Next month, Kyriou would have been born. We named our baby, whose gender was unknown, a Greek word that means "of the Lord" or "belonging to the Lord." Many people didn't know the tragedy we experienced earlier this year. It was during a busy time (really, what time isn't?) and we pretty much kept on trucking. Does that mean we're strong? Not really. It means we're actors. But now, maybe because it's Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, I'm making you aware. As Christians, we believe in the sanctity of human life. We mourn over abortion because babies are being lost. Babies. Not tissue or fetuses or even "pregnancies," but babies. Generations of Christian women before us have often relegated miscarriage to hushed tones behind closed doors. I'm not faulting them, but I know that I am being hypocritical if I do not acknowledge to you that a member of my family has died. Will I answer the question, "How many children do you have?" with, "Four...two here, one in heaven, and one in my womb"? Probably not, although some do, and I think that's great. But in deeper conversation, I'm not afraid to talk about Kyriou because he or she is a real person who lives on even though I haven't met him or her yet. In our case, we are blessed to have another baby on the way who wouldn't have come to be if Kyriou hadn't died. Bittersweet. But, as in all things, God is sovereign. He doesn't always make sense to us, but He is always God, and He is always good.
My friend, Tasha Tollison, has two sweet babies in heaven. She made me think about all of this before I ever experienced it on my own. So, if you have been quiet about your own miscarriage, consider visiting her Facebook page Arrows for Your Quiver. And as she suggests, give your baby a name. It helps. Our boys talk about Kyriou and know they have a sibling they didn't get to meet. It's important to acknowledge the life. I wasn't trying to be secretive before but, well, now you know.
