Sadly, we now have four candles to light in remembrance of our lost little ones. On top of this bookcase, snug in the corner of our dining room, are the candles, one for each of our lost babies. There is also a figurine of a mother and father holding a baby; it is for L, given to us the day she was born. So something for each of our children on what has become our family altar of sorts. The picture is of hubby and I, in the hospital, holding Micah. Along the top of the frame it reads "Those we have held in our arms a little while we hold in our hearts forever" and at the bottom is his name and birth/death date. Behind the frame are some of the flowers we were given after his death, carefully dried and lovingly arranged.
Lighting candles in honor of my lost babies has been a ritual for me for years. The candle on the left is the one we bought in honor of Andrew, the baby we lost in our first pregnancy that ended in miscarriage. It has been lit so many times that the wick refuses to catch flame anymore and I fill it with tea lights now. Buying a new candle just seems wrong somehow.
And so I light the same candles, over and over, and remember my babies. I say their names, pray for their souls, pray for our family, miss my missing children and shed tears over the lost hopes and dreams we had for them.
This morning was a rough one. There were lots of tears and the sorrow was oppressively heavy. So I lit candles. Candles for my babies and candles for your babies. And I made a new altar, one for Micah and all your babies, all the babies I've learned of and prayed for and all the mamas that without Micah's death I wouldn't have had the pleasure of getting to know. This altar isn't perfect yet, I had to make do with the things I could scrounge up around the house, but it is lovely in my sight today and healing to my heart, even without the perfect trappings I would like to have for it.
That's my boy there in the picture frame, my favorite picture of him. His urn is behind the frame and a sweet gift box sits next to it, filled with tiny shells I picked out for him while on our trip to the beach a few days after he died.
I am so honored to have met you all, even under the incredibly hard circumstances that have brought us together. The support and kindness and love you have shown me through your comments and emails have often been what pulls me back from the darkness. I want you all to know that you and your babies are always in my prayers. And now, each day, I will pull fresh names from that wooden heart, light four candles aflame, and pray for you and for them.