(Anyone with child – you might want to skip this post.)

I found out this week that my cousin miscarried her baby. I found out through a cryptic email from my Dad to the family asking everyone to pray for cousin and her husband. I confirmed with Deacon what had happened – but there was more to it.

Twins.

She lost twins.

My cousin and I aren’t close. Truth be told, we probably don’t care for each other that much, although we disregard each other so much that we really have never taken the time to find out if we like each other or not.

She and her husband have been married for 6 years. She’s pretty into her niece and nephews. It had been long enough that I was afraid that her not being a mom wasn’t her choice, so in my way, I was really happy for her when I found out she was pregnant. I watched from afar as she and her husband told my grandma.

She looked so happy.

It’s bothered me all week about whether or not I should say something. And what to say even if I’m in a position to say something. It’s stuck with me all. week. long.

***

I checked my spam folder tonight and there was an email from a high school friend. One of those people I was really close to at one point in time, but we’ve drifted over the years. She has a son I haven’t met.

She emailed me to tell me she’s miscarried. Again. Twice in less than a year. This time at 17 weeks. She’s so hurt and so shocked that it happened again.

Se told me this baby was a boy like the last one. She told me she knows that they are in heaven taking care of each other. Which just broke me.

But after having this close to my heart all week, I had words, I felt like I could at least say something and not leave her with empty silence.

I wrote I was sorry, and I knew sorry wasn’t enough.

I wrote sometimes God is a big ole toad, and I hated that his plan was so opposite hers.

I wrote that those babies matter, and her dreams about them matter very, very much.

I wrote that I’m far away, but if she needs someone to read what she had to say about things, that I would read.

***

I hope it was enough. I hope the words were okay.

(Ten Steps for Creating Breast Health)