So I’m breaking my silence.
Tomorrow is the five year anniversary of finding out that our sweet fourth baby had gone to heaven. While I don’t feel complete sadness everyday, I do still think about that missing piece of our family all the time.
I struggle introducing my family to people, because we don’t have four kids—we have five.
Not long ago, Lucy told one of our other pastors’ kids about the baby that died in my belly. Ahhhh. Good conversations for six-year-olds.
But I’m thankful when the kids remember. It makes me feel like I’m not the only one. Grief is like that. You get past the initial stages and it seems everyone else has forgotten, but you’re still stuck in the middle of it. I intentionally send sympathy cards super late for that reason—so that the grieving know they’re not forgotten.
But what does grieving a miscarriage five years later look like? Well, the first year I knew would be tough. All the milestone dates we should have celebrated with that baby were tough. Years 2-4, I think my body started the process before my mind really knew what was going on. Each of those years, around this time, I’ve hit what I can only describe as an emotional downward spiral, without even consciously being aware that it was about that time. It’s so strange. Yet, I’m here again. Sad. Full of tears today. Yet, it’s been five years.
The last couple of years, I’ve given myself that day (July 29th) and allowed myself to feel the emotions. It helps. A life lost is a life worth remembering. A part of me wishes I didn’t feel this way each year. The other part of me is glad I can’t forget.
You’re always loved and missed, sweet baby.💚
So why did I write this?
1-For those who are grieving, even years later, to know they’re not alone. We’ve had so many people lose loved ones in the last few months. It’s so hard to not be able to really BE there to comfort people. There are still some lives yet to be celebrated because of gathering restrictions.
2-For those who have never lost like this to know that, yes, it still hurts and that it’s ok for you to recognize that pain in others. At least for me, I don’t mind if you have questions or bring it up. It helps to know that you remember or that my pain can be helpful to someone else who is struggling.
I’ve heard the same is true for others who have lost loved ones. Use their names. Talk about them. Don’t pretend their life never happened.
3-For myself. Writing is therapeutic and I’ve neglected it far too long. I’m hoping to get back to more regular writing here again. There’s something helpful for me, too, when I read what other people are going through. To know they’re not perfect. To know they also struggle. So I hope my vulnerability does the same for others.
If you’re struggling and ever need to talk—I’m always here. Don’t struggle alone!
Much love, friends!💚
Note...this sweet kid wouldn’t be here without our loss. I’m forever grateful God gave us Finn! 🌈
