Saturday, 11 May 2013

Lost children's eve, a pre-mother's day proposal

This proposal was first made on Multiply 4 years ago. At the
time I was in the Netherlands for the funeral of my mother.
Over there the evening of May 4th, the night before they celebrate the end of WWII on May 5th, is for Remembrance.

This inspired the idea for Lost Children's Eve. A moment, the night before the celebration, to recognize the pain of the many women for whom Mother's Day is salt rubbed into a wound. 

A moment, the night before Mothers' Day, to honor the many women who have lost children, for whatever reason.

A moment to honour children lost to death, like Heather's Jonathan, Tint's Ceinwen, Shannon's Abigail, Chandra's Nooveya and my own first-born who only lived a day and never even had a name.

The children who are missing, which must be the worst of all.
The children with whom contact was lost through a bad divorce.

A moment to honour the birth mothers who gave up their children, and the women who couldn't bear children, and yes, even the women who had abortions. Reflections on the 
A word here.

No ceremony can replace a child that was lost, or never was. But seeing one's pain honoured and recognized is a good thing.

So here is a candle for my wonderful sister-in-law and brother. They would have been such good parents but could not have children.
Here is a candle for Sarah, which is what I named my first-born in my heart. Somehow the name felt right, even though  I cannot imagine picking it. 

Here is a candle for the never-to-be siblings of some only children whose parents would have liked to have more, but no one else came.

And finally, a candle for the might-have-been children of my friends who had an abortion, even if it was the right decision to make at the time.

Peace to all.


  1. Indeed. We lost our eldest fifteen years ago now.

  2. It is an interesting proposal. My parents lost their first child, my sister, Jo Ann, at a couple of months as a SIDS death. I had a teenage cousin who lost her first child in a similar way. More recently, a friend who I think of as a daughter, had an 8 pound baby boy, Rogan, at the hospital, die at birth. I still find this appalling. The indications a week before was that the baby was to be a lovely healthy child. As it turned out by the time the baby came his had drowned in it own amniotic fluid. Its lungs were full and they could not get the baby breathing. I guess I have reason to reflect on childhood friends who died about 8 before I was 20. Most by car accidents. All this reminds us that life is a gift and we should cherish it for it may be withdrawn at any time.


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