I've thought of a million ways to write what I wanted you to know. And I've found a million ways that are completely inadequate. Sometimes things happen that are too big, too deep, too felt for words to properly express.
So, as incomplete as it may be, I give you this.
During our life, it's accepted that we will know loss. We will face the death of a loved one. We will feel the emptiness where they once were. It's a part of the cycle. And even as I write this, you are thinking of your parent or friend, grandparent, aunt, someone you loved who you now mourn. Someone who you will one day be able to share a story about and laugh. It's accepted.
But then there's the part of death that we don't talk about except in hushed tones and only when absolutely unavoidable. We turn our heads and close our eyes because it is not happening to us. It cannot happen to us.
If not us, then who?
The part of death that is so incomprehensible is the loss of a child. A baby.
Because our children never die. Babies are born and they go home with their parents. Miscarriages don't exist.
So when it does happen, the unthinkable, the unbearable, what do we do?
I know that many of you reading this have been in that position (because you got me through some of the worst moments and are still my PALS). I know that you will understand.
I think by the time most of you read this it will be Friday. Those of you in the US are looking forward to a long holiday weekend.
I just ask that you spare a moment for another friend of mine. Because today should have been her son's first birthday.
She's braver than I think she realizes. She's certainly braver than me (and I feel it only fair to add that her husband should be included in this as they are all too often left out). Please give her family, her son, her daughter not yet here, a prayer.
And, if you're feeling very strong, her husband wrote something incredibly beautiful on her blog. You'll find the link on the right under Life After.....