Our Baby

At 10 weeks, our baby should have had ears, elbows, toes, and a beating heart. I don’t know if our baby had any, all, or none of those, but something must have been wrong because we lost our littlest child a month ago today. I wish I could have heard her beating heart (Ryan and I both thought it was a girl). I wish I could have known whether I lost a son or daughter. But I never will.

I miss things that were months away from happening: birthing her, seeing his or her face for the first time, nursing her, introducing Riley to her little brother or sister, cuddling on the bed with Ryan and our two kids and feeling amazed at the little family God created for us. And now part of that family will always be missing.

Even though I trust that there is reason behind miscarriage, I will forever miss meeting one of my children. When someone asks, “How many kids do you have?,” I will say one and think two. And I’m sure a moment of hesitation and sadness will flash across my face, and if they see it they won’t understand. But I will, for the umpteenth time remember the child I never got to meet and feel the scar that was left when my baby died.