I traveled out of town last month and the night before I left, Chris helped me update my phone and ipod and clear off all of the photos- all that fun stuff the evening before I was to jet off on an airplane. Then about a week or two ago I was sitting at my desk late at night, like I often do. My headphones were in and I was quietly typing and editing photos. My ipod set off this strange, loud alert. I grabbed it and it said ” congrats! you are 28 weeks pregnant”. I blankly stared at it for a minute, letting it soak in. When we updated my phone, the pregnancy app that I had all filled in from before, the same one that I had deleted after my D&C- redownloaded and was back up and running on that device.
My sweet baby girl who was to be my Christmas baby was there in the dark of the night, staring at me in the face.
My December angel was there like a whisper. In a moment, a raw, hard truth-facing moment. I gripped gratitute- grateful to remember and cherish her in an intimate moment alone in the thick of the night.
This loss I have tucked away more. This time it seemed easier to not face it so much. Maybe if I don’t talk about it, maybe it means I dreamt it, maybe it hadn’t happened. But it did happen. The first time I was so raw and so desperate to share my thoughts and feelings and emotions as I processed them, as I navigated through them step by step. Then this second time in a way it seemed like a more silent grief. Can I even face this?
Yesterday was October 15. In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan declared October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month saying, “When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.”
Pieces of us are forever lost when we lose this way. Yet through time I do believe that God can bring redemption through our stories, He can thread hope and love into our lives and speak wild, amazing beauty through the life of our sweet mist….. a little breath that comes and goes and forever changes us.
I have my rainbow and shes everything. She is beauty, love, hope and redemption. she’s the apple of my eye- she represents being fought for and cherished and loved in big, fierce ways.
For the mamas that have to make the dreaded pharmacy call to tell them to please quit calling to say your prenatal vitamins are still waiting to be picked up. That your baby is gone and you won’t be coming in to get that prescription.
To the mamas who have the silent reminders along with the loud ones, the remaining baby bump, the hospital bracelet, the empty swaddled blankets.
The returned baby gifts and the empty nurseries.
You are the face of loss. you are one in four. But you are more than that, you get to be the picture of love. Love and peace and grace as eyes are upon you when you experience a hurt like no other.
We, together, can walk this road. We can stand next to the women that are raw and broken and alone. And the friends who don’t know how to respond. We can educate people on the hurt and how every loss is different and each time we are going to face it different.
Our angels are waiting for us. Here are prayers to that double rainbow.