Sharing Sorrows

My friends Craig and Stephany miscarried a baby some time ago. Today was her due date. I know they are grieving.

I know because I've grieved on my due date.

I was 7 weeks pregnant when I miscarried. I was elated, flying high one minute, and completely devastated the next. It didn't make sense. When the ER doc told me that my OB/GYN was willing to come in to do a D&C, I declined. I needed time to process what he was saying.

I don't remember if it was the next day, or two days later that I went in. I kept hoping someone would tell me there had been a mistake; that everything was fine.

I remember the stupid things people said to me. People close; people who should have known better. I remember the ridiculous things sending people into tailspins of depression. I wanted to scream at them all. I had a baby, and now that baby was gone. And their petty problems didn't compare. And the attention they were getting just laid stones of hurt at the bottom of my broken heart.

I know that months later, when people had completely forgotten that pain was still there. I'd cry at the drop of a hat.

When I did get pregnant again, that excitement I'd felt the first time was replaced with caution and fear. Then a friend of mine lost her baby the night before he was to be delivered. And the fear grew. It didn't go away until the doctor told us we had a son.

I found a box in our den this past fall. It was a smallish box, and I thought it was full of rose petals. But when I opened it, it was full of baby things from our first baby. A pregnancy journal I had started. A stuffed animal. Baby booties. And sympathy cards. And I sat down and cried.

I don't know who that little baby would have been. I don't know if they would have been a boy or girl. I know they are in Heaven with my Heavenly Father, and with my earthly father. And even though it's been more than 8 years, I still grieve. And cry. And my heart goes out to my friends because I know what they are feeling.

Sharing sorrow doesn't make it any easier.