On the 10th of November I received an email Paul’s wife, Kat, that her friend and someone I’ve grown fond of in the last few years was in the hospital. At full term they’d lost her baby girls heart beat. On the 11th Isla Rose was born, her cord wrapped around her neck and body.
A loss like that is profound. It was before I became a mother and it’s even more heart wrenching now that I see that smiling face each morning and those sleepy eyes each evening. I didn’t think the heart ache I felt for Isla’s mother was something I could ever really top. Then I read Jen’s blog and learned that her twins, had too, left us.
These are the moments I want to scream and cry to God about his infinite unfairness, how someone who’s supposed to be all loving and all kindness could allow these two dear, sweet women to feel this life only to have it wrenched away. To take such an innocent, untested and unheld life. When I see the face of a small child who wants to be loved and held my heart hurts for them. But a child who never felt that nearly breaks me.
It dawns on me as I write this that when our Georgianne, my cousins daughter, passed at just over 2 years of age the pain and anger wasn’t as deep. Is that because Georgie, even for only such a short time, felt love, warmth and comfort? The doctors said such feeling for her was not possible, that she had only the most base life functions. To eat, sleep, breath, and have her heart beat. But there would be moments that her little eyes would see something, really see it and you knew that she knew.
Perhaps that is what hurts most of all. These babies were robbed of that.