To the mom who lost her child
August 23, 2017
When I walked in there this morning I was happy and cheerful. Signed the register, and went on my usual stroll around. And then I found you. At the bed by the window. Sitting quietly. Purple blanked wrapped around you. I could see that you have been crying.
You have lost your baby. You told me with tears in your eyes. It happened just before we arrived. At 7 months you lost a child. You lost part of you.
There are a few things I want you to know and sitting here now I can’t remember if I told you that.
I want you to know I feel your pain. I wanted to stay with you longer to hug you. I wanted to cry with you. You are loved. You have people. You have friends and family. I spoke to your mom and sister outside. You are not alone.
I want you to know that I want you to talk about it, when you want to talk about.
Talking can be very therapeutic. It will help you a lot to process what happened today.
I want you to know that I listened to every detail you told me. You started to let it out. And let out the darkness. Let it all out. That is how you heal. Release all the emotions that you are feeling.
I want to tell you that you will survive, that one day you will have a reason to smile again. That you will have something to celebrate. I know there are going to be dark days, angry days and silent days. And in those times find your strength in God.
I want to tell everyone with whom you will come into contact to know why they shouldn’t interrogate you about the size of your family and when your daughter will have a sibling. I know you will come up with a witty one-liner (like you did today about my pink outfit!) that will leave them stunned and feeling awkward, but I know you will be saddened to have to admit why there’s a void in your arms. I know you will be able to cover your sadness with a smile for a second, yet you may walk away with tears streaming down your face. The questions will eventually end. Keep your head up.
I want you to grieve fully and deeply. I want you to find a special person you can connect with and heal. I want you to find peace. And I want you to feel the sun in your soul again.
I want you to know that your loss has affected me in so many ways, good and bad. I hugged my girls a little tighter tonight. I realized again just how blessed I am. But tonight I am sitting here wondering how you are. If you got home okay and if you managed to get your baby transported to the mortuary.
When I left you were sleeping. Curled up in a tiny ball on the bed, baby bag open with the pretty blue babygrow peeking out. I spoke to your family. And I realized you will be okay. You got them. They are there for you. And that is all that matters right now. My mind was filled with you all day.
Your strength has inspired me.
Life is hard. We are all fighting our own battles. You have shown me how to smile even during such a heartbreaking time. After losing a part of you, I hope that you are able to smile and love.
I hope that you are able to see the good in life.
I hope you can enjoy the silent moments.
I hope that you will be able to laugh again one day, with your daughter and your family.
I hope that your smile returns with meaning.
I hope you can have always have faith that everything happens for a reason, like you told me today.
I hope you know I care for you.
My dear N, my heart aches for you. Not just for today but for everyday for the rest of your life. You have endured a pain that is indescribable. You’ve shed tears that I wish no one would ever have to shed. You’ve said goodbye to a child, your child.
But you are beautiful and so strong.
Please always remember that.
With all my love,