Remembering

pregnancy-loss-ribbon

Lately I have been thinking of the babies I lost due to miscarriage. These two little babies have been on my mind constantly for the past few days and I suppose that has pushed me to want to say a few things. I have three living children ages 6, 4, and 2. They are amazing kids, they push my buttons, but also push me to be the best person I can be. I have known many people who believe that because I have these 3 beautiful children my miscarriages shouldn’t really affect me. How I wish this was true.

Because I have these three awesome children I can’t help but think what those little angel babies would be like today. Would they be sassy? Mellow? Make me laugh? I wish I could know what their snuggles would feel like and what their first words would be. I will never hear their first cry, or be responsible for their first smile. I will never have to try to hide my tears on their first day of kindergarten or argue with them about cleaning their rooms.

I look at my children and while I hurt for the angel babies I will never know, I feel blessed to have the life I do. There are many women who never see their dream of a baby come to fruition and my heart aches for them. I wish with everything I have that they will know what it is like to love a child and have that child love them back.

I suppose the purpose of speaking out about this is to let people know that every woman who goes through a miscarriage carries those wounds on her heart forever. Carrying a baby in your womb and never meeting them takes a toll on anyone who has experienced it. So…be kind, be empathetic, and never devalue a person’s life experiences.

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4 comments

  1. A sweet friend of mine sent me this poem after I lost my little darling this year. Thank you for thinking of me and sharing this. I do love you ever so much!

    My mom is a survivor or so I’ve heard it said. But I hear her crying at night when all others are in bed.
    I watch her lie awake at night and go and hold her hand. She doesn’t know I am with her To help her understand.
    But like the sands on the beach that never wash away. I watch over my surviving mom who thinks of me each day.
    She wears a smile for others a smile of disguise. But through Heaven’s door I see tears flowing from her eyes.
    My Mom tries to cope with death to keep my memory alive. But anyone who knows her knows it is her way to survive.
    As I watch over my surviving mom Through Heaven’s open door. I try to tell her that angels protect me forevermore.
    I know that doesn’t help her or ease the burden she bears. So, if you get a chance, go visit her. And show her that you care.
    For no matter what she says no matter what she feels. My surviving Mom has a broken heart that time won’t ever heal.

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