Regardless of Age or Stage

On Sunday morning Danith visited Daffy and Kiri at the river without me. I didn’t know about the trip until he texted me with pictures.

Danith and I experienced our first loss about eight years ago. Multiple ultrasounds were telling us that the prognosis of the pregnancy was not promising. The night before the final ultrasound, I lit the candles my friend gave me, and I prayed. I fervently prayed to God for a miracle. My body shook as I cried and prayed for this baby that my husband and I wanted. Danith found me in the room and sat on the floor with me, the candles before us on the table. I asked if he would pray with me. Surprisingly, he kept his eyes closed, while I continued to ask God for help.

The next morning our doctor told us with absolute positivity that, at about seven weeks along, we had no baby. There was no fetal pole, even after they had already given it ample time to form. On our drive home, unbelievably, I was at peace. I felt that we had done all that we could for this baby — we had prayed to God. Our baby at that time was just not meant to be. Danith, however, was solemn. For the next few weeks and even once in a while in the years that followed, he spoke about that baby.

I changed the subject whenever Danith brought up the first miscarriage. It puzzled me that our embryo that couldn’t survive beyond seven weeks impacted him more strongly than it impacted me. He was a person of science — he must have understood that cells often stop dividing and multiplying, and break down. The body malfunctions, and life ends (frankly, the earlier, the better, the less suffering). This happens on a regular basis.

I could not share in his grief until many years later, when Daffy and Kiri entered our lives to explain that life — no matter the age or stage — matters. In addition to the miscarriage from eight years ago and the passings of Daffy and Kiri, we experienced another loss. Similarly, at around seven weeks, our embryo that had come just a few months before Daffy, lost its heartbeat. A nurse later told me that the embryo was a “healthy male.” To this day, I remember this little boy and his possibilities.

Along with the pictures he texted me that Sunday, Danith texted me with instructions. I was to look at the upper right corner of the second photo, where the sun was fighting through the clouds. Later in person, Danith explained that the boardwalk was difficult to maneuver because of the thick fog and the river that had risen very high from the melting snow, muddying the area and especially our special spot. Even his shoes and pants were dirtied by the flood. The entire area had been completely foggy, he said, but then the light suddenly emerged.

January 30, 2017