Tracey Lee Hammer post
"Athazagoraphobia is the term given to the fear of being forgotten. I wonder if there’s a name given to the fear of someone else being forgotten. And if there is such a thing, I’m sure all mothers who have lost babies would be diagnosed with it.
This fear of someone else being forgotten is why so many mothers who have lost their babies – to stillbirth, miscarriage, and other infant deaths - desperately want for other people to remember the child she lost.
Because the memory is all that we have.
I will never forget JJ, my son. I will never forget when the doctor told me that they couldn’t find his heartbeat. I will never forget the feeling of everything around me breaking into little pieces and crumbling. I will never forget my friend who loved me through the entire hospital experience and my mom telling me that it wasn’t my fault; that I didn’t do anything wrong. I will never forget the tears and the strained voice that was mine but not mine that said, “But he’s all I have left of my husband.”
I will never forget the ten little fingers and ten little toes.
I will never forget the eyes that never opened.
I will never forget the cry that I never got to hear.
I will never forget the little lips that were the same lips my husband had.
And because I remember, I want everyone else to remember.
Just like every other mother who has a flesh and blood, living, breathing, eating, sleeping, pooping child and proudly posts pictures (hopefully not the pooping ones) on Facebook, Instagram, and Tumbler – I too want something of my child. As proof that he existed. That he, for a time, was with me and that I loved him then and love him still. But what I really want is for my baby to be right here with me. It’s a want that I will always have and a desire that will never be fulfilled here on earth.
But I have come to realize that for reasons beyond my comprehension, that type of ongoing memory that other moms get to experience is not what God intended for me to have with JJ.
The gift of my child is the reminder of the nearness of heaven.
Because I refuse to believe that my precious son is anywhere other than in the safety of the arms of the God that created him.
We grieve and we mourn. We will always want to be with the child that is no longer within reach. But these children that we remember sing with the angels, dance on streets made of gold, and are enjoying a heavenly existence that we were all created for.
This is how I want to remember JJ and all of the babies that we have lost here on earth." - Tracey Lee Hammer