Saturday, May 10, 2008

Loss

Before I begin, I wish to say that in no way, am I comparing my own grief and sense of loss with the very real loss(es) that other mothers have endured. I have never miscarried, lost a baby or child to illness or accident or through a failed adoption (disruption or government interference). I have only "lost" the children in my heart. Grief, yes. The same thing, no.

But this is what I feel. And what I dream about. Asleep dreams and awake dreams.

Last night, in my dream, I attended the funeral for the child(ren) of my heart. And I was not the only mom present. There were many, many moms at this public memorial service for children lost.

We filled a park-like setting (this was not at a cemetery) with chairs full of moms; those that knew their child, these who did not; those who carried a child to term and those who did not.


So many moms. So much sadness and grief and loss. I was struck with how many, many moms were grieving.

They must be everywhere. All the time.

And I have no idea that they have experienced a profound life-changing loss. They are out there, like me, grocery shopping, filling the car with gas, attending church, working a job and never, ever, not even for a minute forgetting the child(ren) they lost. The grief is ever present, something they always carry inside, invisible to others.

How many of these moms must want to publicly grieve and mourn and talk about their precious babies? For as long as it takes?

Well past the time that others wish to listen with sympathy. Far longer than the few weeks that our collective societal memory is interested in patiently listening to a mother's grief.

If you have lost a baby or child *for any reason*, you have my sincere sympathy. And I would *love* to hear about your child; the memories you have, the dreams you have lost, the memories unfulfilled.

If you wish to leave a comment about your grief, your loss, your very real loss, please feel free to do so. Tell us about your child. What you remember. What you mourn. What you miss. What you cannot get past.

I will move them from the comments section to the blog, if you wish, so that more people will know and love your child(ren) and will share in your loss and grief.

I want to listen. I want to help.

I understand, just a teeny bit. And that is enough.


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