we never forget

He would be nearly six and a half — our son, had he lived.

Yet he never drew a breath of air. He was never welcomed to this world, on the outside. I never heard his cry, or his laugh. I was never even able to gaze into his eyes. I can only imagine what he’d be like today.

Once again, it’s Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance (or Awareness) Day. Of course I don’t need a special day to remember. Neither do you, I imagine. Yet many remain blissfully ignorant of how such loss affects us, as women, as well as our partners. People don’t consider the pervasive impact the loss of a much wanted baby has on our families.

If you too have suffered a devastating loss, I hope you are surrounded by compassionate people who do in fact care, who remember with you. Yet many others will never stop to think of our lost children, those who never came to be or who left too soon.

To you who have loved and lost, I honor the memory of your lost babies, today and every day.

To you who have never had the misfortune of losing a much wanted soul before his or her time, please take a moment and remember with someone who has — perhaps a friend, a sister, an aunt, a neighbor, a colleague — everyone knows someone, even if you don’t know you do.

Don’t be afraid to tell someone you’re thinking of them. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Trust me, you aren’t raising something painful yet long forgotten. Chances are someone might appreciate the gesture, to share a story that others have forgotten or that was invisible to the rest of the world yet left an indelible mark nonetheless.

We will never forget.

How could I possibly forget my first child, my only son? How could I not wonder about him and what our family would look like had he lived? I still do, nearly every day.

And please, the next time you encounter someone who has lost a baby, by all means, tell them you are sorry for their loss. But please, never begin with “at least” — e.g., at least you know you can get pregnant, at least you have another baby, at least you are still young. There is no “at least.”  There is only “at most” — i.e., at it’s core, a loved child was lost, a part of the family missing, a piece of one’s heart gone forever.


~ by luna on October 15, 2012.

17 Responses to “we never forget”

  1. Just a pure “I’m sorry for the loss of your beloved son.” And a virtual hug to go with it. I see there’s a star for him in the painting Mel drew of you in the sidebar.


  2. Remembering with you. Beautiful post.

  3. Yours was the first blog I found when I went looking for support online after my third m/c. Until then I didn’t know about the online community of support that existed, especially in the wee dark hours of the night.

    I remember reading about your son, sobbing, hand clasped over my mouth as I shook. I was alone in a hotel room on a business trip. Two kids and many years later, I still remember the moment clearly and painfully.

    Thank you for sharing your experiences with us, in all of its raw form. It helped me make it through that business trip a a very vulnerable and scary time.

    I remember your son, the babies of many friends, and my own today.

  4. Remembering with you, today and always.

  5. So true and well said. I am also remembering with you today and everyday. xoxo

  6. […] to tell you all, the 1 in 4, you are NOT alone. We all remember. I remember, because these brave women have inspired me to […]

  7. Beautiful. Remembering with you. My child would be three and three-quarters. I’ve always wondered if it was a boy or a girl. I was so devastated by the loss that I couldn’t bear to ask.

  8. This is such a beautiful and remarkable post. I’m here, abiding with you and remembering your son. xoxo

  9. Beautiful post! I remember with you xo

  10. Perfectly said. I remember him and I’m thinking of you.

  11. Remembering and abiding with you.

  12. Beautifully said. That last paragraph, YES! And that goes for any kind of loss.

  13. I feel very lucky to have lost our son early so that the loss was not as real. I just talked to Kami (the other side) she lost her son on the 20th of this month. I can’t imagine how hard and all the pain and then for people not to act as though a life has been lost. What was your son’s name? thinking of all of you.

  14. Thank you for sharing this post. I have a couple of friends who come to mind who had miscarriages and when I tried to talk to them about it, they brushed it off trying to sound brave and positive. I guess I would have done the same. No, I never walked in their shoes, but I knew what it was like to want something so badly and never have it come to fruition. What kept you going in the direction of building your family?

  15. I hope that as more people talk about neonatal and infant loss, the more educated the public will be on its extreme devastation. It is a loss that deserves to me acknowledged.

  16. ❤ you Luna

  17. […] while the thought of him is never too far away, it does seem to get a little farther each year. Never forgotten, of course. Just a little more distant with time and space. Inevitable […]

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