May God bless your sis in a very rich way.
Well written, and extremely powerful! I appreciate the analogy to the
Saviour's atonement. It helps me in my time of need to remember he bled
and died for me, and knows and loves me in ways I couldn't possibly
comprehend. May the Lord richly bless you and your sister.
Well written, and extremely powerful! The analogy between childbirth and the
Saviour's suffering and Atonement is a very clear teaching point. May the
Lord richly bless you and your sister.
I have also experienced this pain - many years ago. But, the thing about
emotional pain (really about all bad or great things that happen to us) is that
the memory can stay for a very long time. It's been over 30 years for me.
I had two more children and now 18 grandchildren, but I can remember every
detail as if it were yesterday. I remember a very insensitive hospital staff
(as a nurse I know that in most cases these cases are treated with great
compassion now, but not then). Like any loss, the pain changes and having some
knowledge of the meaning of life, as well as the afterlife, helps immensely. I
don't know how people do it without faith. But, we learn. I learned to be
a more sensitive nurse and to do things they didn't do for me. My prayers for your sister. The aching of empty arms will lessen in time but
your perspective is good. I would advise family members to talk to her as much
as she wants about the experience and this child. There is a tendency to sweep
under the rug what already has a feeling of unreality.
This hit home with me because like the sister in this article, my first child, a
girl, was stillborn 33 years ago this month, the result of many many medical
errors by the hospital and doctor (no, I did not sue). I remember that painful
day and the days that followed all too easily these three decades later, but I
can tell this sister that I, too, had fear and anxiety over "what next"
and "what if." But there WAS joy that followed. Despite being a high
risk patient because of the first outcome, I delivered a healthy baby boy two
years later who was and is the joy of my life. Because of what happened, I
definitely drew closer to the Lord and was so filled with gratitude for the gift
that was my son. Looking back, the lesson for me at the time was to appreciate
the tender mercies and, looking forward, to have faith that everything works out
for our good even when the pain seems never-ceasing. We learn from sorrow what
true joy is. I echo what others have expressed: may the Lord richly bless your
Mercifully, hospitals and personnel are much more sensitive than they were 40+
years ago. The babies were not seen by the parents. There was no thought of a
funeral or even a burial. The babies were "disposed of" by the hospital
and you went home with aching arms. Then people tried never to talk about it,
for fear of making you feel bad. Mothers and fathers should talk about it as
much and as long as they need to. Finally, years and years later, you don't
think about it every day anymore -- but these babies are never forgotten.
I loved reading this article. Thank you for sharing the experience. I
haven't had this particular sorrow, but I've had my "share"
and have learned that asking for the healing/strengthening power of the
Atonement into our lives can bring exquisite peace. We can be healed and learn
concepts that will help us help others. When you let the Lord help you through
it, He helps you learn what you need to know and your soul expands, your heart
becomes - - can't put it into words except through a series of scriptures
1Peter4:12 Then 2Corinthians 4:17, then 2Timothy2:21. Read them in that order
over a few times. Comforting and enlightening.
When I inventoried cemetaries, there was one grave that, according to the
headstone, only had one person buried in it - a man who died in the 90's.
As i gathered information, I found a written record that stated that in that
grave, the man's twin daughters also rested - born in the 1950's, one
of them stillborn and the other died a few days later. I added them to the
computerized grave register. A little later I talked to the widow/mother, and
she told me they weren't allowed to hold or even see their girls. With
tears in her eyes, she said "Thank you for remembering my girls". She
had gone 60 years with this sorrow inside her. She died soon after almost 90
years old. Thank you so much for sharing your sister's story
and insights. I wish this woman could have heard it.