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Horrible, Thanks for Asking

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Almost ten years ago, I delivered the baby boy who would die in my arms just two hours later.  But we had months to prepare for this reality.  His fatal diagnosis had come sixteen weeks before.  So there was no baby shower.  No celebration of the life about to begin.  We didn't have a nursery full of items we’d have to return with a sorrowful explanation.   That hasn’t been the case for my best friend. Two months ago today, I sat by her side as she tearfully and reluctantly pushed her baby girl into this world.   Silence.   Just the sounds of our gasps at the beauty of her perfect face.   There she was.   The miracle baby no one thought would come.  The one we were all so looking forward to meeting.    In absolute perfect form, but already gone.   It was surreal, like there was no way this was actually happening.   Not again.  Not to my Laura.   It was somehow holy, the thick presence of death also brought the sure presence of God.   It was beautiful, because here sh

A Labor of Love

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Last night I attended my ninth Labor of Love Christmas Service.  And I was asked to share the same speech that I shared at the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness "Walk to Remember" back in October. I decided to condense it last night for time's sake, but here it is - in its entirety - for you all to read.  My sincere hope and prayer is that it reaches the person who needs to hear these words, for comfort, to feel understood, and to know they're not alone... Hello, friends.   My name is Meghan Dingle and I lost my baby boy nine years ago.   In this community, some see me as a seasoned veteran, with many years under my belt, but all that really means is that I’ve cried a few more tears than some of you.   That’s right.   I’m still crying nine years later. What does grief feel like when you are this many years out from the day you said both “hello” and “goodbye" to your precious little one? When the world has forgotten, but your heart still reme

It's Been a Minute

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You guys. It's been over a YEAR since I've published anything on this site.  I can't believe it's been so long since I've made a blog post.  Recently I went searching for what I said at Gabe's last Angelversary.  After searching all my social media accounts, and this blog, I couldn't find anything. If my memory is correct, we had a very small gathering last year.  I do see photos of me with my besties.  And I definitely remember the gorgeous floral arrangement left by a sweet friend.  It looked sunny. We were smiling.  But I remember I felt horrible inside.  That I didn't make any "reminder" posts on social media, because I didn't want to "bug" anyone about remembering my Gabriel.  So, in order to not make that mistake again, I present to you:  What was said at Gabriel's Ninth Angelversary. We arrived a few minutes early to see a tent and table set up, and sweet friends already gathered.  The clouds had grown darke

Table for Six

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It's been almost eight years since we had our Gabriel.  Since we lost our Gabriel.  Over the past several years, one child in this family has continued to talk about him the most.  Joel, now nine years old and the only sibling to have the chance to actually meet his brother, doesn't often speak his name these days.  He is, however, very protective of his "Gabey Bear" that he sleeps with every night, and goes to find when he's sad or hurt.  I'm still not sure Ruby, who just turned four, completely understands that she has a brother who is no longer with us.  The only photos she's ever seen of him are obviously baby pictures from the day he was born, but she does usually ask if every random picture she sees of a baby, is our Gabriel.  But our Zoe, almost six, talks about him all the time.  She points out that there is a seat in the back row of our family car, between she and Joel.  "That's where Gabe sits."  And when she asked about the key

Four Little Ones

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What does grief feel like when you are this many years out from the day you said both "hello" and "goodbye" to your precious one?  When the world has forgotten, but your heart still remembers?  The number one thing people tell me about this blog is that it allows them to see what grief looks like through various stages.  So, when Facebook reminded me that it was on THIS day, eight years ago, that we announced we were pregnant with our second child, I made myself sit down and write about my precious Gabriel . Here’s a riddle.  What do playdates and doctor visits have in common?  They both want your childbearing history.  I can’t tell a doctor I only have four kids, because they need to know that I birthed five.  If you’re not a momma, this may not make sense to you - But let me assure you, after talking with a variety of doctors this past year about my dislocated tailbone, they ALL asked for my complete prenatal history.  So for anyone who thinks his memory shou

Remembering them at Christmas

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Last night was the always beautiful, somewhat magical, Labor of Love Christmas service.  It's a night I look forward to every year.  Last year there were two men who shared about their losses, and it moved me so much I blogged about it.  You can read that entry here .  I knew I needed to share this year, but only if when I sat down to write, something poured out of me.  And, of course, that's exactly what happened.  Below is what I shared to the many Infant Loss mommas, daddys, grandparents, nurses, and friends in attendance... This year's ornament -  a Key, to unlock the Love in our Hearts. I just wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude to Labor of Love, and all the people who are now more like family than friends. Being able to gather with a group of people who understand exactly how you feel, who have endured the same tremendous loss, is such a beautiful gift. I lost my son, Gabriel, seven years ago. In many ways it feels like a lifetime ago, but

What I Said, 7th Angelversary Edition

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Yesterday's forecast called for thunderstorms and hail.  I was already a hot mess, and the thought that we'd have to cancel for the first time ever due to weather was heartbreaking.  It rained while I picked up the balloons.  It poured while we gathered everything to bring to the cemetery.  It sprinkled when we arrived and started setting everything up.  Kyle pointed out the gorgeous floral arrangement left by a precious friend, and the tears started.  My mother-in-law arrived with cupcakes that perfectly matched the bouquet (completely not planned) and I was officially bawling.  But then the skies cleared as people joined us around his gravesite.  We were all able to give hugs, catch up, and talk about my special little boy - all while not having to huddle under the tiny canopy we brought as back up.  We quickly sang Happy Birthday so that the kids could enjoy the Main Event - the cupcakes.  As they ate I said the following words, before we all signed your balloons and releas