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After each birth (i'm one of 3 daughters), my parents suffered a miscarriage. The last, mom's 6th pregnancy, was carried well into her second trimester & had a lot of complications. She was on bed-rest and admitted to the hospital a few times. She ended up delivering the baby and he did not survive. My parents decided to have him buried on our family plot & had a small service with just my 2 sisters & I and the pastor.
I think this was the most emotional for my parents because of the complications...and that fact that if he had lived he would have not only been the only brother in our family but the only boy in my dad's family to carry on the last name. We use to come home from school ( i was in 8th grade and my sisters were in 1st grade and Pre-K) and sit on the bed with mom doing our homework. Sometimes we'd bring her dinner on the good plates to cheer her up. We bonded as mother & daughters and felt attached to the baby as well.
At the same time, we know life has to go on and I'm blessed with 2 healthy sisters. I think the grief process is on-going, depending on the circumstance & accepting what happened is different for everyone.
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