Entrusting Children To God’s Care

Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. . . . I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. . . . I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”

—1 Samuel 1:15–16

At one point when Mac was in the PICU at ten days old with a high fever, my dad sent me out of the room. He told me to stretch my legs, to get some fresh air and something to eat. He said there was a chapel and suggested I walk down there.

I’d sent a text to my friend Emily, and in her reply, she said that when she’s scared about her baby, her mom reminds her to pray to Mary, the Blessed Mother, the one who understands, certainly, what it’s like to worry about a child. She said she’d pray the Hail Mary for me and for Baby Mac.

Mary, then, was fresh in my mind, and it didn’t seem surprising that there was a tall, slender statue of her in the chapel. I knelt near her, and I prayed for our baby. Dear God, we need your help, I said. Help my baby. Help my baby. Help my baby. No longer a prayer, now more a keening, a low wail. Help my baby. Help my baby. The statue of Mary, pale and silent, reminded me that I was one of a great line of mothers who entrusted their children into God’s care, terrifying as it is.