miscarriage

to my lost girl on her feast day

Dear Verity,

It’s the Feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, and you won’t be born today.

Most babies don’t show up on their due dates, it’s true…but you won’t be born any other day this week or next week, because you were born into Heaven many months ago.

And I still miss you.

I’m not going to wrap you in a swaddling blanket or put tiny clothes on you. We’re not going to marvel at how long your fingers are or how your chin looks just like your dad’s. We won’t be waiting to see if your eyes will stay blue like your sisters’ or change to a rich chocolate like your brother’s.

I didn’t even knit you a hat.

(Oh, how I wish I had done that.)

Instead, Baby Girl, there’s a space- a not-quite-empty space you occupy, a space where you are still (somehow, mysteriously) part of our family…a space that isn’t here or there but is somewhere in between, where our spirits still touch and where someday, somehow we’ll see you and hold you and know exactly who you are and that you are ours.

In that space, we belong to each other, and you are always my child.

Until then, I’m holding you in my heart.

Until then, I’m always going to miss you in my here-and-now- at our breakfast table, in our minivan, in the bathtub with your brother and sisters.

Until then, we will celebrate your tiny life- today, with pools and splashing and water balloons and popsicles and all the summer chaos we can manage with all the kids we can find- because all life, no matter how small, deserves a party.

Until then, we love you.

Always,
Your Mama

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