreen’s and I was on a mission. I would print the pictures of my son. I chose instant prints as I knew I could not wait around an hour for them to be printed. I put my memory card in and began choosing the pictures to be printed. The photographer assistant came and entered the code. I showed her my copyright release from Bella Baby photography. She said “oh I am familiar with Bella Baby.” I became nervous. She knew I was making pictures of my baby. What would she ask me? Would she look at the pictures and ask me about him? Would she ask when he was born? Would I have to tell her that my baby had passed away? Oh please don’t ask me. I didn’t look in her eyes.

I paid for my pictures and a photo album that I had picked out. Then I went to the van. Before I could even leave Walgreen’s I was looking at the pictures and touching them. I began longing to touch my son again. I could see every detail about him. I placed them in the order that best told his story. I flipped through the pages again and again. See, he was real. My baby Seth was real. He was not only real, he was so perfect. The tears began to flow down my face. I just don’t understand. He is so wonderfully and fearfully made.

He was creatively designed by God. His little body was perfectly formed with every little detail. He had fuzzy hair the side of his face. The hair on top of his was a dark brown. It layed so perfectly in place. He had extra long fingernails. His feet were big and his toes were perfect. His ears were tiny. His long finegers were wrapped around mine. He looks like his Daddy and maybe a little like Lydia. I was so grateful for the pictures. . There he was….my son….my 6^th child. And I love him. I love every detail about him.

But as I sit in the van and cry the questions consume my mind. God please tell me why? Wasn’t I promised him? Every detail about him was perfectly formed. I had carried him for nine months. God you had put your designing hand on him. You created every detail. You placed every hair on his head. Why wasn’t I able to give birth to him to give him life? I don’t understand. Why couldn’t I have him? Why couldn’t I see him take his first breath? Why did you take him away from me? Don’t you think I am a good mother? Did you choose me to be Seth’s mommy? Why do I have to now parent him here from earth while he is in heaven? So many questions. I hear no answers, I hear songs on the radio as I drive home about being led to the cross and accepting God’s strength not my own. Ok…maybe I do need to surrender to the Lord all of this grief, this unbearable pain. But that doesn’t give my Seth back.