Cleansing Tears & Lighting A Candle

Wow.
You all left me in a virtual flood. Cleansing tears were shed yesterday by buckets.
I have never prayed so hard or agonized so long on whether or not to post something.
I literally prayed and closed my eyes and hit publish post. Squinting hard.
Same with Facebook.
I felt peace, and then scared.
I just totally exposed myself.
Eewww. Not a comfortable feeling.
Within minutes, an outpouring of love, support, encouragement, a gift of knowing I was not alone filled my inbox on facebook, filled my email, entered my comments. People sent songs that made them feel better, pictures of their babies that had gone way to soon. Poems that expressed their love for their babies, hopes and prayers for their precious souls. Their beliefs on where they are now. Memorial Pages dedicated to their loved ones that they can write letters too. How they never forget the day they lost their baby, how that day passes every year and their due dates and what they do to never forget, even if others don't understand. Some made movies of the events of very short lives and what happened. Siblings who had grieved or who had stood and watched their Mother grieve not really understanding, but knowing to be respectful. Mothers who had buried a twin and clung tightly to the one left behind. Mothers who had dreamt of babies, only to be told you will never have a child. Mothers who when finally ready to give birth delivered only empty arms in the stillness of the night. Whose births were attended by a warmth and spiritual silence of cries but had the same feelings nonetheless of every other birth. Mothers who were refused to be allowed to see their babies, telling them, you don't want to see this. Mothers who spent nights in hospitals alone and no one understood. Mothers who packed up their maternity clothes and sent them to another while feeling the terrible weight only they knew. Mothers who suffered Ectopic Pregnancies and didn't know and rendered a tube useless, thereby greatly stalling any chance for future pregnancies. Mothers who suffered ectopic pregnancies and no one checked first and accidentally were delivered of the healthy baby as well that was attached in the uterus no one knew about until it was too late. Mothers who lost grandchildren to miscarriage and stillbirths. Mothers who stood alone as the Fathers were unavailable emotionally or physically. Mothers in their 70's who remembered with perfect clarity every detail. Mothers who had been shunned by their inability to ever give live birth to a child. Mothers who held their children for only 2 hours. Mothers healing right before my very eyes, Mothers losing children and welcoming another child right away. Mothers who never would. Mothers who aren't yet, but still proved to know how to comfort and bless. Mothers whose hearts ached right along beside mine and shed grateful tears they had been spared thus far. Mothers who were spurred on to adopt. Mothers who quietly decided to never try again and carefully folded this away in their hearts. Mothers who armed themselves with the knowledge of the Gospel and faithfully taught everyone they came in contact with so they would have that peace that comes too. Mothers that now understand and have had their hearts broken and healed with a compassion like none other and serve with a diligence that rivaled by none. Mothers who every year stand and release balloons to heaven. Mothers who gather their families and celebrate a day in their honor and do something they think their child would've enjoyed. Mothers who hang pictures or ultrasounds. Mothers who hang Christmas Ornaments. Mothers who plant trees, lillies, or lilacs to remind them how fleeting life is. Mothers who draw, write poetry, pen books and other useful creative outlets. Photographers who came and took pictures of these precious souls before burial. How it affected them. I never knew most of these stories. I thought I knew people pretty well. How deep the sufferings are of so many that we don't really know. Yet they stand. They go forward with faith and courage in their lives. They get dressed every morning, they kneel beside their beds every night and pour out their hearts in gratitude that their sacrifices are not unknown to a God that loves them so deeply and comforts and lends them strength. They too have been wrapped in his eternal arms of love and carried. Have drank the bitter cup and been afterwards filled to overflowing as they receive promises that they will be joined with them again and will be able to raise them, that every hurt in this life will be made up. That the Great God of all of Heaven and Earth is mindful of them and grieves along with them as He knows their pains and wounds are deep. As He quietly whispered, I lost a Son too. I didn't even know this day existed, but apparently today is the day that Mothers across the earth who have lost children or remember a lost child, light a candle at 7 pm tonight that as their children look down from Heaven there is a wave of light that streaks across the earth and shines light to the heavens that they may know they are remembered and still loved. If you all only had any idea how you have changed my life and helped me to not feel alone and how I have basked in your faith and been enveloped by your prayers, even those who couldn't say anything because it felt trite or obtrusive. Those who called and just listened. I echo the words of my sister. I am so grateful for the Sisterhood I have found in all of you. Even the Fathers and Fathers to be someday. You astound me and I am humbled to know you.