Open Apology To My Friends That Had A Miscarriage Before I Was A Mom

I remember the day I received the phone call and text. You were seven weeks along and you had lost your sweet angel. Sure, I came to visit you in the hospital, called you, texted you and cried with you but I didn’t really get it. I was not yet a mom and had no idea the bond and love for a child from the very minute of conception. I went on about my life, didn’t remember the anniversary of your loss and never realized how difficult Mother’s Day would be for you. I said all the wrong things from “they are back with Jesus” to “thank goodness you were not that far along.” These horrible things were a far cry from what you needed and wanted to hear. I’m sorry. I thought all the wrong things too from “how can she be so upset?” to “she can have more babies.” I never even asked if you gave them a name so we could talk about them regularly and how loved they in fact were. I in fact never brought them up again, in fear I would upset you. That was wrong, because you think of them every single day and remember there is a missing piece to your family. I never imagined the hurt it must bring you seeing my children that would be around his or her age right now, always wondering who they might have been.

The very minute I found out I was going to be a mom and every time after, I think of you friend. I have never told anyone but I cry for you often. You have more children now, but none can even replace the sweet angel that is not here. I know I didn't do everything right then but I want you to know that I am trying to make up for it now. I do things differently when I have a friend with the loss of an angel baby. I do this because of you and your angel baby. The special baby is making a difference in this world and in the hearts of others just like mine even though they were only here for seven short weeks.  I also want you to know that I get it now, it get it. I will never fully get it because I have never had a loss but now being a mom, I understand. The bond with your child is instant, even if you never get to meet them.

I am so sorry for not being the kind of friend you needed during such a painful time. I am sorry for not recognizing your loss, just because we were never able to meet him or her doesn't mean they didn't’ exist. If I could do it over, if I could have been there for you after I was already a mom I would have done things differently. I would talk to you more about the baby, ask the name, ask to see ultrasound pictures, send you a card and call you on the anniversary, call you on the birthday the angel baby would have had, remind you on Mother’s Day that you are still a mom even though they are not here with you. I would cry with you, bring you meals, think of you often and let you know and I would send you gifts that help you always remember that someone else things of your angel baby just as often as you do. I would walk with you in the valley and help you carry that burden for as long as needed.

You see, I can now be this kind of friend to mommy friends that have suffered a loss because of your angel baby. In seven weeks, without ever even meeting them, they chang

4 Types Of Children You Meet At The Park

The dreaded park. It’s filled with littles who don’t wash hands, unsupervised children wandering into moving swings and bullies. I see you over there on the phone, mom. You just missed it, but your child just shoved a handful of dirt in his mouth. No need for lunch now. Group of moms over there socializing, yup, one of your children just jumped off the very top of that slide. I see a trip to the ER coming soon. See that child over there; she just threw sand in her own face. Note to self: avoid the sandbox. Now we are just waiting for her mom to run over there. Oh wait, where is her mom? Who does this child belong to? Oh my goodness, did her mom just leave her here? Probably not, but that’s the thought process I go through very quickly while at the park. If you are a regular park mom, you become very familiar with the types of children you will see at the park on any given day. Here are four types you have probably already seen.

1. The Wanderer

You can’t really be sure which mom this child belongs to. He or she has been wandering from mom to mom since you arrived. He or she will come up to you and might even sit beside you and give you a big hug. You awkwardly hug back while scoping out the scene to see if a mom is coming your way for this child. Nope, not a mom in sight. This child will also want the snacks you have for your own child. Once he or she is full or had enough hugs, off the child goes, onto the next mom.

2. The Sand- and Dirt-Eater

From a distance, this child appears to be simply “playing” in the dirt or sand. Once you approach you will see the sand and dirt is clearly all over his or her mouth and face. Basically, the child is covered in it and is shoving it in his or her mouth with both hands. You slowly usher your own child away because the sand- and dirt-eater likes to teach others how enjoyable it is to do the same.

3. The Swing Hogger

Seriously, you’ve patiently been waiting. All your sweet child wants to do is get on the swing. Honestly, your child will be over it in about five minutes and want down. However, there is a child that is on the swing who apparently never wants to get down. The swing hog is usually talking loudly and screaming, “This swing is so much fun! Best swing ever!” He or she usually gets off the swing just as you are ready to leave.

4. The Terrified Slider

There she goes; mommy is ushering her up the stairs to the slide. “Go on, honey, don’t be scared.” You hold your child back because you know this little sweetie is about to start putting it in reverse to go back down the stairs. If anyone is behind her, it will cause a state of pure panic, and a meltdown will ensue. She makes it to the top, but you know what is going to happen next. Now she is too high up, too scared to go back down the stairs and too scared to go down the slide. Now nobody is going down the slide. You begin to help her mom encourage her down. “Noooooo! I’m not coming down!” This usually lasts about five minutes. Finally mom is defeated and begins to go up the stairs. This is usually the point where the child goes down the slide.

I honestly love watching children play at the park, running around with all their different little personalities. It’s so funny. I have to admit that my own children fall into some of these categories. Even so, a park is a place to let loose and have fun. It’s also the best place to go and gear up for naptime! Have you encountered any of these types of children at the park? Maybe you could even add some to the list?

A Mom and Her Grief

I will never forget the day our four year old son asked me “Where is your mommy?” It wasn't a question I was prepared for. I had barely dealt with my own grief, much less thought ahead enough to explain to our son why he doesn't have two grandmas like everyone else. I remember feeling a rush of overwhelming emotions. I said “Nana is in Heaven with Jesus.” He paused for a moment and with childlike innocence quickly replied, “Well, let’s just go visit her.” If only there was a way to go visit her in Heaven, things would be so much easier. I sat him down and pulled out pictures of her, books she had sent him when I was pregnant and shared how much she loved him even though they never met.

This year like every year we planned to celebrate her birthday by sharing memories and looking at old pictures. This year was different, this year was more special. Our son asked if he could let balloons go home to Nana. As he let the string slip through his tiny fingers, he began to sing “Happy Birthday.” I couldn't hold back the tears and that was ok. He then looked at me and said “Next year I think she wants a cake and we can blow out candles for her too.”  I stood there realizing I was so scared to explain loss and grief to our son and it was unfounded. Our sweet son taught me so much more about grief on that very day than I have learned in my entire three years of living in grief.

My heart hurts for my children and the fact that they will never know what an amazing lady Nana truly was. They will never know the comfort of her hugs, the joy in her laughter and the sound of her voice. My heart hurts for my mom and the fact that she will never get to spoil them, she will never get to experience life as a Nana and watch them grow up. My heart hurts for me that I will never get to see her be a grandmother, never get to go to her for advice as a mother and I will never get to say “Let’s go to Nana’s house.”

I don’t ever want to hide my grief from my children. I want them to know that when you love someone so much and lose them grief is part of this messy process. I don’t want to hide my tears from them when the memories of her flow. I don’t want to let them see me hiding in bed on her birthday or the anniversary of her passing. I want them to see me celebrate her life, celebrate the day she was welcomed home to Heaven and celebrate the fact that she gets the best view of our lives from above.

Most importantly, I want my children to know that even though Nana is in Heaven, she loves them so much. That even though they do not have a Nana here on Earth, it doesn't mean they don’t have one just like everyone else. It just means that they’re Nana was called home sooner than everyone else’s.