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Track Five: The Letter

“Baby, Darling, I had so many plans"

Album: "For My Peace" | Track Five: Pink Lines | SelahLuke.com


Losing a child in any form is devastating. The grief is on a deeper level, the loss permeates every moment, and you’re overwhelmed by the flood of guilt in wondering if you could have done something – anything – differently. Miscarriage is all of that, on a level that shatters your heart in the


“Child of mine, how's heaven? ... Oh how I long to meet you, standing in your empty room"

In our case, we couldn’t get pregnant easily due to medical conditions on my part. So every time there were two pink lines on the test, we got SO excited... just to be devastated a few short weeks later. I used to try to count us lucky that we never got far enough to feel our child kick in my belly, but I’ve finally stopped denying my feelings and looking for the silver lining. Grief needs to be felt. Loss is loss.


Now for us, after 8 years of marriage and 2 full years of fertility treatments and all the side effects and emotions that come with them, I have to face reality. It may not ever happen.


It’s hard to keep perspective when you’re seeing life through broken lens.

It’s hard to stay positive and love on other children when your heart aches.

It’s hard to remain calm in any way when other parents don’t treasure the gifts they were given.

It’s hard to watch my husband, who has always wanted to be a father, not allow himself to fully bond with other children in our family because the pain is too much to bear.

It’s hard to celebrate with my younger sister when she gives birth to her child years later and I am still mourning my own.


“Why? God, Why? I don't think I'm wrong for asking. My heart's shattered in my hand. I never got to hold him, never can I kiss her face..."

I feel like I need to put a disclaimer on this, and say that I truly do celebrate with others when they get their miracle. (because I have come to believe that every life is truly a miraculous thing.) It’s true! I am SO happy for them and love to dote on the little ones... but the thought never leaves fully. It sneaks up and takes me down for a bit. Thankfully, in less overpowering ways than it used to.


Healing is possible, but mostly in as the sharpness fades a bit. For anyone else struggling with infertility and/or infant loss, please know that you never have to force yourself to forget or “move on”, and that life can never be replaced. Attempting to do so is pointless, in my opinion. Life carries on with or without us, and has a way of bringing back joy if you let it. Hope can come in small doses and grow into a river.


But if I’m honest... maybe it's because Mother's Day is this week, I don't know. Today, I’m out of hope. Tomorrow, I’ll try to get up again.


“Confused, angry, broken, done...as two pink lines return to one."

P.S. Please hug your friends who have suffered in this way. Statistically, you have at least one. This holiday is rough for us, and all the love you can give means the world.



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