In early August of last year, Caleb and I were overjoyed to learn that a tiny little son or daughter of our very own was growing inside me. We immediately began addressing him or her as “Freddie,” though neither of us remembers exactly why or how. We were some of the most excited parents we’d ever met.
In September, just a few short weeks after we announced our delight to the rest of the world, we discovered that our little Freddie had opened her eyes for the first time to see Jesus’ face, instead of one of ours. (I say “her” because I just feel it was a baby girl, not because we actually know for sure.)
Though it was a devastating loss, we found solace in knowing that He is caring for her better than we could have here on earth, until we get to join them in Heaven.
There are kind, benevolent folks here in Lancaster, Pennsylvania who, softened by the grief of infant losses of their own, built a memorial garden as a ministry for families who’ve had to say goodbye to children before they really got to live. (Check out their Facebook page for more information.)
Today we attended the Lancaster Garden of Hope’s annual memorial service, which included special music, a reading of the babies’ names who have gone on before us, and releasing of balloons in their memory.
Pregnancy loss is a complicated sorrow, one that is hard to understand unless you’ve experienced it personally. Caleb and I have been blessed to have been surrounded by compassionate, caring friends and family who have made the journey to healing much less arduous.
This afternoon’s service was a special time for us to remember the little one who made us parents, and to reflect on how her presence changed our lives forever, even though she’s not in our arms right now.