sharing your stories and remembering your children
By: Chelsea Luedecking
For the last 31 years, October 15th has been an ordinary day. The older I get, the more I appreciate these ordinary days - but not this year. October 15 represents pregnancy and infant loss day. This year marks the first year I knew this day even existed because it’s the first year since we lost you and became members of the club no one wants to be a part of.
We should be putting the finishing touches on our baby’s nursery and preparing our sons for their new sibling - instead the only thing I have left of you is a small diamond I wear on my neck next to two others that symbolize your brothers. As simple as it is, it brings me overwhelming comfort. You are with me wherever I go, and today is the day I finally have the courage to share you with the world.
Our society has no clue how to deal with miscarriage. It makes people uncomfortable and one way to avoid this is to just not talk about it. By ignoring it, it’s almost as if I’m pretending you never existed - but my sweet love, you were loved from the very moment you were created. I’m sorry I can’t find the strength to share more about you - to wonder who you would have been, if you’d share the same bright blue eyes as your brothers; your dads loving demeanor or my empathetic heart. You deserved more than I was able to give you - but you will always be a part of our story.
For me, losing you has caused so much guilt and shame. Everything runs through my head. My baths were too hot. I drank too much kombucha. I was too stressed. I worked too hard and slept too little. I should have known. How did I not know what was happening to my body? I’m so sorry, my love. We all know none of it would have made a difference, but then the doubt sets in. Maybe. Maybe not - but maybe. The guilt for my boys. I’m sorry I’ve been detached as your mama lately. I’m hurting so much for reasons you’re too young to understand. I’m trying my best but I know it’s not good enough. I’m sorry for the sibling you’ll never know, but I can promise you, you’ll meet one day.
Our society has no clue how to deal with miscarriage. It makes people uncomfortable and one way to avoid this is to just not talk about it. By ignoring it, it’s almost as if I’m pretending you never existed - but my sweet love, you were loved from the very moment you were created.
The guilt for my husband. I’m sorry for falling apart. For the nights I need to cry and be alone. I know you’re experiencing this loss with me, but it feels more raw for me. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you how I need you there for me, it’s not fair. None of this is fair, but it’s our new reality.
I believe with my WHOLE heart that God makes no mistakes. Your life had a purpose and happened for a reason. Although I don’t know that reason yet, I pray every.single.day that God exposes his truth for your life to me so I can start to understand why. Your life has completely changed my perspective. I find joy in small moments, I love your brothers harder, I cherish each day, I worry less, I admire your dad more, I care less about what others think of me, and I trust God on a deeper level. Your precious, short life has forever changed me.
I hope your story brings comfort to others. That suffering mamas read about you and feel emboldened to grieve aloud if they need to. Through these reflections, maybe they will see how much I love and value them and their miscarried children. Regardless, Little One, of how your story affects others, I hold on to one thing above all else: you will always be my baby, and I will always be your mama.
Chelsea Luedecking is a Hillsdale native and Hillsdale College graduate. She is currently on a stay at home mom sabbatical from her work as a school counselor.
Chelsea and her husband, Michael, and live in Jackson, MI. They have two beautiful boys, Maxwell (6) and Hendrix (3) with their expected rainbow due this Christmas!