When I lost my last pregnancy at 14 weeks, I remember walking around in a surreal haze for a long time. The world kept going, the holidays were happening.
I remember walking around the store in this haze, with the girls in the cart and my mind far away. I wandered into the plant section to find something in bloom, flowers for my child. There wasn't much, but I chose a white Thanksgiving Cactus, hoping it would bloom again next year.
I am so glad I did.
That first year, as I counted the weeks to finish my phantom pregnancy, as I wept in the middle of the day, as I scurried away from babies, I tended to my cactus. When fall came again, and the smell of the house reminded me of the child not in my womb, it ached so. And I was so very sad for the child that no one else seemed to remember. And, as if to tell me, "Don't despair, I remember," my cactus burst forth in new blooms.
Every year, it seems a little bit harder to talk about, as he becomes more distant. We celebrate his name day with much joy, and it seems to wash away the sadness. This year we have a new little one growing and kicking. I am filled with joyful anticipation... but also reminded of someone missing.
To all of those grieving during these holidays, don't despair! Christ remembers, and offers hope of blooms in the darkness.
With the saints give rest, O Christ, to the soul of Thy servant where sickness and sorrow are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting .