November 8 – This week I attended my monthly support group meeting with other parents who have lost their babies. I was blown away by how many people were there this month. Usually there are 4-5 couples. This time, the number was triple with about 12-15 couples. Sadly, four mothers were new with two of the most recent losses in October. It probably took all the strength they had to drive over to the meeting just weeks after losing their precious babies.

I remember all too well those first days and weeks. The grief is heavy and the darkness all-encompassing. You can barely believe that it happened much less utter the words aloud.

The structure of the meeting is that everyone has the opportunity to share their baby’s story. For some, the pain is too raw to even speak the first time. I’ve gotten better at sharing my story. I can get through most of it without crying up until the end when I share her birth. But it doesn’t stop me from crying when I listen to each and every other story. I share the parents’ tears and I consider it an honor to hear about their babies.

After hearing about the random circumstances or rare conditions that took these babies, I’m amazed that so many healthy children are born and brought home. Pregnancy is not the only miracle, but a full-term healthy baby that is born and whose parents get to bring him/her home is also a miracle.

Before Liliana, I thought the opposite. All babies come home. It wasn’t a miracle for a child to be born alive and healthy, it was a given. Not anymore. That’s the sad reality for anyone who has suffered this loss. No woman who lost a child will ever look at pregnancy the same, especially her own. Instead of being met with joyful anticipation, it will be met with fear and doubt. Many women just can’t do it. I’ve heard them say they can’t go through this pain again. And boy do I get it. As much as we all want our babies that we lost and future children, the thought of going home with a teddy bear in your arms from the hospital instead of your child is too much to bear (that is literally what they give you – a teddy bear – so that your arms aren’t empty as they wheel you out).

I don’t yet know these women well or their personal stories or backgrounds. I don’t know if they have God in their lives or any type of support system. But I do know that doubt and faith are two sides of the same coin. While the devil makes us doubt that anything will ever be okay again, Jesus asks us to trust in Him.

That’s what I want to tell these women. Don’t lose hope. Don’t let fear consume you. Instead, trust. We don’t know what life has in store for us. We don’t know if today is the day that changes the rest of our lives. But if we have faith in the One who made us, then we can get through it. We may not understand why bad things happen, but even where there is tragedy, goodness still rises. Where there is doubt, there is faith. Where there is fear, there is hope. Where there is pain, there is love. And where there is love, there is God.

One of my favorite poems is ‘Footprints in the Sand’. It speaks of a dream where a person was walking along the beach with the Lord. As different scenes from his life would flash before him, there were sometimes two sets of footprints and other times only one. The person noticed that during the most troublesome times in his life there was only one set of footprints. So he asked the Lord why, when he needed Him most, was He not there. And the Lord replied, the times you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

I know with certainty that He carried me this year. So many people have said ‘I don’t know how you got through this’ or ‘I couldn’t be that strong’. Well, neither could I. Not by myself. Like I said, the darkness was all-encompassing. But He was ‘a lamp for my feet and a light for my path’ (Psalm 119: 105). And I know He will help these women and men get past this stage as well, whether they ask for help or not. So if you’re reading this and you know the pain I speak of all too well, just trust. Trust.

After all of the introductions, there was a little time for general discussion at the end of the meeting. The leader brought up the holidays and how Christmas may be a difficult time, especially since it’s the first for many of us. Among the advice was don’t volunteer to bring the Christmas ham incase you decide the day of that you can’t make it. Park in the street for quick get-aways if things get to be too overwhelming. And basically, do whatever makes you comfortable with remembering and celebrating your baby and the holiday together.

For me, I’m less worried about signing up for the Christmas ham as I am about how to include Liliana in the season. I’m ordering her stocking and an ornament with her footprint engraved. I may ask Santa (aka my husband) for a ring with the names of my three girls. And I’m starting to look at Christmas cards for our family. I asked the veteran parents at the support group if they include their babies on their cards. Most did and they all assured me that it’s whatever I’m comfortable with. Of course I’m comfortable including Liliana. I’m not sure how the recipients will feel, but anyone who knows me and what my family has been through this year, should understand. So, for those of you on my Christmas list (or if you’d like to be, just let me know), you’ll be receiving a photo of all three of my girls. And from heaven and on earth, we will wish you all a blessed and merry Christmas.