A Different Kind of Love Story

"How could one person, not very big, leave an emptiness that was galaxy-wide?"
{Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy}

Dear Jordan,

Seven days ago I was walking around, alone, in Target... something that rarely happens. I passed the baby section and felt it again, that pang of loss. That deep ache of missing you. I have had the gift of giving birth to two healthy babies, your sisters. I have had the experience, twice, of caring for a newborn, of nursing and sleep deprivation, and I have raised them past infancy, past toddlerhood, past the preschool years. Your sisters are now six and nine. I don't take that gift for granted. But it doesn't erase the pain of what I missed out on with you. You are unique and I lost you.

There's just one you.

Which is why the tag on a small soft elephant designed for babies slays me. The tag that says Just One You. Carter's is so right. Each baby is a precious, irreplaceable individual. That's why the part of my heart that belongs to you will always be empty. Because you aren't here to fill it.

You are forever a baby in my mind. I cannot imagine you as a school-aged child. You are only what you ever were -- a tiny baby unblemished by the hardness of life. You are only love.

To talk about you is to validate you as real. You were not a dream or a nightmare. Seven years down this road, when I mention you, people may assume I have not healed. This is untrue. I write about you to honor you as my child, and to record you as part of my legacy. I talk about you to untangle the ethereal thoughts and emotions, to sort what can't always be sorted.

I speak of you to give myself the gift of loving you out loud.

Ours is a different kind of love story.


  1. I have a similar love story and I still talk to him, carry him in my heart and in my life stories. I'm sorry for your pain, the ache that is always there. I try to be grateful for the time we did share but I am selfish and want more. I hope you get through the next few days being carried on wings of love.

  2. Beautifully written. I lost my first born when she was 2 1/2 years old. Even though I have two more beautiful children, they will never take her place. Thanks for sharing!

  3. Quite contrary - you are as whole as can be. Beautiful. Thank you.

  4. I am sorry for your loss. I found you through Twitter. I just lost my baby this week and it already feels like it was all a dream.

  5. I am very sorry, Jenn. I'm sorry for the loss to your community, including me; for the loss for your family; and most of all, for the loss to you. Thank you for continuing to write. Love you!

  6. Samantha, I am so deeply sorry. <3

  7. This is really an emotional saga. It almost made my eyes swelled up. I am sorry for you. As I am also away from my child, I can feel and understand your pain. It's so nice you are writing to honor your child. God may bless you. Thanks. Take care


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