I’ve worn a number of ribbons, in various colors, to honor the struggles of others, their losses, their lives, their battles. But today is a ribbon day that remembers what I’ve lost, what my husband has lost, and what our sweet girls have lost. Today, on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, the loss of our sweet baby is publicly acknowledged, as well as those of so many others.
But our hurt is not just confined to this day, and our stories matter every day. Each day that a woman shares her story of heartbreak, another woman finds someone to connect with and hold her up when she can’t fight this anymore. Another dad, feeling confused, hurt, and helpless, finds other men who have braved similar losses and found ways to love and nurture their wives through the most challenging days of their marriages. Each time that someone shares their story of pregnancy or infant loss, another finds the courage to reach out for help and comfort, too.
Today is a day where we publicly grieve the baby we will never hold, because we have earned that grief, a thousand times over. I believe that parents who have lost children know just how dark sadness can be., but today, we are also choosing to see hope. Hope that our story does not end like this. That there is a purpose for our pain and that God’s plan is so much bigger than ours. Hope that what science and doctors have made possible will be a viable solution to our longing. Hope that our story can reach others, and that we can be their community in their time of unending and irreparable loss.
Today, we are going to pray for the baby we lost, our little dandelion baby, that someday we will hold them in our arms; that we will be reunited in a place where our earthly bodies can no longer keep us apart. But we will also pray for the baby in our dreams, the one we have yet to fully create, but will soon. And we will pray for each and every person who will go to sleep tonight, longing for a healthy pregnancy, or for one more day with the baby who left this world too soon. We will pray for hope and comfort for you, as you learn to walk this confusing and hurtful, but also joyful, life.