Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Loss, Loss, Loss

Sometimes it happens. I'm going through life, fine as anything, thinking about Sarah here and there, but with the grief of her loss feeling...less fresh. The wound is sort of, for lack of a better description, scabbed over. And then I hear a story, talk to a mom, or several, and it seems that everywhere I look I see someone still in the throes of their grief, and it brings mine back to the surface.

Which isn't to say that it's all about me. It's just that my own feelings are still raw under that scab. And when I hear someone else talk about their experiences, sometimes the scab just gets ripped right off and I commiserate and sympathize in a very real, and painful, way.

I would never again wish to go through the pain of losing Sarah. At the same time, I would do it again if it meant sparing other women the grief of their own loss. It feels, unfair, that they should have to suffer too. Of course, I suppose that's very arrogant of me to think that my pain should have been deep enough to have been enough for everyone. After all, there's only one person whose pain was enough for the whole world, and it definitely was not me. But I do think it speaks to how much grief one can feel for a baby they knew for so short a time.

We moms who lose infants, newborns, or babies still in the womb, we don't just grieve for the actual baby who was with us and is now gone. We grieve for every hope and dream we had, for every smile we'll never see, and for every laugh and word we'll never hear. We grieve for what was and what could have been.

I won't lie. I'm sad today. Today it hurts. Today I want Sarah in my arms and dancing around the living room driving me crazy like a 3 year old girl should. Of course, my Sarah would never have done those things. Her brain would never have let her do them.

Oddly, that's where my hope is. Because I believe that in heaven, she is not limited. Her brain is perfect. She can dance, she can run, and she can sing praises to the King who made her and saw fit to take her home. And I have some measure of peace and hope in the knowledge that we will be together again one day.

Thankfully our God does not leave us bereft and alone. He is there for us. He has a plan, even if we can't see it, even if we don't know what it is. So, even though I'm sad today, I'm grateful too.

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.
For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.
Lamentations 3:32-33


  1. Anne, I found you off of MckMama's blog and I want you to know that I am praying for you. I am praying that God will give you comfort in this time!

  2. Thank you so much, Brittany. That means so much to me.

  3. While I haven't had a child die, I did give an 18 month old up for adoption. We've both had the experience of losing the opportunity to mother a child in the normal way, for the usual amount of time. I definitely know the grief of what could have been. I know the grief of knowing that circumstances made it so those dreams wouldn't have happened no matter what. People think I shouldn't have grief because I chose to give her away, but I didn't choose to give her away for me, I chose for her to have a better life that I was painfully aware was not something I could give. She's going to be 15 on May 19th and I still love her and miss her and wish I could have been her mother. I'm so sorry for your grief Anne. I laid on a couch feeling sad for about 4 years after the adoption. Even though your grief may be less "fresh", there will always be things that will trigger the feelings like they happened just a moment ago. Those painful memories will always be with you but pain springs from love. When you feel that pain, just remember the love that causes it. The Lord is merciful and knows each of our individual pain. Those things help me, so I'll leave those thoughts here for you

  4. How beautiful, Anne.

    Thanks for your honesty and transparency.

    I read Sarah's story. What a precious little creation of God.

    I pray that you will find comfort during this time that your are having grief.

  5. Such beautiful words in honor of your little Saint. God bless your family.

  6. is there a memorial somewhere for your first baby? You never mention that one.

  7. I have mentioned my first baby on occasion. Though I don't mourn that baby in the same way I mourn Sarah. Which isn't to say that the loss wasn't a big deal. It was. I fell into a depression that started me on the path to becoming both a Christian and pro-life. But I don't know if that baby was a boy or a girl. Sarah I knew. Sarah I felt move. Sarah I held in my hands. If someone had a miscarriage and a stillbirth, I think it would be understandable if they mourned the stillbirth differently than the miscarriage, though they would both have been painful losses. That I'm responsible for the death of my first child (something I admit, and thankfully, have been forgiven for) doesn't make it less painful or mean that I didn't mourn.

    There is no memorial for my first baby. I'm not entirely sure how I would go about doing that. Having an abortion at 17 was a traumatic experience, as it is for many women, and I think of that baby often. Quite often in fact. I look forward to seeing him or her in heaven as well.

    Abortion is something that has not only taken the lives of millions of baby, it has left many women broken and in pain in it's wake. I hope any woman who's had an abortion knows that there is forgiveness and healing through Christ.


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