Monday, October 3, 2016

Ella Marie Schofield 1837-1870 33 years 5 months 3 days


Constant of Faith, Generous by Heart

            I called upon the only God I knew in those last moments. I prayed. I cried. I begged. I did everything in my power to bring life into the world. I wasn’t praying for myself. I was praying for her. After so many losses she was all I could ever hope for. I just wish I could have been there beyond the first moments of her life. The glimpse I had of her before I faded away wasn’t enough to satisfy my desire to hold her.

            All of those years I spent in service to God and others, those were cold replacement for my empty arms. I ached to hold my own child every time I brought food to a new mother, or hemmed a baptismal gown, or counseled a new father whose hands trembled the first time he held his child. I would hide my tears behind a forced smile and wait until I returned home to bury my face in my pillow to stifle the screams throbbing in my heart.

            Oh, my husband, I know how you loved me. You never blamed me for the times I carried a fragile life within my body only to be cast out by some misbegotten moment. Just like every man, you never understood why I would sob so bitterly for the barely formed life my body rejected, sometimes even before I was aware it was there. So, I would hide my tears behind a false mask of love and servitude. Your meals were always on time and your clothes were always well cared for, pressed and cleaned. You never had a need to complain about my ability to keep house or tend to the budget. I gave my whole self to you and to my service to others. And yet nothing I did could soothe the aching in my heart.

            You were my last hope. My last earthly desire, my child. From the moment you took root I knew you would be my last. I prayed for you. I begged for every moment of your life. I gave my whole self to you, even after the doctors said bringing you into this world would end my own life. I know your father resented you. After all, giving you life took my own. My greatest sorrow in life was knowing I was leaving you to be suckled at the breast of another woman. No other woman could love you as I loved you.

            Every moment I had with you gave me hope and strength. From the first moment I felt the butterfly wings of you flutter in my belly to the last moments of pain I endured as I ripped my body apart to allow you to breathe, I loved you. My last moments were spent studying your face, taking in every inch of your body so I could remember you and imagine you growing into the young woman I prayed you would become.

            I miss you, my child. I know this cold monument is a poor replacement for a mother’s arms. The woman I choose to be your nursemaid was kind and loving. I knew she would care for you, even if your father could not. You replaced the child she lost and even though her status would never equal my husband’s I know she gave him comfort in his bed, if not in his heart. I could never resent her. I had you.

            You were loved, oh child of mine. I know you were. I do not mind finding rest here. My soul has found solace in the service of my God and in the knowledge I have given you the world. I want joy for you and peace and love. All the things a mother could give a child. I will rest knowing you have life and the opportunity to find all these things. Be at peace my child. I am.

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