Maggie Doesn’t Live Here

15 10 2010

Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

Today is Maggie’s birthday.

If you don’t know about Maggie, you can read the story of how I had HELLP Syndrome and lost my daughter. Or you can just know that ten years ago I carried a little girl in my womb, but she doesn’t live in our home.

Ten years.


Dear Maggie,

It’s hard to know what to say on your birthday. It’s not a happy day, as birthdays usually are. Instead of buying presents and baking a cake, I mourn the loss of the life you might have led.

I don’t have any idea what 10-year-old girls like. My life is full of trucks and transformers and the color blue. You might love pink, or perhaps you’d eschew such a girly color in favor of something like purple or red.

Would you still play with the giant tub of Barbies I saved from my childhood? Or would you consider yourself too grown up for dolls?

I hope you’d love to read as much as I do. We could sit and read Anne of Green Gables, then talk about whether you’re more of an Anne Shirley or a Diana Barry. (I hope Anne Shirley. I’ve always considered Diana rather bland.) We’d laugh at Anne’s escapades and swoon over Gilbert Blythe.

By now you might be noticing boys (I had my first crush in 3rd grade, so I totally get that), but hopefully you’d still be in the “taunting means I like you” stage. Odds are boys would notice you too, if you followed in mom’s footsteps and got your (completely necessary) first bra this year. You’d be proud but a little mortified by this development.

So many hopes. So many things that might have been, that could have been.

Ten years ago I asked the hospital to cremate your remains. Please understand that emotionally, I couldn’t handle anything else. I took home no pictures, no handprints, no reminders of your existence, yet when I walked in the door of our little trailer, I was greeted by your ultrasound picture.

I cried for hours.

I cried for days.

I cried for months.

I don’t cry as much these days, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. It just means I’ve learned to live without you. It’s a horrible thing to learn.

Tonight I will light a candle, and I will honor your memory. I’ll hug your brothers a little tighter than normal. They don’t know about you, but when they’re older I promise I’ll tell them about their older sister.

You don’t live in our home, but you will always live in my heart.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

— ee cummings

I love you, baby girl.






14 responses

16 10 2010

Thank you for sharing. Thank you so much.

16 10 2010

I have no words. ALOT of tears, but no words. Love you Jen.

16 10 2010

sweetheart, that was beautiful. thank you for sharing. my best friend lost a baby 2 years ago. I don’t think we ever completely heal from that.

and Gilbert Blythe? swoon.

15 10 2010

I keep learning new things about you–things that make me want to cry. Thanks for teaching us compassion and love.

15 10 2010

Very sweet. Touched me to the heart. I recently went through this with my daughter, who had a too-tiny, too-sweet little boy. I never thought about how hard being a grandma could be.

Warm thoughts for you today.

15 10 2010

my prayers are with you.

15 10 2010

Happy Birthday, Maggie. Say hi to your uncle Andrew

15 10 2010
Jennifer aka: @NowSeriouslyKid

Heartbreaking. I feel for you and your pain.

15 10 2010

A beautiful letter for a beautiful baby girl. My thoughts are with you tonight as I light a candle for the children.


15 10 2010

Oh Mama!! I love you lots!!

15 10 2010

Hi … I found this poem the other day… reading this post today made me go and look for it, so I could share it with you. I’m not a mom… so I don’t know the agony that must be yours. I am praying for you. And sending love your way. You will see her again. =o) I am sure of that.

The Cord

We are connected,
My child and I, by
An invisible cord
Not seen by the eye.

It’s not like the cord
That connects us ’til birth
This cord can’t been seen
By any on Earth.

This cord does it’s work
Right from the start.
It binds us together
Attached to my heart.

I know that it’s there
Though no one can see
The invisible cord
From my child to me.

The strength of this cord
Is hard to describe.
It can’t be destroyed
It can’t be denied.

It’s stronger than any cord
Man could create
It withstands the test
Can hold any weight.

And though you are gone,
Though you’re not here with me,
The cord is still there
But no one can see.

It pulls at my heart
I am bruised…I am sore,
But this cord is my lifeline
As never before.

I am thankful that God
Connects us this way
A mother and child
Death can’t take it away!

Author Unknown

15 10 2010

Tears, my friend. Thinking of you today and your sweet Maggie, as I light my candle.

15 10 2010

Aww, this was really sweet. I’m so sorry you had to go through this. My thoughts are with you and your family today.

15 10 2010

Sending lots of love your way today.

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