Candles

Today was a national day of remembrance and awareness of pregnancy loss and miscarriage. At 7:00 pm local time, all around the country, women who have been touched by this kind of tragedy lit a candle for one hour in remembrance of the little ones whose lives were cut short before they could really even begin. A wave of light swept across the nation as 7:00pm hit each new time zone and mothers everywhere remembered. I lit three candles tonight. One each for two dear friends who have been forever altered by the empty places in their families. And one for our little one who might have been.

Time does bring healing, and it would be literally impossible to live my life without being acutely aware of everything I have to be thankful for in the two little girls who fill our home with laughter and love. One of those girls would not be here today if I had not lost the little baby whose short life both began and ended in the womb, and so I cannot say that I regret that loss now. Although the life of our little one was very short, just a blip on the screen really, it affected me so profoundly that I really believe that it was a turning point in my life. I remember writing shortly after I miscarried of how I wanted that baby's life to mean something, how I wanted it to make me better, and not bitter. And I think I can say that it has. I have a greater understanding of the greatness, goodness, sovereignty, power, and love of our God than I ever could have had if He had not walked me through those days of darkness when I felt I could not put one foot in front of the other. Knowing something of the ache and emptiness of losing the fullness of hope that a pregnancy brings has helped me to reach out to others who are having this all-too-common experience. It has made me more compassionate and aware of others.

God has been so gracious to me. I don't think it's always true that we get the answers to the "why" questions we ask when we're in pain. But in His grace He has provided that for me as it relates to our miscarriage; I no longer ask Him "why," because I can see so much good fruit that has come even of this bad and awful thing that happened to me. I am a better person today, a more faithful person today, a better mother and a better friend because of that little life. And so I thank God for it, and one day I look forward to meeting that son or daughter in heaven.

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I love the words of Andrew Peterson in this song he wrote to the little baby that he and his wife lost. I hope you'll take a few minutes to listen to it, and remember all the many lives who have been touched and seared by the pain of loss like this. And to my dear friends who do not go a day, or even an hour without remembering, I hope you are comforted to know that I remembered today, too.

"They say there ain't no sleepin' in heaven, but baby that don't mean that you can't dream.

So when you close our eyes know your mother and I pray the Lord your little soul to keep.

And we never got a chance to hold you, no we never got to tell you good night.

So we hope you can hear as Jesus cradles you near, Baby, this is your lullaby."