The Mourning and the Joy

I was a child in a family affected by baby loss. I am what is often referred to these days as a “rainbow”. My brother Jacob wasn’t three months old when he died. I don’t remember not knowing about him, and part of that knowing has always been that if Jacob had lived, I wouldn’t have been born. My younger brother died through medical error when I was three, several months before he was ready to be born. I remember my mother waking me up in the night, telling me that she was going to hospital because of the baby. I remember her coming home with empty arms, and I asked, “Where’s the baby?” and she told me the baby had died, and we both cried. In 1980 there was even less support for bereaved parents than there is now.

Parenting doesn’t look at all the way I expected it to. I knew it would be the hardest job I ever had, but I had no idea that, at least so far, I would only get to meet one of my children. I didn’t imagine that parenting would be coloured and affected by my physical illness, grief, anxiety, depression and PTSD. Of course K has been affected by this. She is very thoughtful and caring in general, and specifically protective of me. Sometimes this makes me feel guilty, because parental guilt is like that. But the truth is that just as I am not the person I would be if I had grown up as the middle one of three children, so K will never be the person she would have been if she had not lost six younger siblings by the time she was two and a half.

To most people, I am the mother of one child. But I have conceived seven children, it’s just that I don’t have the privilege of living with six of them. But they were created out of love. We were overjoyed when we found out about them and devastated by their loss. The loss of a baby is the loss of all their expected tomorrows. But their lives can still make a difference to other people, just as Jacob’s life still makes a difference, just as my un-named Little Brother’s life still makes a difference.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. This is time when many people, Christian and non- Christian, give something up. Jesus spent forty days in the desert and the Devil tempted him to use his power for his own glory. For Christians, Lent was a time of fasting for centuries. The origin of Pancake Day is to use up the milk and eggs before Lent. Fasting is intended to help people to focus on God, and in more recent years there has been a recognition amongst Christians that fasting is not the only way to achieve this. And so some people, instead of fasting, have started to do something extra every day in Lent, to help them draw nearer to God.

Last year, on my personal Facebook page, I decided to write down something I was thankful for every day. I did this to focus on the joy instead of the mourning. After almost three years of grief related depression I wanted to remind myself how much there is in my life that is good.  I didn’t tell anyone that it was for Lent, but I did keep going for the whole time. It was immensely rewarding and I found it very helpful. After the end of Lent I plummeted into deep depression, as I do from time to time. This time I posted about it on Facebook. I was stunned by the number of people who commented on that post and via private message, saying that they were helped by my thankfulness posts. So I kept posting my thankfulness, not with any sense of discipline this time but just as it occurred to me. The late summer and autumn last year were difficult for me and plagued with physical illness, so in November and December I made a new formal commitment to find something to be thankful for every day. Once again I was bowled over by how many people have contacted me to say that my thankfulness has made a difference to them. And so this year, I have challenged myself to post something I am thankful for every day. It doesn’t always work! Sometimes I post in the morning for the previous day. I’ve been mired in depression again, and so this weekend I did one thankfulness post for both days. But it’s making a difference to me and to other people as well.

It’s four years this month since we conceived Gracie Wren. Four years since we were so happy and so full of optimism for the future. I do not believe that death is ever part of God’s plan, but I also believe that He can redeem anything. I believe I am a better version of myself than I was four years ago, and that is part of my angel babies’ legacy. And it’s Lent again. Since I’m committed to daily thankfulness for a whole year, I can’t use that as a way to draw closer to God this Lent. So here is my solution: this Lent I will undertake at least forty deliberate acts of kindness in memory of my angels. It won’t be one a day and it might be more than forty, but it won’t be less.

If you feel inspired by what I have written to undertake your own act of kindness or thankfulness, will you please comment here or on the Joy in the Mourning Facebook page? Thank you.