I know it may seem strange to hear that coming from someone who lost their baby, but I do consider myself lucky.
Soon after Griffin was born, I will guiltily admit that one of my first thoughts was, “why couldn’t I have had a miscarriage – it would have been so much easier to handle if I had of never carried him this long and grown to love him so much”.
But as much as there are some things about this that are probably harder (having to physically release Griffin from my arms after I saw him and fell in love with everything about him being the biggest one), I’ve come to see how so much of it can be counted blessing instead.
I got 40 weeks with him. And if time doesn’t matter as much as the impact we leave, he lived a great life. I am so glad I got extra time with him, even if it made the loss harder because my love grew with each day that passed.
I’m also so thankful for all of the pictures we have of him, and all of the other little mementos we have. My heart aches for those mourning babies they have never met, who may only have a positive pregnancy test to prove the heart that beat within them.
A life short-lived is not any less meaningful, but would soon be forgotten if those who witnessed it didn’t share the story.
*We’re going away camping this Thanksgiving weekend, and as much as I knew we were camping and knew I was blogging for 31 days straight, I forgot I couldn’t do both at once. So I’ll catch up where I left off when I get back on Monday. Sorry!*