In "recovery"- whatever that means

After another failed attempt to induce, the doctor did a c-section on Mbamie and she is now resting and trying to recover on the many levels where she is wounded. The family was very distraught, not only by the death, but also by the knowledge that this was their third baby (out of four) to suffer strangulation from the cord. The second baby was revived with prayers and is now 7 years old. The third child (the second to live) didn't have complications which the sister--in-law attributes to having fasted and prayed all throughout the pregnancy. So many unanswered questions and heartache. Pray for their peace, strength and health- physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.

The nurses brought the baby to the family and I was privileged to be there while some women took pictures for them and as we gazed at the infant's beauty. I wrote this out of the pain I felt for my friend and her loss.

Cries-a-lot
Gazes into her pot of sorrow
Tears cascading down her face
Causing her filled cauldron to overflow
Threatening to drown her

Haunting images flitter across the salty surface
Her small lifeless baby
Too small, too still
The immovable death sentence
Crushing her hopes, dreams and joy
In a single blow

Her arms are empty
Her home is quiet in the awkward stillness of mourning
Her mind is in shock and turmoil
Her heart twisted mercilessly
By her great love that spills out as endless tears

Her cries turn heavenward
Where each mutter, each groan, each tear, each cry
Usher in the baby's precious soul to her heavenly home
She is carried in by this love bleeding forth from hearts on earth
The Lover carefully and tenderly receives and embraces
The passion of His heart, the beautiful soul come so quick
Along with the intense heartache
He draws them to Himself and says "little one, you are dearly loved"

The Lover and infant daughter
Carefully wrap each note of mourning sent heavenward
They kiss them until they melt into a fine powder
They smell in their fragrance, marvel at the great love
And tremble under the depth of sadness
They stir in their own offerings of love:
Heavens laughter, eternity's hope, perfect love from a perfect realm
And blow back their remixed potion as responses to the cries of earth

Cries-a-lot can barely see past the chasm of darkness
The despair and heart wrenching pain
But sometimes a glimmer of hope assails her heart
She imagines a presence, a child's voice that sings
"I'm not so far, Cries-a-lot, just beyond the veil
Receive our love back to you
And know that one day all will be well"

The Lover wipes Cries-a-lot's tears
Carefully treasuring the pure love and heartache
Just as she carefully carries the baby's fragile shell
The remains
Buried in earth's ground
Along with a sprinkling of heaven's rain

He stirs her pot of sorrow with heaven's tears
Of compassion, hope and love
So that sometimes she is overcome with peace
And the incomprehensible knowledge
Under such depth of pain
That she is dearly loved
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Although this is what I felt in my heart, Mbamie is not in tears outwardly and that frightens me some, because I know her as an overly dramatic woman, yet since she heard of the death, she has become like a wall. I know everyone deals with sorrow differently, so I want to allow her the space to grieve as she will and have time for her grieving, but I also pray that she will not lose her will to connect or be among the living with this traumatic blow to her heart. While she seems to have shut down, her husband, who seemed aloof during the pregnancy, has been the one who cried out, looked at the baby, held her, and tried to reach his wife with their common love for the baby. They have actually been through this situation before, but I think what is different is that Mbamie may have thought that the chapter of horror on their lives had ended and they had turned a new page, yet here, the past haunts them again in this new life.

Lover- please ease their pain.