Special Update on 10/15/14: There’s a virtual memorial service going on here at Kimzkitchen beginning at 7 PM (EST) See the info at the end of this post, or click here to get all the details. It’s a special day. Because the babies are all special.
We had a service for Kyle. A memorial service a few weeks after his birth into Heaven to celebrate his 220 days with us. After that service, the nearly 250 people in attendance formed a sort of impromptu receiving line. I had spent the last hour or so thinking about my little guy dancing on Heaven’s streets. I was on a supernatural high from everyone’s prayers for me. But the thought of greeting every one of those people became overwhelming to me. My girls were tired. The physical and emotional strain of all the pomp and circumstance was getting to them. We had friends who had traveled far to be with us that day and were looking forward to crashing with them over dinner. The long line of people stretched pretty far.
But you know something? Women began sharing their stories. Men began sharing their stories. A lady from my church in her late sixties said to me, “I lost a baby at birth forty years ago. They took the baby from me in that small hospital room. I never saw him. We never talked about him. Today, I came to grieve with you. But today, I began healing. You’re the first person I’m telling this story to. Thank you for letting me heal.”
The stories continued. And I was humbled to be a part of them. Some babies had names. Some didn’t. Some babies were looked at by their mothers. Some weren’t even (allowed to be) touched. But no matter what parts of our story matched, we had something in common. We were all grieving, and, because we were able to share, we were all healing.
The thing is, death does sting. It hurts. It’s awful. But that sting isn’t going to be forever. One day there will be an amazing victory over sin. One so amazing that death will not sting any more.
I can’t wait for that day.
Tomorrow is day of grief, healing, remembering, and sharing. It will be a day that will sting for many women. Some will talk about it. Some won’t.
Tomorrow is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.
Not a single day goes by that I don’t think about my little Kyle. Or Sam, or Catherine, the other two we lost before Kyle. And there’s not a single mom out there who has lost a baby who doesn’t think of their little ones.
Tomorrow is a day that others are a little more open to hearing about them. Share your stories. Light your candle at 7PM tomorrow night. Even if you’re the only one who knows what it’s for. It’s
ok good to remember. It’s good to grieve. It’s the only way you can heal. It’s good to share.
Thanks to my friend, Tammy, over at Perinatal Comfort Care, I was able to get the support I needed. And not only me – but also my girls. And my husband. We were all taken care of in our own special way. I had help with formulating my care plan, delivering that to the doctors and nurses who would be over my care, and creating keepsakes that I hold on to so dearly.
If you know of someone who is in the middle of a pregnancy with a terminal diagnosis, the best gift you can give them is to introduce them to Perinatal Comfort Care.
And join me tonight night at 7 PM? I have readers all over the world. We can have a candle burning a flame of rememberance for most of the day. And when you light that candle, say a prayer for those mothers who are grieving their losses. Not just tomorrow, but everyday. I’ll be putting together a virtual memorial service for anyone who would like to participate. Send me your photos of candles, babies, moms, ultrasounds. Or just short memories or just names. You can comment here or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org – i’m happy to include them in my post that will go live tonight at 7 PM (EST). If you can’t get it in by then, no worries, I’ll be updating the post throughout the evening. I’ll look forward to hearing from you. ❤