If you know me in real life and this is the first you’ve heard of this–please understand that it isn’t personal. We haven’t been keeping it a secret, but we haven’t made any announcements either.

In November we lost a baby. I miscarried at about 8 weeks pregnant.

Such an early loss might sound insignificant. I know people who have suffered far more heartbreaking losses. But let me tell you–even this has been pretty heartbreaking.

No one knew about our baby until he or she had died. I was pretty sure that I was pregnant, but I did not find out conclusively until I was miscarrying. My hormone levels finally rose high enough to be detectible on a home test when the pregnancy began to end.

My baby was never celebrated during his/her short life. That has been one of the most challenging pieces for me. Even as the parents we didn’t rejoice in the blessing until we were also mourning the loss. But, I remind myself that our baby is in heaven celebrating the One who holds all of our lives in His hands.

I know that losing a pregnancy further along would be more difficult. There would be more hopes shattered, more tiny clothes to put away, more painful comments from those who didn’t know what happened. I don’t know if I can explain why, but I long for some of those things.

I wish I had momentos from announcing our pregnancy, or an ultrasound photo of our little cutie. I wish I knew his or her gender, or felt those wonderful kicks. Yes, it would make this all the more painful. I just ache for some good memories. Mine are all sorrowful. A pregnancy test that sparked tears of sorrow instead of tears of joy. Memories of the intense physical pain of the miscarriage, and the exhaustion of anemia that followed. The pregnancy symptoms that continued to increase for weeks following the miscarriage, and served as painful reminders of our loss.

As my due date approaches, the what-ifs flood my mind. They crowd in and try to suffocate the truth. God has a good plan for me, for my husband, and for all of our children. I don’t understand it. I probably never will. But, He is still good, and He still loves us.

My biggest fear is that my baby–who nobody ever knew–will be forgotten. So let me tell you about him or her.

Our child was conceived sometime in September. A surprise blessing from the Lord. A gift, however short her life was.

Many grieving parents remember their children by what month they were conceived, or what month they died, or what month they were due. I remember mine by what month (s)he was alive. October. My baby was alive for the whole month of October. Hence, the name October Baby.

The baby was due June 26. While I know that my recent health problems would have been far more serious and challenging if I were pregnant–I still want to be. I want to be waddling around and anticipating the birth of my child. Frantically preparing, cranking the air conditioning while my family dons sweatshirts.

Instead, I can only remember. So, remember I will. Thank you for letting me share.

I will leave you with some beautiful words from Watermark’s song Glory Baby.

Glory baby, you slipped away as fast as we could say baby, baby
You were growing, what happened, dear?
You disappeared on us, baby, baby

Heaven will hold you before we do
Heaven will keep you safe until we’re home with you
Until we’re home with you

We miss you every day, miss you in every way
But I know there’s a day when we will hold you, we will hold you
And you’ll kiss our tears away, when we’re home to stay
We can’t wait for that day when we will see you, we will see you

I can’t imagine heaven’s lullabies
And what they must sound like
But I will rest in knowing
Heaven is your home
And it’s all you’ll ever know
All you’ll ever know