1 in 4 is a lot more than a number.
Or a statistic.
It’s me.
It’s people you know.
It’s probably the woman you pass in the grocery store, who didn’t wave back at your baby in the buggy, because all she could see was the baby she never held. It may be the woman who cut you off in traffic, because she couldn’t see through blurring tears. Maybe it’s a friend who has been distant, and doesn’t know how to tell you that she loved and lost before she ever got to share the news with you.
It’s the woman who didn’t move out of the way when you tried to come through the baby aisle. She couldn’t move, she just stared at racks of onesies as her heart broke all over again.
1 in 4 is a lot more than just a number.
It’s whole group of people.
People who are grieving.
And who will likely grieve the rest of their lives.
Because once you become a grieving mother, it’s not something you can turn off.
The grief stays.
They may carry it better today, than they did in the beginning. But it’s still there.
It’s there when they look at family pictures, and remember who is missing. It’s there on holidays, when you wish you could hang their stocking. It’s there at supper time, when you gather at the table, and there are empty chairs.
And sometimes, the only comfort that can be found is, “But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.” 1 Thessalonians 4:13
Yes, we grieve.
But not as others.
We have hope of being reunited, a WHOLE family one day. We aren’t without hope.
Hope of reunion.
Hope of carrying a baby and getting to hold it and raise it.
Hope because of Jesus.
Hope because Jesus cares about every little life he creates.
Yes, 1 in 4 is a lot more than a statistic
It’s people, with names, it’s babies who mattered.
Yes, we grieve.
But not as others who have no hope.
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