More Than a Domino

 

Your tiny body was about the size of a large domino playing piece: three and one half inches. You could move your hands, legs, and head, and open and close your mouth. Your tiny fingers and toes had soft nails, and a bit of fuzz would likely have formed on your head. You had tiny tooth buds under your gums. But I never got to see what your hands and feet could do; I never got to play with you, help you with your school homework, or just be your bossy, big sister.

This morning, for some reason, I remembered you, the sibling I forgot to mention on National Siblings Day, April 10. I feel emotional even now as I think about the little brother I never got to know. Had you lived and been born full term, you’d have a birthday in July and be sixty-five earth years old. I wonder what your interests and talents would have been. I know you’d be pretty special.

Mom miscarried you between our brothers, Sanford and Marlin. Years ago, our dad shared his feelings with me about how he grieved the loss of you, little one. He related how one night he had a vivid dream he was in heaven, and saw a group of children who played happily some feet away. One beautiful little boy with intensely-blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair, who appeared to be about five years old, turned and looked at Dad and smiled. Dad said he knew instinctively and instantly it was you—his little boy. Tears rolled down Dad's face as he told me of his dream. I just know Daddy loved on you when he got to heaven on April 7, 2003.

I look forward to getting to know you in heaven, my unknown brother. But for now, I want to honor your existence, and acknowledge the pain my parents experienced when they lost you. Even though I’ve never seen you, I love you, and wish you to have a name; so I think I'll call you “Chester Lamar Yoder.”


Mom and I spoke of you amid tears on the phone. She remembers so well the day she lost you, in spite of putting her feet up in bed as the doctor ordered. The doctor didn't make it to the house in time, and Daddy wrapped your 3-month-old body in a cloth and buried you behind the shed. But Jesus had your spirit safely in His hands, and took good care of you. Mom said Daddy cried and cried, and it was hard for him to get over losing you. And now tears are running down my face, too, Chester.

Disregard for unborn human life was unheard of in your day, Chester. Mom and Dad knew instinctively to value your tiny body, and it grieves me no end to see the selfish callousness with which an unborn child is treated these days—like so much bothersome tissue. I’m so glad they didn’t flush you down a toilet or throw you in the garbage. I somehow feel a connection to you, and wonder what you would say to the world if you had a voice.

I think you would say, “Please tell them I am glad God created me, and knit me together in my mother’s womb. He saw me in the inward parts, fearfully and wonderfully made. He had a good plan for my life, but through no fault of her own, Mom couldn’t carry me to term. I’m glad I was wanted and mourned. I’m glad I wasn’t rejected and intentionally killed. No one has that right, because it is God’s life.”

Chester, your body may have only been the size of a domino, but you are not a game. You are a treasure in the hands of God. And I hope your big sister gave you the honor and voice you deserve.

Copyright © 2016 Elaine Beachy