The Baby I Never Held 

After meeting my husband in Iraq we both had a renewed sense of life and gratitude. We were excited to start our new family and both of us had an intensity about how we wanted to live our lives as a new family. Less than a year after the birth of our second daughter, we were excited to be pregnant again.

At 8 weeks of being pregnant, I noticed some spotting while going to the restroom one afternoon. Benny was at work and my mom took me to the emergency room. It was there that I learned that we had miscarried our 3rd baby.

I remember my mom taking me home and crawling into bed. I felt so broken and empty. My head went around and around with blame and wondering what I had done to cause this tragedy. For days I laid in bed. One afternoon Benny came in and said, “you’ve got to get out of bed, the other babies need you.” I am not sure if he really understood the magnitude of what I was feeling.

I got out of bed and carried on with raising our family. Three years went by before I conceived again. Life was busy. I thought of my unborn baby every day, but there just didn’t seem like there was enough time to allow me to fully grieve.

Recently, I’m finding this strong emotion of grief within me for the baby I never held. Miscarriage isn’t something that I’ve experienced a lot of dialogue with other women about and it makes me wonder how other women grieve the loss of a baby they never met. I feel like I need a way that is right for me. I have opened up to my kiddos about their sibling they have yet to meet. My son declared that I was carrying a boy and that we should give him the name Jack. He was so certain about it, so we all agreed.

Nine years ago, I purchased a tree for each one of our four children and planted them in the backyard. I have decided that I would like to buy a tree for Jack and plant it in my prayer garden. I hope that this symbol of Jack will offer me a place to go when I my heart hurts.

Until I hold you in heaven …