Monday, July 9, 2012

For the Unborn Child

I cried when I heard that a former co-worker of mine lost her baby.

I was standing in the back at work when another co-worker told me they found out a little over a week ago that the baby had no heartbeat. Tears came to my eyes and I had to press a hand to my mouth to keep from sobbing out loud.

I went to the mother’s wedding a few years ago and rejoiced with her on the news of their pregnancy. An invitation to her baby shower came in the mail about two weeks ago. She is a friend, though not a close one, and I mourn for her loss.

I am not a mother, but my older sister and brother-in-law have a baby boy on the way, our parents’ first grandchild. I love my nephew so much, even though I’ve never met him and all the pictures I’ve seen have been a bit murky (that tends to happen with ultrasounds). He is a part of our family already, and I can’t even imagine the pain that would come with losing him—to me, to my parents, but most of all to my sister and her husband.

My sister’s pregnancy is what brought my former co-worker’s loss home for me. Yes, I would have been sad for the mother even if my nephew wasn’t on the way. But the life growing inside my sister is so precious, to all of our family, that hearing of another growing life ended before it barely began makes my heart ache. I want to embrace that mother, cry with her, and let her know that somebody else feels a tiny part of the pain she is going through.

I realize that I can’t truly understand the pain of a mother who has lost her child until I am standing in that place myself. But after this glimpse into the heartache of losing a baby, I hope and pray that I will never find myself standing in that place, yearning for a child who will never return.


  1. You cry at unexpected times. You think that you're over the loss, but something sets you off. "No baby! No baby!"

    But in my case, I wouldn't have had your wonderful sister who's carrying her own right now if I hadn't lost my first.

  2. We lost our first child at 20 weeks, on Labor Day in 2007. He would probably be in Kindergarten this year, and that's all I can think about.
    Sadly, this is a pain that is known all to well, and I'm just the father. My wife doesn't like to think about it at all. Thankfully, we have a beautiful 3 year old daughter now, that will forever get the love of both.

    1. I am sorry for your loss. Blessings on your family!