I was passing this girl when she stopped me to tell me that she recognized me from my blog. She told me how she's laughed and cried "with me" and how Rachel has touched her life. She mentioned that she really hasn't followed our journey since Rachel was born, which is always sad for me to hear, but that she had read everything else from the beginning.
As we talked about Rachel's birthday, I mentioned that I was really sad that I never heard her voice. I could tell she was puzzled by that statement and she asked "but she was alive, right?" (Which is the exact question that I was trying to avoid in December when I decided to not share these details with people.) I couldn't have taken it then. It's bad enough she had to die, but to have people question me about the legitimacy of her 43 minutes could put Mama bear into attack mode. I've been starting to be a little more open about the issues I had with how the neonatologist handled things and what he did wrong. I truly believe that Rachel would have lived longer had he done one thing differently and I find peace in that ONLY because I know that my loving God knows exactly what I can handle and what I need... and He must have decided that what I got was just that...what I needed. (although the way I yelled at the nurse that next day would have proven that it's taken me MUCH prayer to get to this point)
So anyway, I explained to her what that issue was and how Rachel managed to live for 43 minutes despite Doctor-in-Training's mess up. (because she was a fighter with a strong heart!) And when I did, she said "she might not have made a sound, but her voice roared through this world."
I started crying because it's so true and I hadn't considered the word picture of that yet... but all I could think of was how we refer to God's "still small voice" and how Jesus is referred to as "the Lion and the Lamb". Well, Rachel's name means "innocent lamb" and apparently without making a sound, she "roared".
Throughout my pregnancy and in the weeks following her death, I frequently said that Rachel Alice Aube was more like Jesus than anyone I have ever met... and I get the privilege of calling myself her mother! Her life and death (and my willingness to share it) has led people to repentance and brought new believers into the kingdom of God. The day I held her in my arms, I knew I was holding something very special... regardless of the pain I endured to have those moments, I knew that it was beyond anything I could experience any other way. I was holding a piece of heaven. She was gentle in spirit, danced like an angel, and her still small voice roared like a lion.