Two Little Pines: Thoughts on Pregnancy Loss
I am currently a busy mom of 4 little boys.
I am swimming in art projects, buried in papers coming home from school, busy chauffeuring, packing lunches, and cheering from the sidelines of a soccer game while I chase smaller children around. Things are often chaotic, overwhelming even. My mind spins at all hours with how to get things done, how to challenge someone about this, how to support someone about that, and how to give each child individualized love and time and energy and experiences.
But not for one single second do I forget where I came from. Not too long ago I was discouraged and sad after getting bad news after bad news as Josh and I tried so hard to be parents. I have never been more hopeless, but also never been so tenacious in my life.
We struggled for years to create a family. We suffered two miscarriages before any of our four rainbow babies were born. We were parents long before we actually got to hold and snuggle and kiss a baby (or in our case babies) for the first time.
In the summer of 2012, after we were healing from our second miscarriage, we planted two swirling pine trees in a garden at our old house to honor the two babies we had lost. After Nolan and Judah were born, we couldn't think of a better place to take their newborn pictures. We spent many hours near it pulled like a magnet towards all the feelings it produced.
When we bought our new house, it was imperative these little pines came too. In fact, they were one of the first things we "packed."
Josh and I debated a lot where we should put them- it had to be an excellent spot (I almost said perfect there, but I am remembering that I am working on striving for excellence, not perfection #firstborn). Should the pines be in the front where we would drive up and see them every day? In a special tranquil area of our house where we could go pray and meditate? In a safe, secluded area where our kids wouldn't ever hurt them?
We decided to put them right outside our large kitchen window. Where do you spend more time than in your kitchen?! The hours we are doing dishes and prepping food, these trees are in our eyesight. The other special thing is that those trees are now among where my four children play. They play tag near them, jump on the trampoline near them, play pretend near them, roast marshmallows with our neighbors near them. Tears stream down my face from time to time seeing my four boys be in such close proximity to the little pine trees. My boys know about these little pines and know what they are for and who they are for.
I still have an aching sadness I was never able to hold and love on those babies. I also know I would never have the family I currently do without those miscarriages, that journey, that struggle.
During October, which is pregnancy loss month, I just needed to say that these two babies are always, always with us.
I am swimming in art projects, buried in papers coming home from school, busy chauffeuring, packing lunches, and cheering from the sidelines of a soccer game while I chase smaller children around. Things are often chaotic, overwhelming even. My mind spins at all hours with how to get things done, how to challenge someone about this, how to support someone about that, and how to give each child individualized love and time and energy and experiences.
But not for one single second do I forget where I came from. Not too long ago I was discouraged and sad after getting bad news after bad news as Josh and I tried so hard to be parents. I have never been more hopeless, but also never been so tenacious in my life.
We struggled for years to create a family. We suffered two miscarriages before any of our four rainbow babies were born. We were parents long before we actually got to hold and snuggle and kiss a baby (or in our case babies) for the first time.
In the summer of 2012, after we were healing from our second miscarriage, we planted two swirling pine trees in a garden at our old house to honor the two babies we had lost. After Nolan and Judah were born, we couldn't think of a better place to take their newborn pictures. We spent many hours near it pulled like a magnet towards all the feelings it produced.
When we bought our new house, it was imperative these little pines came too. In fact, they were one of the first things we "packed."
Josh and I debated a lot where we should put them- it had to be an excellent spot (I almost said perfect there, but I am remembering that I am working on striving for excellence, not perfection #firstborn). Should the pines be in the front where we would drive up and see them every day? In a special tranquil area of our house where we could go pray and meditate? In a safe, secluded area where our kids wouldn't ever hurt them?
I still have an aching sadness I was never able to hold and love on those babies. I also know I would never have the family I currently do without those miscarriages, that journey, that struggle.
During October, which is pregnancy loss month, I just needed to say that these two babies are always, always with us.
Comments
Post a Comment