As
I have mentioned in previous blog posts, I babysit a lot. And by a lot I mean
like five or six days a week. The last couple of weeks however, I haven’t
babysat as much. The kids I watch have had a rough week, their parents even
more so.
The
mom was pregnant with her third child, and was about four months along when she
lost the baby. This wasn’t her first miscarriage, but this one hit her the
hardest. I believe it was because she was so far along when she lost the baby.
I felt terrible babysitting her kids; every time I went over to their house
there was a new bouquet of flowers on the counter, another plate of cookies by
the stove, a stack of sympathy cards by the phone.
Yesterday while
babysitting the kids wanted a snack, so we went to the pantry to pick something
out for them to eat. At the bottom of the pantry were brand new baby bottles,
baby formula, a couple of onesies, and a few other baby necessities. They were
far enough along with the baby to start preparing to have him (or her).
I asked the
oldest child how she felt about losing the baby, and she said she was very sad.
She was hoping for a baby brother, as she already has a sister. Her side of the
story was different than everyone else’s though, as it was through the eyes of
a sibling losing another sibling. When she found out, she had just gotten off
the bus after school and had seen her dad’s car in the driveway. Seeing her dad
home early, she thought she was going to get a surprise; and boy did she ever
get one. Her mom was sitting on the couch crying and her dad was pacing around the
living room. I mean, imagine if you came home with a smile on your face, and
that’s what you saw.
I’ve never lost
a child before (I’m only sixteen), but seeing what they are going through is
tough. They are some of the most amazing people I have ever met, and they didn’t
deserve for this to happen to them. My heart goes out to them as they try to
move past the truly awful thing that happened to them.
(389 words)
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