I was talking to my brother-in-law and sister-in-law the other night. She has experienced over half a dozen miscarriages. In talking about their experiences, she mentioned that she feels like the woman connects with these children because she had them physically with her; therefore, they will always be with her.
For men, it's different. They need a way to deal with their loss - because it most definitely is their loss, too. My brother-in-law shared that he named each little baby, and says their names daily in prayer.
This is interesting to me because I never thought of doing something like that. To me, names are for babies who were born, no matter how early, whether alive or still.
I know a miscarriage is still a baby - I have seen the heartbeat at just 5 weeks gestation - but I never thought about naming one.
My first miscarriage occurred at six weeks along in my first pregnancy; and this is the one that still affects me the most. I think about that baby all the time. I just know in my heart that was my daughter, and I wonder all the time how different my life would be if I had had her.
We never got to use our girl name; so I've decided that from now on, I will think of that baby as my girl. And I'm saying her name here: Natalie Kathleen.
I'll always wonder about her. I'll wonder if she would have had beautiful, long, brown, thick hair like I had as a child. Or would she follow suit with her brothers and be a blondie? Would she have my deep blue eyes or Hubby's bluish-green ones? Would she want to dance or play soccer? Or be a kick-ass girl and do both? Would she have my love of words and be an amazing big sis to the brood of brothers that history tells me would have surely come after her?
I'll never know; but I'll always wonder.
Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. We are saying their names and telling their stories and giving ourselves permission to wonder and dream and grieve together.
Join me over at Her View From Home where I'm sharing what I wonder about the ones I have lost. Click here to read.
And if your heart is in it, here are a dozen other stories of loss and remembrance and hope. Know that you are not alone.