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I carried the one.

The estimated 1 in 4 pregnancies that end in loss.

But instead of adding to our family, something was subtracted. Lost. One day I was carrying a baby and the next my womb was empty, my baby gone. One day I was carrying the fourth member of our family, and the next we’d shrunk back to three.

I carried the one.

The 1 in 4 pregnancies that didn’t reach the stage of viability—a baby who was made, but wouldn’t make it.

The 1 in 100 pregnancies that ended in stillbirth—a baby who was born, but had already died.

I carried the one.

The baby who never knew life outside the womb.

RELATED: How Do you Grieve a Life That Never Had a Chance To Live?

The baby referred to as a statistic rather than by name.

The baby no one wanted to talk about.

The baby who lived life unseen.

The baby not celebrated by others.

The baby gone too soon.

RELATED: You Have the Right to Mourn Your Miscarriage

I carried the one.

The one who people are afraid to mention.

The one who makes people uncomfortable.

The one who isn’t counted, because to most people, a baby who isn’t brought home doesn’t seem to count.

I carried the one.

But the size of our family remained the same.

My body multiplied, but the one inside me vanished, resulting in a problem that couldn’t be solved.

Because when you become pregnant you expect to bring a baby home, but when your baby dies instead, nothing makes sense. There is no fixing it. There is no answer.

What was supposed to be an addition to our family never added up.

I carried the one who would be forgotten.

The one who would be erased from everyone’s memory but my own.

I carried the baby who made our family incomplete. The one whose absence goes unnoticed.

RELATED: To the Husband Whose Wife Just Has a Miscarriage

The one who’s left spaces empty that should be filled.

I carried the baby who is no longer part of this world, but will always be a part of mine. The one who didn’t touch your life, but left a mark on mine.

The one who didn’t change the world, but changed me.

I carried the one who existed for just a short time, but who I’ll carry in my heart forever.

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page

 

Jenny Albers

Jenny Albers is a wife, mother, and writer.  She is the author of Courageously Expecting, a book that empathizes with and empowers women who are pregnant after loss. You can find Jenny on her blog, where she writes about pregnancy loss, motherhood, and faith. She never pretends to know it all, but rather seeks to encourage others with real (and not always pretty) stories of the hard, heart, and humorous parts of life. She's a work in progress, and while never all-knowing, she's (by the grace of God) always growing. You can follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

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