Category: Life

This post isn’t about photography. But it is important.

Today, May 5th, is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. A day set aside for women who have lost a child.

I lost a baby to miscarriage last September, so this is my first Bereaved Mother’s Day. I honestly can say that before this year, I didn’t even know about it. I didn’t need it. It didn’t affect me. Ignorance is bliss.

But this year, I am four short days away from what would have been my due date with my third child. A child whose gender I will never know. Whose face I will never see. Whose voice I will never hear. Whose tiny toes I will never get to kiss. Whose only photo I will ever be able to share is this one:

We named our sweet baby Jorah, which means early rain. In the early months of my pregnancy, we lost the baby. There was no specific reason or cause. But just like that, our baby, and all of the hopes and dreams we had for that baby and our lives with the baby, were just gone. And I’m still struggling. As I approach what would have been my due date, I cannot help but think of the huge belly I should have. Of the discomfort I would give anything to be feeling from swollen feet and a sore back and braxton hicks contractions. Of the nervousness for an upcoming labor and delivery and the excitement at the thought of meeting my new child for the first time. And it hurts. This journey is not an easy one. The loss of my baby will be with me for the rest of my life. I will always think about how old Jorah should be. I will always wonder who s/he would have been. How s/he would have looked. How s/he would have gotten along with our two older sons. And I will always mourn not only the loss of my baby, who I loved completely from the moment the test showed two pink lines, but also the missed opportunities, the moments and memories that were taken from us. Like celebrating Mother’s Day together.

So this year, and every year, I will remember my Jorah and the joy that his/her existence and impending arrival brought to us and our family and friends.

But Bereaved Mother’s Day isn’t just for me. It is for all the mothers – too many mothers – who have lost children. And today, on this day set aside for us, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are not alone in your grief. In your anger. In your brokenness. And I want you to know that your child matters. Your pain matters. Your love matters. And I hope that somewhere in the midst of the sadness, you can remember the joy that your child brought to you as well, even if it was for much too short a time.

Much love to all of the mothers grieving for their children taken too soon,

Kristen