I wrote this post last year on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Everything I wrote still resonates. I hope these words uplift you today.Continue reading
The final organization I want to talk about this month is about something that is very close to my heart. If you haven’t been reading this blog very long, mainly for my book or film/tv reviews, you may not know that I am a loss mom. Before I had my kid, I was pregnant three different times. I had one miscarriage and two stillbirths before my rainbow baby.
After my first stillbirth, the hospital presented me with a shoebox filled with sweet encouraging notes, a candle, some lotion, and a sweet letter from another loss mom. That is the main mission of Hope Mommies, to provide support to mothers and families experiencing infant loss.
Speaking specifically about the Dallas chapter, they have a private Facebook groups, meet for dinner about once a month in various parts of DFW, and come together (before COVID, mainly) to put together shoeboxes of support like the one I received at my stillbirth (I actually received another one at my second stillbirth as well. I have been blessed to be able to be a part of some of these gatherings that put together the shoeboxes, knowing how much it meant to me, personally.
And, they usually host an event in October (which is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month) to remember the precious little ones. Sometimes it is a walk, sometimes a balloon release, sometimes it’s just a small service to remember. Plus, they host Bible studies using devotional books that were written by other Hope Mommies.
1 in 4 women experience pregnancy loss at some point in their lifetime. To have organizations like Hope Mommies, a community of women who support each other in their faith in Christ, is necessary. I hope to continue supporting others and walking with them in their journey just as these beautiful women have walked with me.
For more information about this organization, you can visit their website here.
All around the country today, there will be candles lit for babies lost. I became a part of this community in 2013. It’s a community of compassion and welcome, though no member wishes anyone had to join it.
Recently, I was sitting in the OB waiting room, waiting for an annual check up appointment. I saw across the room another woman and her mother, both intently staring into their phones. And I noticed the tears quietly streaming down both their faces. I knew this look all to well.
The woman was approached by another woman in the room, which convicted me to join this small group. It turned out that the woman who was crying was having a 9 week miscarriage. The other woman who approached had also experienced pregnancy loss. Encouragement was shared, and then space and privacy given to the grieving family after her husband arrived.
It was a powerful moment in what can feel like an isolating journey. 1 in 4 women experience pregnancy loss. I guarantee that someone you know has gone through it, even if they have never talked about it. But our society doesn’t reflect these facts.
But October 15th gives us an opportunity to remember. Remember the children we have lost. Remember those precious moments of hope and expectation. The positive pregnancy tests, the heartbeats, the in-womb dance parties. My daughters are as much a part of my story as my living son is. What is the saying? “As long as I have breath, my baby you shall be.”
If you want to take part in today, remember the babies who are no longer with us, light a candle tonight at 7 pm, in all time zones. And if you are grieving your own loss, know that you aren’t alone in your remembering. There is a community here surrounding you in love, thought, and prayer.
Today, Facebook will remind me of when I went to the hospital to confirm that our daughter had passed. Facebook will remind me of how I numbly pulled out my laptop and typed words on a screen. Facebook will remind me of how I got back onto the familiar road of grief one year ago.
I know that you can remove memory reminders on Facebook. You can remove whole chunks of time if you want to. But I don’t want to. I want to remember the sweet nurse that kept hope for us as each medical device came back negative for a heartbeat. I want to remember how the moment the ultrasound confirmed our worst fears, my OB turned around and created a new game plan. If her sleeves weren’t already rolled up, I know she would have in that moment. I want to remember my talk with Jesus, how I re-engaged my stubborn and desperate love in the middle of chaotic grief.
I thought I would be pregnant by now, though. I hoped I would be, that maybe a new pregnancy would lessen the blow of grief that this week will bring. But I do have my husband, God, friends, family. And I’m so thankful that God has created these hedges of protection during one of the dark moments in my history.
God is good. All the time. Even in the darkened sad moments. Especially then.