To my little niece or nephew we will never get to meet,

We’ll never buy you clothes or shoes for tiny feet.

Your cousin shares your birthday, but it isn’t quite the same.

We celebrate him every year, but we don’t know your name.

Always in our memory, never to be replaced,

We love you little baby that we cannot embrace.

Though we may never hold you or look into your face,

We trust that you’re in heaven by God’s amazing grace.

I wrote the above poem while reflecting on my son’s first birthday.  We spoke with my sister, who lives in a different state, not long after he was born.  In that discussion we found out that our son’s birthday happened to be the same day that she lost her third child.  She told us that it gave her something positive to think about on that day.  On my son’s first birthday, I couldn’t help but think of that niece or nephew that shares the day with my son, and I will always think of that.  I can still remember talking to my mom who had the difficult task of telling me that my sister had lost her baby.  I was left mourning for this niece or nephew and not sure what to do or how to comfort my sister.  What do you say?  Anything I could think of only seemed like a trite response to a deep pain.  I still don’t know the best way to comfort someone going through the loss of a child, but I feel the need to acknowledge their children.  I want moms to know that all of their children “count”.  

Our society does not value unborn life.  That is evident not only from the laws of our country, but also from the way we respond to loss.  The first time I found out I was pregnant I was told by many well meaning friends not to announce anything until after the first trimester, “In case you lose it.”  They wanted to save me from the hurt of announcing a baby and then not having a baby for people to hold nine months later.  However, this didn’t seem right.  I wanted people to rejoice with me right away.  I also wanted people who would mourn with me if I was to lose my baby.  Though I have not personally experienced this loss, it is much more common than people like to talk about.  There are many women aching to have a baby, and they conceive only to have to say goodbye before they ever get to hold their baby.  Some women carry a baby knowing that their time will be brief, and others are surprised by grief much earlier than they ever expected.  They are all mothers, whether or not they have a child with them now.

To look at a friend of mine and her family, you would think that all is well.  They appear to have a loving home with three children and the “American Dream”.  What are you missing when you look at this idealistic family?  You are missing six children.  You are missing her babies that she was only able to carry briefly.  You are missing her struggle to understand why her body wasn’t sustaining these pregnancies when all the tests came back “normal.”  You are missing the fear and anxiety with every positive pregnancy test, just waiting for the day when you have to say goodbye to another baby, worrying that it will come and praying that it won’t.  You are missing the hurt every time someone asks her how many children she has.  She has nine children, but most of the time people only want to hear about the children that are living.  They will always be her children no matter how much time she was given with them.   

Not everyone loses a baby in the first few months of pregnancy.  Sometimes a woman carries her baby for nine months, only to have to say goodbye at birth.  There is a heart ache, an emptiness, an indefinable grief to have entered a hospital in an expectant hope only to go home without your baby, knowing they will never be with you again.  One friend I know described her daughter’s birth as her, “leaving my body and entering into the presence of her Savior.”  While it is heartbreaking to read, there is a beauty in it as well.  Can you imagine what it would be like to spend 32 weeks so close to your mother’s heart that you could hear its every beat, and then to be ushered from that safe and loving home directly into the presence of God himself!  It sounds pretty amazing from that point of view.  Too often, I hear people expressing their comfort in knowing that their baby is an angel.  This is not what the Bible tells us.  The Bible tells us that people are uniquely created in the image of God.  Those in heaven, including children, are saved by God’s grace alone, something not granted to the angels, they have been adopted as sons, and are joint heirs with Jesus Christ!  

I wish I could say that miscarrage and infant loss was something rare.  When I started this series on mothers I wanted to get multiple perspectives.  I had the unfortunate realization that I had just as many friends that I could contact about loss as I could about any other topic.  Unfortunately, probably everyone reading this knows someone who has lost a child.  You may not know they have; they probably don’t go around announcing it, but you probably know at least one.  Why does misscarrage happen?  Why are babies born sleeping?  Why are children taken from us before they’ve had time to grow up?  I don’t know.  What do I know?  God is in control. (Job 9-12)  He is close to the brokenhearted. (Psalm 34 and 147)  God entrusts our children to us for however long he decides.  We must make the most of the time he gives us.  The church is called to support these moms in whatever way we can.  We should “rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15)  

*I am thankful for the moms who took the time to share their stories with me and answer questions about their losses.*