By way of introduction, I am a father of three.  In this life, you would likely only have the chance to meet two of those children.

My wife’s first pregnancy ended in miscarriage.  Among the most deafening sounds in world must be the disappearance of a heartbeat.  Our hollow hopes were soon filled with the conception and healthy development of our second child, Amelia, now almost a year old.  And, still happier, we expect another child in November.

It is a very challenging experience to endure a miscarriage.  Any hope can miscarry, so I invite you to explore that grief if you are so moved.  Many, I’m sure, can relate to an extraordinary joy and expectation, and to the lingering trepidation as you journey toward your goal, only to have that trepidation justified as the prize, the shining jewel of your hopes, is irreversibly taken away.  There is a particularly heart-breaking update I made to our “baby blog” during that first pregnancy, where I mention that our baby’s heart rate was lower than expected, and the baby’s body was smaller than expected.  She was still alive, so we only thought the doctor’s original estimates were off.  No, it was a death knoll, a sign that the natural laws are fixed and would not have mercy.

Truly, I invite you to share our grief.  Before the miscarriage, I shared in the grief of many parents who lost their children too soon, and sometimes too violently.  Who can endure escaping a burning building, only to realize your child is still inside?  Who can endure the senseless loss resulting from a drunk driving accident?  Cancer?