Margot Rosemary Gross
This is why I strongly felt led to speak on behalf of Margot today. It isn’t going to be easy or comfortable and I might say something inappropriate, but I am her Mama. And, by virtue of that fact, I spent the most time with her. She deserves to be honored beyond just the specifics of her 9:35 birth on the evening of December 8th, 2018. Weighing 5 pounds and 1 ounce, at 18 1/2 inches long, with dark brown hair, the most lovely lips, nose, fingers, and toes, she was perfection. But those are simply facts. (Maybe slightly biased facts.) Our Margot Rose deserves to be celebrated as a whole person by the one who understood her best: Me.
When we first found out we were pregnant, after the shock mostly wore off, I will admit that I was hoping for a boy. Elijah is -and always has been- such a low-key, mellow guy, even as a baby. But as I progressed further into the pregnancy, I confessed to friends, “I really want a boy, but I think this one might be a girl because she is sucking the life out of me.” And there you go. Margot was stubborn and dramatic from the beginning, so VERY like her Mama. Once the first four months of sickness passed, she grew to LOVE coffee -even the decaf stuff- always wiggling like a happy fish as I savored my cup. Also in true Laura fashion, she hated, I mean HATED exercise! My half-hearted attempts to continue “jogging” through the 2nd trimester were met with disdain. After 20 some minutes, when my poky pacing came to an end and I sat down, she would wait about 10 seconds and then punch or kick my closest organ about 7 or 8 consecutive times. Trust me, she wasn’t shy about sharing her feelings. And like her big brother before her, she took pleasure in keeping me up at night with her hiccups. She wasn’t even stealthy about it. The very second my head hit the pillow, it was Hiccup. “Oh you’re almost asleep?” Hiccup again. What a handful, this girl of ours! Because Margot loved her picture being taken, she forced us multiple times to get high tech ultrasounds- Somewhat revealing her gorgeous face in 3D. So when she was born, her beauty didn’t surprise us -although she still took our breath away- but the grumpy little frown line between her eyes made us laugh. David saw it and then just gave me a LONG pointed look. Elijah ventured up to the bed where I was holding her, slowly examined his sister’s face, and commented, “I don’t think she looks like me.” To which I replied, “That’s because we forgot to bring her mini-Harry Potter glasses.” You see, she IS a member of our family-A very significant part of each of us, another piece of our puzzle.
When people experience loss, especially BIG loss, there can be a tendency to isolate yourself and become petty and embittered by your grief. At least that has been my personal experience. Our years of struggling with infertility, followed by the forced termination of our 5 year adoption journey for our Ethiopian princess caused incredibly strong feelings of pain and resentment. Like “Why can’t one thing be easy?” Although we learned and grew through these experiences, they scarred our family deeply. But then we carried and lost Margot. And -if you know me well at all- you know that I’m sarcastic, unfiltered, and a little uncouth at times, but I also love friends, family, and Jesus with my whole heart. However, I’m not talking to Jesus right now. I don’t want to hear about “strength through loss” or “working things together for good” or how “Margot’s story will touch so many” or that “everything happens for a reason.” Right now, I don’t want our family’s tragedy to be a integral part of some deeper spiritual narrative. Because I am heartbroken and selfish and just want my daughter. One of the few “Bible-y” things that makes any sense to me currently is contained in the verse 2 Corinthians 1:4 which says, “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” After I was induced, knowing my hours of labor would bring a beautiful baby who would never breathe a breath on this earth, I saw this verse in the flesh. Our hospital birthing room, which I had mentally christened the “death theater,” became -in actuality- a holy space. Filled with light and love and support. From our dearest friends, Meghan, Kyle, Tricia, Beth, and both my Jessicas; to the incredible nurses who quickly became dear friends, Jen, Cassie, Jordan, Chelsea, and Rachel; to our amazing, long-suffering, hoagie-pounding photographer Julie; to our Moms, Dads, Uncle, G’ma, and the bravest big brother who were there physically -and the family sending prayers from afar. Every hand held, hug given, tear shed, and laugh shared became another link in the tenuous chain attaching David and I to any hope of returning to some semblance of life after this tragedy. The comfort we received wasn’t just a tremendous kindness from a set of the best people, it was Divine.
At Margot’s baby shower, we displayed a sweet outfit gifted from her Aunt Hannah. Written across the onesie it said, “Worth the Wait.” And although we are devastated, confused, and heartsick, I think both David and I can say that while there are many, many things we wish we could change about this situation, and honestly changing almost EVERYTHING about it would be preferable, we DO agree that the world is better because Margot Rosemary existed. It is hard here, but better. She was worth the wait; Her precious face and sassy spirit have been imprinted on us for life. But the reality of missing out on so many shared earthly experiences with her is cutting. Which leads me to the other Bible-y thing I’m clinging to: Heaven. I truly believe that right now our daughter is being held by her two namesakes- Great-Grandma Margaret and my sister, her Aunt Mary. She is being spoiled by her Great-Granddads Jake, Paul, Phil and Clyde, squeezed by her Great-Grandma Louise, teased by her Uncles Garnet and Ray, and snuggling up next to her buddy Gabe. I have no doubt that, as our mid-wife said after Margot was delivered, “This baby is LOVED.” And our darling girl, while Daddy and Elijah and I are beyond sad you aren’t here with us, and we’re beyond jealous of those heavenly folks getting to enjoy you in person, we know we will see your face once more. And, yet again, you will be worth the wait.
The song that closed Margot's service
No words except your precious family is in my prayers...May He wrap His arms around you.
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