I should have been in the hospital today. I wouldn’t have minded hours of labor pains to hold a soft, newborn baby in my arms and press my nose against his sweet head. This aching thought woke me at 2:30 in the morning and had me sniffling and snuffling tears till sunrise.
My only consolation is what I remember reading about infants who die. According to Sondra Abrams in Afterlife, who died clinically and came back, there are “nurseries in heaven.” Marietta Springer in We saw Heaven describes a vision she was given that when a baby dies, the guardian angel escort him to the nurseries in heaven and groups him with others of similar artistic, scientific, and social abilities where that child could best develop. These children were grouped into “families” and instructed by angels, who also sang and played divine music for them. She saw how the angels taught the children about the cross and redemption and brought them before Jesus. Each child, she said, was filled with “a holy love and a desire to learn.” Her angel explained as he showed her the various buildings, where the children would go on to higher learning.
Although we on earth believe no one can love a child more than a mother, I am confident (even without those two visions) that the angels, Our Blessed Mother and Heavenly Creator love my baby more than I do. I don’t imagine either one of my babies would voluntarily return to earth with the splendor and purity they have beheld, so the cross of grief and loss is mine alone. But, with expectant faith, I can rejoice at my saints in heaven and yearn for the day when separation between families and exile from my true home is just a memory.