Dear friend: When you told me that you miscarried your precious baby, my heart broke for you. I thought of the pain you would be in, both physically and emotionally, and I wished things were different.
We’re both in this “club” now; this horrible club that no one ever wants to join. I feel as though I should know what to say, but the truth is, I don’t. I don’t.
I know that words can’t fix this. The one thing that would fix this horrible situation is the one thing that is not going to happen. That leaves me lost for words sometimes, and I am sorry.
I’m sorry for the times I am silent when I should have spoken up. I’m sorry for the times I am awkward when the last thing you need is another person being awkward because of your loss.
Related: It Was More Than Just A Miscarriage
I’ve had people tell me that they feel their loss was “less” than mine because my Ariella was stillborn and their loss was “just” a miscarriage. But friend, I hope you know I do not think that at all. We both lost our babies, it just so happens that I had more months with my girl than you did.
Little lives, not little losses.
I think they are different kinds of hard. We both imagined our futures with them in it and looking ahead now to a future without them is devastating.
When you cry and wonder why God let this happen, I’m right there with you. When you talk about the pain of seeing other people’s lives go on unchanged, all I can do is nod. It sucks!
And while I want to do so, sometimes I can’t speak up because I know I’d be a blubbering mess and the last thing I want is to make people focus on me instead. It’s almost four years since I first starting asking those same questions and I haven’t found the answers. I’m not even sure there are answers actually, however much I wish there were.
But here’s one thing I do want you to know: I won’t forget.
That baby that was here for such a short time will be in my memory for a long time, alongside my Ariella. I think about them, and I wonder if they know each other.
Do they see us from Heaven and smile as they see us together?
Do they play together, as our living children do?
I hope so.
I don’t have a clue how Heaven works, but I sure hope they found each other and can keep one another company until we get there too.
One day, things will be right again, and we will be with our babies. But until then, dear friend, you and your baby are not forgotten. I will remember them.
Larissa is wife to Marcus and mama to four, including one precious girl lost to stillbirth. She writes about her daughter and life after loss at Deeper Still.