|holding my Janie Lou|
Today is Infant Loss Remembrance Day, and it’s been the pits.
I wasn’t planning on writing anything. Then, I woke up to a new blog comment on this post left by a woman who has never met me. (Hi, Katie!) Every sentiment she expressed touched my heart, especially her words, You have helped me feel like I am not alone.
Those of us who have lost babies are part of a really crummy club. We didn’t choose to be members. In fact, we all became members kicking and screaming. We all feel alone. We all feel left behind. But we are in this together. We need to tell our stories and have our stories be heard. We need to be there for one another.
Today I remember my first brush with infant loss. I remember the family beach trip when my sister and brother-in-law told us they were expecting their first baby. I remember the excitement we all felt, and how right everything seemed. Several months later I was in the middle of a study group meeting in college when my phone rang. It was my brother-in-law. I don’t remember exactly what he said, just that the baby inside of my sister no longer had a heartbeat. Clayton would be nine years old this year. Todd and Katie have since lost four more babies.
I remember asking God why He allowed them to experience such great pain. (I still do.) I remember begging Him to spare me and Andy from that pain. We were not spared.
Today I remember Clayton Robert and his four siblings. I remember the babies lost by my friends. I remember my own little ones, who are always on my heart.
So many dead babies. So many hurting families.
I remember that I am not alone, even though there are times I feel so lonely I can’t breathe.
I remember all the stories I haven’t told that need telling.
I will try to get the words out.
Even though the remembering hurts.