The first week of March has been a little rough for me for the last two decades. In the afternoon of March 4, 1992, my dream of having a newborn baby was shattered when I was informed that the baby I carried was stillborn.
Not sure how to react, or even if I could believe the awful news, I denied it at first, still remembering the clop, clop, clop of the sweet heartbeat from the month before. My husband and I had teased about “our little pony.” After all, Doppler batteries could drain, doctors could be wrong, and my oldest child would celebrate her 4th birthday two days later. This wasn’t the time to mourn, right?
And yet it was.
It was also a time to live, even though I had days where I would have gladly stayed in bed, curled into a ball, pretending the inevitable wouldn't happen.
But of course it did. With an almost four-year–old who had been looking forward to a birthday party with all of her best friends as well as a busy sixteen-month old, we had a party to host and things to do while my body took it’s time going into labor.
Looking back, the last week-and-a-half that I carried my second son was a time of both harsh realities and tender mercies. I learned to lean on my husband, my Heavenly Father, and my Savior. Decisions were made, burdens were eased, kindnesses extended.
Ten days after finding out my little son had died, I delivered him. The emotions were many: numbness, sadness, anger, frustration, and many more.
I tried to figure out why he had left. How would I explain his leaving to our older children, and would I be able to deal with the reality that I would only hold him once?
Losing a baby through stillbirth and miscarriage is an experience only truly understood by others who have gone through it. If the lost child was wanted and hoped for, it can be every bit as devastating as losing a child who was born alive and welcomed into their family. And yet, other people’s reactions to this devastating experience vary from helpful to hurtful.
Sixteen authors share their stories of miscarriage in hopes of strengthening others going through the same trial. We want to get the message out that when you lose an unborn baby, you’re not alone.
When I lost my very first child to miscarriage, someone gave me a book similar to Little Boy Blue: Finding Hope after Miscarriage. That book brought me comfort as I tried to navigate around a loss I never thought I'd have to endure.
When one loses a baby through miscarriage or still birth, there is a lot of guilt and blame--almost always undeserved.
“Is it my fault?”
“What could I have done differently?”
“How do I cope?”
“Will the pain ever end?”
It can be—and is—a scary, painful, devastating, confusing time.
Along with fifteen other women, coming from all walks of life, with differing experiences with motherhood, I share the story of suddenly belonging to a club I didn't want admission to: Mothers who have miscarried.
Little Boy Blue: Finding Hope After Miscarriage offers a message of hope and connection to other mothers (and fathers) going through a truly unique experience.
The women in this book share their trials, their pain, and their recovery in hopes they can reach out to others going through the same experience and ease their pain. To offer the comfort that while you may think no one can truly understand how it feels to lose an unborn child, way too many people DO know the pain and hardship.
If you, or someone you know, has suffered a miscarriage or stillbirth, Little Boy Blue: Finding Hope After Miscarriage will be well-received. Within its pages you will find that others DO understand what you are going through and these women share their stories of grief and healing to let you know they are there in spirit, if not in physical presence.