The empty spots in the Garden

Alicia, the Catholic midwife, has written a beautiful piece on her blog about the stillbirth of one of her clients.

One of the rosebushes has started blooming and even the nasturtiums look happy.

True, there are empty spots in the garden where some anticipated plants just didn’t make it through the strange weather or the depredations of whatever was nibbling. I haven’t put new plants in those spots. I don’t know yet if I will. Those empty spaces remind me that I am not the one in charge here, that God has given us a chance to nurture and harvest but that He alone really runs the show.

The empty spots in the beautiful garden – what an apt analogy.

I have always felt great sympathy for moms who have had stillbirths, ever since I was at least 10 years old and learned about “stillbirth” in a story I was reading. I remember how shocked I was to read that. That something could be so backward – to die before one was even born? I remember taking the book to my mom and grandma who were sitting together in the living room. Although I remember the knowing glances passing between them, I don’t remember that they said anything that soothed my mind about this discovery. And Alicia is right in the title of her blog post- it did seem like an injustice and in someways still does.

Maybe my reading that book at that age, with that kind of sensitivity was God’s way of preparing me in my life for things that would happen to me decades later. I don’t know but I have often thought about that.

Of course having and sympathy and empathy isn’t the same as being in the club. I had my own stillbirth 17 months ago and have since known the sorrow I had been so sympathetic for.

I love Alicia’s analogy. It does feel like an empty spot that can’t be filled, or maybe will never grow over. Even in the midst of the other beautiful plants that “spot” still stands out, even if only the mom can see it.

To take her analogy a bit farther, my garden ( my home, husband and 5 living kidlets) still need tending. There are weeds to pull and mulch to spread, grass to mow and new plants to bring in. Sometimes I can get so busy with all of it that the little bare spot isn’t at the front of my mind. It’s still there. I’m probably the only one that glances at it though or knows its significance.

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