‘To lose a baby’ is such a misnomer because they are not misplaced, or left behind. Instead, they have been torn from their mother, taken from their family, gone without memories having been made to sustain a broken heart. Miscarriage is brutal, it is ugly and unforgiving. It rips holes in hearts and buries hurt deep in souls. The words below from our sister, Deb Cruz, are her reflection on what might have been, and we feel her because we too have been there.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t mean to. I would never.
It’s the day I stop.
But this year, I was so busy prepping for Thanksgiving and Special Person’s day for my second grader. I was caught up in minutia. I was planning the rest of my life. I was living and I totally forgot what today could have been. What it should have been. My baby’s 2nd birthday. I was supposed to be wrangling a toddler. Entering the terrible twos. Instead, my lap is empty. My heart has a hole. Worst of all, I forgot to be sad about it. I forgot to remember that it was the anniversary of what could have been.
I feel guilty.
I feel ashamed.
I feel like I should be flogged. There is no guilt quite so terrible as that of a mother to a child who almost was. To a child who you loved with all your soul but lost before you got to tell them so. A mother who forgot to remember.