I thought a lot about what to say in this post.
To tell the truth, I’ve said nearly every thing before. And since this day falls just a month after the anniversary of Job’s birth, and just two months after our most recent miscarriage, I’ve posted about this recently.
So what do I want to say today, on this day that serves to remind us of pregnancy and infant loss?
Well first off, I want to rejoice on just how open people are now about baby loss.
I’m thankful that many of my friends have opened up in their own losses.
I’m thankful for the older ladies that have shared stories of their lost babies with me, many of them who had rarely talked about their babies with anyone.
I’m thankful that more and more it’s becoming common to share your pregnancy early (at least with close friends and family), so that you have support, whether it’s in a joyful birth or a heartbreaking loss.
This last miscarriage, it was different for me. Like I said, it was early, earlier than the rest, we only had a handful of days to begin to dream of this new life. We didn’t tell anyone (except the two ladies who happened to be with me the day I took the test, and couldn’t help but notice my shock!).
To be honest, I cried a few tears and then tucked the thoughts and pain away. This child never had a heartbeat. Development stopped before that could happen. I told myself it was different. I told myself I was fine. I’d done this before.
Just a few days later, I found myself sharing with another woman about the miscarriage. And her reaction stopped me in my tracks.
She was heartbroken for me. She grieved for the life and hope I had lost. She teared up for me. Her words, “If we truly believe life begins at conception, then you should take the time to grieve for the life you lost.”
Ugh. She’s right.
Just when did baby loss become so normal to me?
It’s common, yes. But the loss of life is never to be glossed over.
Jace and I have each lost a grandparent this year, and the grief process over each of them has been long and hard.
Obviously I grieved Job and Monkey.
I was telling myself that since we only had a few days to get attached to this one, that it hurt less.
But I was fooling myself. I’ve said it before, and I do believe it, every loss, no matter how small, how early, or how brief, is devastating.
Thanks to my friend’s words, I finally made myself face the real feelings behind our most recent loss. I let myself feel the pain, and along with it came the echos of pain from before. The emptiness inside. The nights of crying in the dark at the sheer stillness inside me.
That, that is what I was avoiding, the inevitable fall off the cliff into the memories of pain. But our child deserved it. I needed it to heal.
So today, I just want to encourage you to not lessen any loss. To realize that every loss, no matter how early or for what reason, is exactly that, the loss of a life. Of hopes and dreams and knowledge.
I’m sorry that I didn’t let myself feel your loss. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to meet you. I will always wonder who you were and what you might have been. But I am thankful that your brother and Monkey were there to greet you. I am thankful that you never knew the pain of this world. Someday, I can not wait to hold you! Until then, we will love you forever,