2014/01/01

How? // ¿Cómo?

(Más abajo en castellano.)

I've lost a child...again. And I don't know what to do with this loss.

My second child, Max, was born at 24 weeks, and two days later he died.  But I was given so many things to see, hold, remember, and honor his life with. He has a name, a face. I took pictures, I held him, and felt him inside me and out. I was given gifts in his memory. He even has an ultrasound machine named after him at a pregnancy center. He has a grave marker with his name on it, a place to leave flowers. People take about him, say his name.

Almost a month ago I found out I was pregnant with our third; a week later I fell down the stairs and miscarried. I don't have a name or face for this child. I have no pictures. People don't talk about a six-week miscarriage. Because, what is there to talk about?

How can I be a mother to this child, too? How do I honor my third child's life when I have nothing? What do I talk about when there's nothing to talk about?

I would feel like a hypocrite to keep talking about Max and not our third child. They're both my children. Both loved. Both gone to be with Jesus.

In so many ways, burying Max was easier than this.

If someone has figured this out, please tell what you've done to honor your lost child/children. How do you do it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perdí un hijo...otra vez. Y no sé que hacer con esta pérdida.

Mi segundo hijo, Maxi, nació a las 24 semanas, y falleció dos días después. Pero recibí tantas cosas que puedo ver, sostener, recordar y con la cuales honrar su vida. Tiene un nombre, un rostro. Saqué fotos, lo tuve en brazos y lo sentí dentro mio y por fuera también. Me regalaron obsequios en su memoria. Hasta tiene un ultrasonido con su nombre en un centro de asistencia para embarazadas. Tiene su nombre en una place sobre su lápida, y un lugar donde dejarle flores. Hay personas que hablan de él, que dicen su nombre.

Hace casi un mes me enteré que estaba embarazada con nuestro tercer hijo; una semana después me caí por las escaleras en casa y tuve un aborto espontáneo. No tengo un nombre ni un rostro para este niño/a. No tengo fotos. Otros no hablan de un embarazo perdido de seis semanas. Porque, ¿qué hay para hablar?

¿Cómo puedo ser mamá para este niño también? ¿Cómo puedo honrar la vida de mi tercer hijo cuando no tengo nada? ¿De qué hablo cuando no hay nada de que hablar?

Me sentiría como una hipócrita si sigo hablando de Maxi pero no de nuestro tercero. Ambos son hijos. Ambos amados. Ambos están con Jesús.

De muchas maneras, enterrar a Maxi fue más fácil que esto.

Si alguien ha encontrado como honrar a los niños que perdieron, por favor digánme como. ¿Cómo lo hacen?

3 comments:

Katelyn Bumgardner said...

Liz,

I have miscarried four, and I agree that it is hard. It is hard to remember them. So, in hindsight, I would say, do purpose some special way to remember them. I have always talked openly about my four that are not with me, but with no special commemoration.

I have always thought it would be harder still to hold my babe and then bury that one I had seen, known, named, and touched. But, perhaps not.

We can't make everything the same for each child, so don't feel that you have to. Just prayerfully decide what would best help you to remember and celebrate their life. You have tangible memories of Max, but not of this wee one. That will always be hard.

The only figuring out that I have done is Christ working to heal me, comfort me, and grow my understanding of Him. And this He has done as He promised. Teaching me to meekly submit to his sovereign hand. Teaching me to trust his wise plan. Teaching me that He is sufficient for my deepest heart ache or heart desire. Run to Christ. Memorize his words to you and rehearse them over and over. It is the best balm for an aching mother's heart.

You are on my prayer list, and I will continue to uphold you.

Love,
Meg


bonnie said...

You will grieve, always wonder what he would have looked like and been like, even 21 years later. But one day we will know him, and until that day we have to accept God's plan, and realize that He knows what is best. We pour that love into our living children, our grandchildren, and any other children that surround us. So sorry for your loss.

mainelymy said...

I miscarried 1 baby before Landonn and one baby before Josie. I find that thinking "they have the best life ever bc they never felt cold, never felt hunger, never felt fear....they just felt the Loving Arms of Jesus" but I just mourn my loss as a mom...and then I can't believe the incredible surprise I may get when I get to heaven....I am going to see 2 little faces that God have given to my womb...God chose to have them in His presence before I had them in mine. To me, I get the ultimate "are you having a boy or girl?" when I arrive in Heaven. And one year.....the one year mark....for the first year I was just sad, sad bc I wondered if I was ever not going to be sad...bc at my birthday, I was supposed to have a new little person to celebrate with and the sadness came...at Christmas, even like on Flag Day...for one of them I had a due date....that day was painful...but after a year, I felt like all the 1sts were over and it somehow became, I don't know the right word, but different....the sadness was still there, the thoughts still went to my sadness, but the sadness was less sad. I am so sorry for your losses Liz...the timeframe for your 2nd and my 1st were almost the same. Found out I was pregnant, and one week later, sitting at my desk at work, I just KNEW the pain was not typical pregnancy pain. I knew SOME blood was normal right off but not this much blood. Wanting it to stop, at least tell me how far along, at least tell me if I was losing a boy or a girl. Is this happening because I took that 4 wheeler ride? Is this happening because I wasn't married? And it all just takes time to work through it, and the "how", I have no advice for the "how." Just be ready for when the sadness overtakes, but be ready to begin to release the sadness into something different begins to happen. I love you Liz, sorry for rambling.