Thinking Things Through

Tonight makes two weeks since I lost my baby.   I’m slowing getting to the point where it’s not the first thing I think about every minute of the day.   But I am still crying at odd moments, still crying as I fall asleep, and my heart still aches when I wake up.   Watching Kenny today as he trundled race cars across the living room floor, it hit me once again that not only have Casey and I lost another child, but that Kenny lost a sibling.   I see the way his face lights up at the park when he sees other little guys, and I want so desperately for him to grow up with a whole gaggle of little brothers (or sisters).

Casey was taking to a friend on the phone today who gave him a new perspective on what has happened to us.   This man told Casey that his wife had masicarried in between the births of their second and third child.   Apparently they had always planned to have three children, and so after the birth of their third child, a girl, they realized that she would never have been born if the miscarriage hadn’t  have happened.   He said that they remember that all the time; that without losing a baby, they never would have had her.

It’s an interesting way of looking at things.   I can definitely understand his thinking, and appreciate it as well.   It’s still hard, though, to not know if I will have any other children yet.   Maybe someday down the road, I’ll be able to look back and say something along those lines, but right now, all I can see is that I lost out on a tiny little life waiting to be born.   All I can do is mourn the baby I’ll never get to meet until I get to heaven.

It’s interesting, too, what people say when you tell them that you’ve had  a miscarriage.   Most say what I would have most likely said before this happened: “Oh!   I’m so sorry!   …. Well, you can always have another one!”   I want to stare them down and say, “I had a life inside me and it died.   Maybe someday I will have another one, but I wanted That One!”   Don’t tell me “it was probably for the best” or “God must have needed that little one in Heaven” or “at least it happened early.”   I know that most are well-meaning, but they sting like a thousand bees.

I’ll tell you what is the right thing to say.   My  brother-in-law’s wife  said, “I’m so sorry about what happened.   I don’t want to bring it up and make you sad, but I want you to know that we’re thinking of you.”   And my other brother-in-law’s new bride just put her arms around me and said, “I am praying for you.   Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”    

I am so grateful for what I have: for Casey, for Kenny and for our families.   If that’s all I ever have, it is already more than enough.   We’re blessed beyond belief, and I don’t take any of that for granted.   Still, I miss my baby, and I think I probably always will.