January is miscarriage month. It’s not a national recognition and no you can’t find it on Google. It’s just “miscarriage month” to me. I lost a baby in January. A daughter. A little girl. And that I can’t forget.
January will never be anything to me but “miscarriage month.”
It’s so odd how you can be in a place of sadness but in the same thought be so overwhelmed with the joy of what you have. This place of grief is strange but powerful. Deep reminders of what should have been are overwhelming but when I open my eyes I see what’s in front of me. We wouldn’t have our sweet Beau if we hadn’t lost Charlotte. I know that now. God has given us four beautiful children.
I can still imagine her face. When I close my eyes I see her. Sometimes I see her when I’m outside. A butterfly. A cloud. A dragonfly. A single bird flying by. Sometimes I see her in the shadows of our house at night. Sometimes she’s in my dreams.
I see her face just as clear. Always smiling. Saying “Mommy it’s okay. I’ll meet you one day. Until then I’m here and there and everywhere.”
January is “miscarriage month” and I don’t think that will ever change for me. I’m done having babies and I have four beautiful children. But January will always remind me of the section of my heart that’s missing. Even in joy there’s sadness and even in grief there’s joy.
I will never forget.