New Permutations of Loss
Right now it seems like there are new permutations of loss daily, often several a day. This morning at church the "ministry minute" highlighted children's church. Children's church is the ministry for children primary from nursery through elementary school.
Most of the time the children's ministry coordinator spoke, there was a dull ache and acknowledgement that Isabella will never be part of the program. When she prayed at the end thanking the Lord for blessing the church with these children, I began to cry. Isabella was and is a blessing. I hate that she will never get to interact with other children, with other families, with other adults.
In my story for my daughter, she would have grown up knowing the six other babies born right around her. We would volunteer in nursery and have to navigate giving other children attention when she would want us to herself. She would smile at people, cry, scream, and we would sometimes have to leave the sanctuary to calm her down in the hallway. She would have to learn how to share, play with others, and take turns.
It's hard to realize that she will never be part of any program of any sort. Over the years we will continue to interact with children born this year, whether through church, my work, or our niece. Whenever we think about it, there will be an ache that Isabella is not part of the group of kids.
A friend who lost her baby four years ago this month to SIDS linked to this article called "The Ghost at the Classroom Door." Her son would have started preschool this year.
Most of the time the children's ministry coordinator spoke, there was a dull ache and acknowledgement that Isabella will never be part of the program. When she prayed at the end thanking the Lord for blessing the church with these children, I began to cry. Isabella was and is a blessing. I hate that she will never get to interact with other children, with other families, with other adults.
In my story for my daughter, she would have grown up knowing the six other babies born right around her. We would volunteer in nursery and have to navigate giving other children attention when she would want us to herself. She would smile at people, cry, scream, and we would sometimes have to leave the sanctuary to calm her down in the hallway. She would have to learn how to share, play with others, and take turns.
It's hard to realize that she will never be part of any program of any sort. Over the years we will continue to interact with children born this year, whether through church, my work, or our niece. Whenever we think about it, there will be an ache that Isabella is not part of the group of kids.
A friend who lost her baby four years ago this month to SIDS linked to this article called "The Ghost at the Classroom Door." Her son would have started preschool this year.
Comments
Four months...
I hold you. I love you. I miss her so much. I miss you as Isabella's mama.