To Caitlin

 In 1991, our first grandchild was stillborn. I wrote this poem. In October 2023, I found the old writing notebook in which I'd written the remembrance. 

To Caitlin

 

Did our love for you begin at the moment you emerged from your mother's body? No. Birth is not the beginning of life, and birth is not the beginning of love. A baby is in the truest sense made-up of love not only the love of parents but also the love of God and the family support system he ordained. We knew just before your birth that your life had ended and that we would have no opportunity to know you in this life.

As we entered the birthing room, we saw your mother holding your tiny little body so lovingly and your daddy, our son, looking at you with such love and tragedy in his eyes. You looked so natural and right with your parents whose love had created you. The love you shared as a family were so clear.

At that moment we realized that we, too, had long loved you. We held you, tiny and still, in our arms just long enough to say hello and goodbye. We never saw you breathe, never heard you cry, never saw your eyes. We grieved for the loss of your fugture - that you would never come to visit grandmother and granddaddy, never ride a merry-o-round, never see a Christmas tree, never…

The love, the loss, the loneliness was immeasurable. Only God can know how much you are loved. Even though you lived your brief little life hidden away inside your mother, you knew that we loved you.

 

1991