Oh it’s been a while since I’ve been online! Pregnancy is exhausting in its final month (I’m due in two weeks ~ ), but nothing makes you appreciate it more (at least for me), then remembering my Angel Baby.
I lost my baby at nine (or eleven weeks - depending on which ultrasound you fallow), but our baby never grew past six weeks, and four days. With all the odds my family has climbed past in my lifetime alone, I really remained optimistic that this was it: that getting to have a baby as soon as we began trying for one, was the “reward” if you will, for all the things that had happened before. But the odds haven’t always been on our side, and sadly my first pregnancy ended in a missed miscarriage that resulted in a midnight run to the ER, an emergency D&C, and a stay at the hospital as my body recovered (which reminds me, I still need to write that second part out of our Angel Baby story).
Now, as I rub my big
But I take comfort in knowing that I will get to know the soul that brought me so much joy for weeks, one day, in Heaven - and then watch (much later hopefully), my son getting to meet his sibling, and finally play with him then.
For all the parents who lost their children, whether in utero or shortly thereafter, I lift a prayer for all of us, that we may heal and find comfort as we grieve, and move forward.
He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark 5:34 (NIV)