Sometimes I wonder if the time warp that began nearly a year and a half ago will ever stop… Or at least slow down so I have a chance to try to catch up. The moment we heard those words, our clocks stopped, all while the world kept ticking by. Days, weeks, months… Then suddenly a year… And now it’s been another half a year with questions unanswered, time flying past as I remember and the world surrounding me forgets. I still think of my little ones each day. I think of who they would have been, what they would like to do if only they were here and not there. I think of the little eyes I can’t look into, the moments of wonder and excitement that are missed. I miss them. They are my children, and I think of the in the same way as I think of my earthly little ones that I do get to watch and learn from each day. I remember. But nobody else does. Not anymore.
October was declared Pregnancy & Infant loss awareness month by bereaved father and President, Ronald Regan back in 1988.
Most people don’t know that. I know I didn’t in the “before”. But now, oh how things have changed. This month being recognized as such- I now see as a chance to use my voice of experiencing what 1 in 160 women experience… And share my babies’ stories. Certainly, this month doesn’t come without its fair share of fear. It’s hard to be that 1 in 160. It’s hard to live it and it’s hard to speak of it.
But it’s so incredibly important. Important for my healing, for his story. After all, his story will always be a part of my history.
Important for awareness and understanding in an oftentimes very dense society that lives in a world where abortion is normal and societally “okay” but the mothers who lose their babies unexpectedly, without wanting to lose them, who have babies diagnosed with life limiting conditions and choose to give them a shot at life, to enjoy their lives for however long or short they are, instead of choosing the reccomended “selective reduction” are these “weird” moms. Yet these women,in truth, are so incredibly strong. They are these kind warriors that “normal” people stray away from and give those odd-looking glances to from the sidelines. Our culture is so backwards. And they always think it will “never happen to me”. I’m sure I am not alone in once being one standing on the sidelines, naively thinking the same thing. How I regret ever being one who stood there, judging instead of loving . But how are they to learn how to love us, and be there for us if we don’t speak up and stand up where our children cannot stand? Someone said not long ago that they didn’t understand why faith-based Christians sometimes die early when the Bible has specific verses talking about a long earthly life. And my thought, as a mother of children who should have outlived me… Was that their physical lives may end abruptly and prematurely… Their earthly life isn’t over. They live on, because of us, because of love. Life doesn’t have to end at the grave. It may, but it doesn’t have to. And what better person to keep their lives going that the ones that created them, loved them and carried them for their whole lives. Their mamas and daddies.
Time moves on. Months pass, anniversaries come and go and the clock continues to “tick tock” by our broken and bleeding selves on the sidelines of life. But if you can stand, when you can stand again , grab hold of the weeping mother beside you and place your broken hand in hers. You won’t feel prepared, or capable, or sure that you’ll help at all. But you will, because yours is a hand of hope amidst brokenness. Lift her up with the strength you have, because by walking together on this journey you have so much more strength to push through the inevitable “bad days” you will each encounter. You have someone to keep you going when all you can do on your own is give up. You have someone who is rooting for you and standing beside you and, in the moments where you feel so alone, if you can find the strength to look beside you… There she will be, your anchor of Hope, telling you “just try one more time”.
So let the clock tick on by. Time will pass and maybe one day you’ll catch up… But if you don’t, you won’t be alone. Just look up- look around, and you will see that we, bereaved mothers and daddies of heaven born babies, will all be beside you ignoring the “tick tock” of the clock of life while carrying each other with broken arms and hearts of hope.