To the Lost

To those I have lost,

Growing up, all I ever wanted to be was a mom. I watched the struggles my mom went through and all I wanted was to lift her up and help her and then be the best mom ever. It created within me the longing that I would hold my own little babies one day. What an incredible responsibility!

Loss of life and acceptance of death are tremendously hard things. There is never a moment that goes by when you don’t wonder if you had been given the chance at life if the world would look like a different place. The pain becomes a dull reminder that it isn’t your place to know those things. But grace is the power to know that one day we will meet.

When I found out that I was pregnant with you and I was going to be a mom was one of the most joyous moments of my life. It was what I had dreamed of coming true. I cried, I rejoiced, and I knew that we were going to be best friends and I was going to take care of you. I was ready for you to be in my arms the moment that I knew you were in my womb. But that wasn’t part of God’s plan. 9 weeks into your life, I lost you. The trauma of those moments still has not left my heart. When you sit on a cold table, hurting, scared and you hear the sonographer say, “I don’t see any baby.” The world around your momma shattered. I never got to see your form. I never got to see or hear your little heartbeat. I never got to kiss your forehead and tell you I love you. You were there one moment and gone the next. I was no longer going to be a mother. My body had failed you and there wasn’t a thing I could do but cry. There is a lump in my throat thinking of the room that I had begun filling with your things. I closed the door and it stayed untouched for a year. Miscarriage is so common, that most people shrug the depth of this hurt off. They say it must not have been a real viable embryo. You were my child, and it was real.

Time will decrease the pain of you going back to God, but my fear will always be present.  “Will I ever have children?”

To my first lost little one, you have a beautiful little sister and she is incredible. She gave me hope. Hope that despite my body failing you that God really did have a plan!

To my second lost little one, suffering once again, in this familiar pain, and knowing what it meant was one of the hardest things that I have ever done. I knew before we left for the hospital that you were gone. The people that cared for me while you passed away were amazing. I am grateful for their hearts and their sensitive nature during that time. It was so different from the brash and abrasive loss of your older sibling. I am comforted that you two can be together as I am here helping your sisters grow up. You both have two amazing sisters now. I have told them your stories and they know that someday they will meet you. Oh what a glorious day that will be!

Looking at your sisters will remind me that I have had 4 little babies inside my womb and that I only get to hug and kiss two. It is a harsh reminder that life does take the things we love. We have to overcome the grief and not get buried there. I embraced your loss, but I didn’t pack up and live there. I had to be strong. I grieved, but I know you are waiting for me. And I am here to help your sisters grow up in love, and knowing that you are also loved.

To my last lost mini me. It pains me to even type this. How fresh your loss is to me despite it being 10 years ago. Your loss was one of the hardest. Not that I loved you more. But that when I started to lose you, I went to the doctors, I saw you on the monitor. Your little heart was just beating away. It was 3 days until my birthday, and I was told to rest. Surely it will be fine.

You left us on my birthday, and laying in my bed, with your big sisters so confused at why their mommy was so very sad, I was lost. In that moment, all I could think of was, “Why?” Why did God take every other one of my babies home to be with him?

I don’t have an answer. I am comforted only by the fact that I will see each of you again. You built inside me a strength to withstand some of the darkest times in my life. If I can survive the loss of a child, not to mention the loss of 3, then I can survive anything.

God brought new life despite the loss so shortly after when I became pregnant with Sarah. She stayed safely in my womb till she was born and is currently the last sibling you have, though I hope to change that in God’s time.

Just in case you look down on me and your 3 sisters from heaven, I want each of you to know, you are all loved. You each have your own place in all of our hearts. With a death before each new life that I brought into this world by only the grace of God, I learned to appreciate life in a new way. His mercy and grace overcoming my fear with each new life that made it here.

I stand before each of you today, still with that fear in me. That fear of loss. I pray that as you look down upon me, you know I love you. The day that I see you again will be filled with tears of joy and gratitude that you have prepared a place for me and wait anxiously to meet your mommy.

I love you all,




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