miscarriage letter

Day 1: A Letter to Your Angel Baby

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month! This week leading up to October 15th, I am partnering with fellow loss mama and writer, Liz Mannegren, to help create discussion and raise awareness about this vitally important topic. 

This Motherhood Story Day 1 Journal Prompt: What would you like to say to your baby? This can be one sentence, several pages, or even a drawing. Take your time. This is your love letter to your baby. Whether you type the letter, handwrite it and seal it in an envelope, do what feels right for you.

My Sweet Heavenly Babies,

Writing words to you is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’ve been procrastinating on this letter. There is so much to say, and I know if I was there with you, I’d have no words at all. I’d just hold you. I miss you both so much, and I think about every day.

Malakai, my sweet boy. You’d be two. I imagine you running around, rolling in dirt, and chasing your big sister around as you play. We were so excited to find out you’d be joining our family. I carried you for 10 weeks. I was in disbelief when we found out you’d be meeting Jesus before meeting us. I crumbled. I didn’t know how to cope. I was in denial about losing you. The denial helped me numb out the pain of not being able to hold you in my arms. Malakai, my love, I held you in the palm of my hand when you were born and whispered to you. It was just you and I. It’s a moment I don’t share often, but it is vividly engrained in my memory. I look forward to more moments together when we meet again. It was an honour to carry you, and to hold for a brief moment.

Keone. You were prayed for and longed for. I remember we had a hard time naming you after being forced to say goodbye. Mommy and Daddy stood heartbroken in the kitchen trying to pick the perfect name when Daddy said, “Keone. Keone is Hawaiian for homeland.” I burst into tears and knew it was you, my little Keone, who had gone before us to the homeland. I carried you for seven weeks earthside. My body was fighting to keep you here, but my heart knew I’d be saying goodbye. The doctors tried to give me hope; that there was still a chance you’d continue to grow in my womb. We said goodbye to you over Easter weekend. You took a piece of me when you left. You and Malakai both did.

My babies, it is an honour to be your Mommy. I wonder what it would be like to hold all four of you in my arms, to watch the four of you play, fight, laugh, and cry. It is still hard to answer the question “how many kid do you have?” Know that if I only say “two,” it doesn’t mean that I have forgotten you. Far from it. You see, on Earth we have things called pain, suffering, and tears. Things you will never have to experience. Sometimes I’ll give the easy answer because not everyone wants to hear about babies that didn’t make it here on Earth. My heart hurts when I have to acknowledge the separation between us, but know that every chance I feel courageous enough, you make it into my conversations. I am proud to be your Mommy.

We think of you both often. There are reminders of you with me always. I’m wanting to get a tattoo in memory of you both. What do you think? Your big sister notices little white butterflies and says you send them down from heaven. She also wants to send balloons up to you. Thank you for reminding her of your grace, and of the beauty that heaven holds. Your baby sister is a crazy, little bean! When she is old enough to understand, I will tell her the stories of how I carried each of you in my womb.

On Earth we also have this thing called time, and it feels like it’ll be a long time before I get to see you and hold you. I know for you both this separation will only feel like a minute. You both give me strength and courage to do things I would’ve never done if I had not been blessed by your presence. You make me the mom I never knew could be: One who advocates for you, one who desires to give you a voice and share your story. I love you both forever. I’ll see you in a minute.

Love always,
Mommy

miscarriage letter

Each day, we will be tackling a new journal prompt about grief and life after loss, and we encourage you to join us! Use the #thismotherhoodstory hashtag to share your journal prompts and help us build meaningful conversations about the reality of pregnancy loss! We don’t want you to miss out on any of these posts, so be sure to follow along on my Facebook and Instagram AND on Liz’s Facebook and Instagram.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *