By Marc

We live near the Parramatta River in Sydney at the time. I find a little wharf where we can reflect and hold a memorial. We gather photos — from when we got together, from our wedding, from the pregnancy test. We bring tulips, our favourite flowers.

I read perhaps the hardest words in the Bible, spoken by a man who lost all his children: “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (‭‭Job‬ ‭1‬:‭21‬ NIV). 

We place the basket on the water with some flowers. The water is like glass. The tide is gently receding. We set the photos on the water — they float and slowly fan out. The basket drifts away from us and gently sinks until it disappears.

On another day, there’s a local initiative to plant trees. We plant several in remembrance of this child.

In time, a child is born. But if we had not lost one to miscarriage, we would not have had them. And so it is with two others — each a Rainbow Baby — born after a pregnancy loss.

Shared with permission