From author Jenny Foster
What are we to do with the unborn? Can a baby be lost who was never born? How do we lose an infant who was never seen or held? How do we comfort parents who come home from the hospital with empty arms? There was a point in my grief when the expression “lost a baby” made me angry. I didn’t lose my baby. It was more accurate to say that my baby was taken—torn from me in a way that was too difficult to comprehend for many years.
But I had to see it, to see what was left of him. He was mine. He was not meant for medical waste. I familiarized myself with the little pile of forgotten bones. I pressed my hand against the monitor over the cause of my ongoing pain and unresolved grief, now lit up in silence before me without any words needed from a medical provider.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, little one.”
The tears ran freely down my face, and I felt utterly alone in the world.
“God forgive me.”