I have no idea how many candles have been lit tonight because of Katie. I don’t think there is a way to know, but I do know it’s more than I thought. There are all of those from the comment section in my last post Light it up, but the word of mouth numbers I can’t count. Everyone (well nearly) is on Facebook these days, and most people I know had some sort of message about lighting a candle tonight. Some from people I didn’t expect, many from people who have never lost a baby. And from the comments of friends posts were friends of theirs who vowed to light candles as well. How lovely.
I think the most rewarding consequence of having a baby who died, is the community I have of friends who have shared their losses with me. A sadness shared makes for a lighter heart, I think. I know of three more people who share my sadness now because of my Facebook posts about October being baby loss awareness month. I can’t tell you how honored I am to hold your children in my heart with Katie.
Today could have been a terrible day, full of tears, instead it was beautiful, I felt supported and truly loved. Today was beautiful.
My good friend Tricia, who’s Sons Ryan and Joshua also died the same year as Katie, wrote this to me tonight
Remembering Katie with you tonight and although I wish we had no reason to know one another and that our sweet angels were here with us I am so thankful she brought you into my life. ((Hugs))
And I feel exactly the same . The people I know because of Katie are special indeed. They held me up when there was no strength left for me to hold myself up. They wiped away tears, gave me a safe place to laugh again, and brought me back from a place where no light shined. They are the women of AAHH/OATH, Parent Care and those who share their stories with me. Because of her I have friendships of great meaning and substance. Because of her I am more compassionate to those who grieve. Because of her I love more deeply. Thank you Katie.
I carried you in hope,
the long nine months of my term,
remembered that close hour when we made you,
often felt you kick and move
as slowly you grew within me,
wondered what you would look like
when your wet head emerged,
girl or boy, and at what glad moment
I should hear your birth cry,
and I welcoming you
with all you needed of warmth and food;
we had a home waiting for you.
After my strong labourings,
sweat cooled on my limbs,
my small cries merging with the summer air,
you came. You did not cry.
You did not breathe.
We had not expected this;
it seems your birth had no meaning,
Or had you rejected us?
They will say that you did not live,
register you as stillborn.
but you lived for me all that time
in the dark chamber of my womb,
and when I think of you now,
perfect in your little death,
I know that for me you are born still;
I shall carry you with me forever,
my child, you were always mine,
you are mine now.
Death and life are the same mysteries