Infant Loss Month

Earlier this month, a friend posted this picture on her Facebook page.  She has been very open about her miscarriages which has encouraged other women who are grieving the same loss.  In the comment section of the post, several women commented with the number of miscarriages they have grieved.  I was touched by the number of women who have suffered such a loss and the women who have suffered multiple losses.

I was going to leave my own comment, but found that I just couldn’t do it.

Why?

My loss doesn’t count.

When we found out I was pregnant for the first time, we were overjoyed.  We had been praying and waiting for several years for a baby.  When I went in for the first ultrasound and saw that there were two, I was nervous, but thrilled!  We started trying to wrap our minds around the idea of having two infants.   In our excitement, we happily told family and friends.

Unfortunately, when I went in for an ultrasound around the 10th week, I was told there was a problem.  One baby was doing well, the other one had slowed down growing.  It still had a heart beat, but it was slower than the previous time.  I was heart broken, but hoped that somehow, the baby would be okay.

They sent me to a specialist to run a few more tests, but we were told the baby would probably die.  I went in for several more ultrasounds to watch the baby’s progress.  It became clear, though, that the baby would not make it.  I was devastated.

I remember crying most of the way home from my last appointment.  As I lay in bed crying, I prayed that God would welcome our baby into heaven with open arms.  Just typing those words cause the tears to flow all over again.

My heart was broken.

I had several people who were so wonderfully supportive and caring.  They shared their own losses and said loving and encouraging words.  I am so thankful for them.  But then there were the others.

In order to make the loss more palatable, I was told, this happens a lot with multiple pregnancies so I shouldn’t have counted on having both babies anyway.  I should just count my blessings because the other baby was healthy and other women don’t get the ‘spare’ that I did.   I even had one person ask, ‘Aren’t you glad?  Twins would be so hard.”

My heart was grieving, yet so much of what I heard, told me that I didn’t have the right to be sad.   It could be so much worse.

My loss didn’t count.

So for years, I’ve shared that my daughter’s twin died, but I hesitate to be counted among the women who have suffered a miscarriage.  (I know that sounds contradictory, but there it is.)  In my head I hear, ‘your’s doesn’t count’.  You still had a baby.  You should have known one would die.  You couldn’t have handled twins anyway.  You weren’t far enough along for it to count.

But my loss does count.

There was a baby.  And it died.

I saw it’s head, arms, legs, and heart beat. I looked forward to finding out if it was a boy or girl.  I wanted to see what color of hair he/she would have.  What would his/her personality be like?  Would he/she look more like me or my husband?  Those questions go unanswered for now; I have to wait until we meet in heaven.

My baby’s life mattered.

His/her life mattered to me and my husband.  We prayed for this baby.  We loved this baby.  And he/she mattered to God.  He fearfully and wonderfully formed my baby and put him/her in my womb.  And His works are wonderful.

My loss does count.

Despite what I may have been told and the lies I chose to believe, my loss, my grief, does count.  It’s real.  It’s valid.  It’s worth honoring.

So today I stand to be counted among the women who have suffered such losses.  I stand with them to honor the lives of our babies and to validate the grief we have experienced.  Our babies mattered.  Our losses count.  Our grief is real and valid.  And we remember them always.