Fruitful and without

The most painful loss I have ever experienced 

is one that others try to steal from me.

Statements stealing the legitimate pain experienced when one suffers a miscarriage.

Yes, I'm still young and sure I only carried them for 10 weeks, 

but I am their mother and they are my children.

No other children are like them.

Do not try to keep your babies or your children from my eyes, 

assuming that it is too painful for me to see others with their babies.

I don't want your babies.

I don't want a baby.

I want my babies.

No other children are like my children, not even yours.

Each parent knows that no child compares to their child.

And I am blessed to have been in the presence of my children for as long as I was.

I am blessed to see how the short life of my children has shifted the course of the world.

I do not regret sharing the joy of my pregnancy with so many and with such excitement.

I am thankful that when my three musketeers surrendered, I had a community of people to celebrate

their lives with. 

A community of people who walked the painful road with me.

I am thankful I didn't hide.

A community of people who have seen me cry, scream, laugh and grow all because of

the three children I was blessed to have.

Thank you to all of you who have opened your doors to us, had meals with us and let us spill

our hurt to you. Thank you for sharing yours in return. Thank you to those who sent cards and resources.

Thank you to those who just came by to say hello. Thank you to those who weren't afraid to ask us questions about our experience. Thank you to those who were there when I had emergency surgery due to the pain of miscarrying. Thank you to those family and friends who opened themselves up to experience the magic of our three musketeers.

Now that I intimately know the pain of losing a child, I have a desire to share my experience and growth with others who are/have/ or will be experiencing the same awful event. 

If you have not experienced a miscarriage, I pray you never do.

It is tragic and unimaginably hurtful.

For a month I have been watching the tissue that once formed three beautiful babies be soaked up

by man-made fabrics. I have gotten to know what contractions feel like without delivering a bundle of joy. 

Pain would sweep my day away in a matter of minutes. Pain that became immune to ibuprofen and other supposed pain killers. I have been jolted awake in the middle of the night with physical pain and emotional torment. I have waited for hours in the ER, only to spend the rest of my night in the hospital undergoing an emergency d&c and biopsy to make sure that fetal tissue that once was life wasn't forming into cancer. I was forced to sign a piece of paper that would determine where the 'remains' of my babies would be buried. I have had friends avoid  me because of the awkwardness they encounter when faced with my story.

However, it's merely a season. And I am thankful for this cold, dreary season.

No one has experienced my children like I have, and I look forward to our family being reunited.

And hope has never left me.

I know that more children will bless my life. 

And I have discovered how wonderful it is to have the friends that I have. 

I have seen the support and love of my husband carry me through this time.

And I have been  reminded of my own strength.

So I say, I have experienced affliction but it has not destroyed my hope.

I have seen what hope truly is from the grave of those I love.