Sometimes when people ask how many kids I have, there is a moment when my mind gets tripped up. I know the answer to the question is three. I have three kids. But the answer is also five kids. In addition to our three young children, my husband and I also had two unborn babies who were miscarried.
Both babies died during early pregnancy, so we never saw them or held them. There is such a strange disconnect for me. Here I am, able to know three of my kids. Each of my living children has a unique scent, and personality, and way of interacting with the world. I see them, touch them. Meanwhile, I have no concept of who the two miscarried children were. I don’t know what they looked like or even what gender they were. Sometimes I almost forget they existed.
But one thing I know in my heart is that those two babies were as real as my other kids. They had real bodies and real souls. The motherly love I have for them is real. Even in the throes of grief of losing our babies, some part of me rejoices in gratitude for the gift of each child to love.
I can rejoice because I believe in eternity, an existence where souls will endure beyond our current earthly bodies. And because of my two unborn children, I think about eternity a lot. I envision a day in eternity when we’ll be reunited with those children. There will be tears of joy and giddy laughter and maybe a deep, familiar sense of, “Hey, I know you! Of course this is who you are. I loved you before I even met you.” And on that day there will be an embrace of pure love that extends into eternity.
Both babies died during early pregnancy, so we never saw them or held them. There is such a strange disconnect for me. Here I am, able to know three of my kids. Each of my living children has a unique scent, and personality, and way of interacting with the world. I see them, touch them. Meanwhile, I have no concept of who the two miscarried children were. I don’t know what they looked like or even what gender they were. Sometimes I almost forget they existed.
But one thing I know in my heart is that those two babies were as real as my other kids. They had real bodies and real souls. The motherly love I have for them is real. Even in the throes of grief of losing our babies, some part of me rejoices in gratitude for the gift of each child to love.
I can rejoice because I believe in eternity, an existence where souls will endure beyond our current earthly bodies. And because of my two unborn children, I think about eternity a lot. I envision a day in eternity when we’ll be reunited with those children. There will be tears of joy and giddy laughter and maybe a deep, familiar sense of, “Hey, I know you! Of course this is who you are. I loved you before I even met you.” And on that day there will be an embrace of pure love that extends into eternity.
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