After Kathryn Anne was born, I decided that with the next baby we would wait until it was born to find out the gender. Right away when we told the kids we were pregnant they wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, and I told them that that was going to be a mystery until the baby was born. So Heather started referring to the baby as "Mystery Baby." The kids began saying things like "How old will I be when Mystery Baby is born?" or "Which room will Mystery Baby sleep in?" or "Where will we put Mystery Baby's car seat in the car?"
I took a short trip with the kids to visit my parents in Montana this month and started miscarrying on the drive home. Spent all of the next day in the ER. Spent the next three days laying around cramping and bleeding and crying. It's all over now and somehow "Mystery Baby" seems an appropriate name for the short life that entered our family and our hearts and is now gone.
Interestingly, I come away from this loss with an increased joy and sense of wonderment at the miracle that is life. I am in awe of the process, and so much more in love with the children who made it all the way into my arms. I find myself watching them play, eat, interact, talk to themselves, try something new, look for my approval and I am keenly aware that life is miraculous and wonderful and fragile. And so, so precious. Thank you for that, Mystery Baby.
