I received a call this evening from someone that I consider my adopted daughter. She miscarried at almost 10 weeks. She has a son, my godson, who will celebrate his first birthday on Saturday. This new baby was a surprise - but not unwanted, and definitely not unloved.
As soon as I heard her crying when Brian handed me the phone, I knew. You see, I've been through this before - not myself - but with a good friend who lost her baby girl at 32 weeks. I was there for the delivery of that precious baby girl - I was her labor coach. I can still recall almost every detail of those three days that I spent at the hospital after receiving that call. It's an experience that I will never - ever - forget. As emotionally devastating as it was, I felt - and still feel - so blessed to have been able to be a part of it and to be able to hold that perfect, beautiful baby in my arms. It's a testament to my friend that she allowed to me see her so emotionally vulnerable and to let me try - in my feeble way - to help her. To be there for her. To share that experience with me. Not just that day, but for the years that followed and the years to come. It's an experience that will stay with me the rest of my life and the bond that developed between my friend and I is unbreakable.
But now, here I am, looking at this other woman - this girl - whom I love so much....and once again, I can't make it better. I can't take away her pain. I have no words that will make it all better. Because quite frankly, there are none. And anything said, with the best intentions of course, are only meaningless letters and quite possibly, would have the opposite effect of being comforting.
You're young, you'll have more babies.
It's was God's plan.
There's nothing you could do.
These words all make sense. But they mean nothing. None of that matters to a mom who just lost the life of a child before it began.
There simply is no comfort.
I know that. And I don't say those words. All I can say is "I'm so sorry honey". And then, God help me - I thank God that I never experienced this myself and I want to squeeze my girls and love them and I think of how lucky I am......is that wrong? To look at how lucky you are in face of someone else's tragedy? I don't know....
I want to make it all better and hold her and whisper words of comfort in her ear and make all the pain go away. But I can't.
And I hate that.