And tonight I will light a candle. Not just for myself and for our own private pain, but for the 20% of confirmed pregnancies that end in miscarriage -- and for the nearly 27,000 infants lost in childbirth or their first year of life each year.
My candle will shine for myself and the others I know with early losses, late losses, and losses at or after birth. For my friend Margaret who lost her first born after a few weeks of life, my friend Heather who has three angels and two of them second trimester losses, and for the multitude of ladies I have met in the past year who have been through unimagineable experiences and carry with them unbelieveable grief. And for their husbands and partners who are all too often forgotten in the wake of a miscarriage or birth loss, as if they, in not suffering the physical loss, are excused from the emotional pain.
But it will also shine for the lives those people have built after their losses and for the inspiration they bring me every day and with the knowledge that the vast majority of people who endure a loss go on to have beautiful, fat, squishy, snuzzly children. And the knowledge that in all likelihood, one day, I will go on to have another child as well.
In the end our experience has brought depth and breadth to the process of parenting that has been good for me. I have come to realize the true miracles that walk among us, screeching and making messes, and keeping us up at night, and getting us up too early in the morning. I finally am able to understand the horror of losing a pregnancy and the fear that plagues each moment of a new pregnancy. I feel a deep and abiding empathy which wasn't there before. I do not believe that pregnancy or infant loss is a good experience for anyone, but I know in my heart that I've benefitted from a silver lining to this deep, dark cloud.
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