Once upon a time I was ignorant to the sorrows of the world.
Once upon a time I had no idea.
When I was just 9-years-old a babysitter of mine, Rene died tragically while pregnant. She and her daughter were buried together. I remember looking at tiny Jessica in the casket, and being sad for her daddy and for her family. But I was 9. I couldn't completely grasp the situation.
When I was 11-years-old a family in my church announced they were expecting a baby. Her routine ultrasound showed she had anencephaly. She was born at 7 months and lived for 12 minutes. I went to her funeral with my parents and cried for this tiny little girl that died too soon.
But even though I had sympathy, I didn't understand.
Even while expecting Oceana and watching a classmate and his wife struggle with a high-risk pregnancy, I couldn't wrap my head around all that it meant. Gideon was born at 26 weeks and lived for just 6 weeks. I felt guilty still being pregnant.
And then came Joshua.
I was thrown into a world I did not understand. I joined a "club" I never wished to join.
Now I understand.
I understand the holes that pregnancy and infant loss creates.
I understand that those holes will never, nor should they be, filled.
Since losing Joshua, I've lost two pregnancies (August 2010 and December 2010).
Those are two more holes.
Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.
Will you remember with me?