30 Days of Thanks #7

Monday, November 8, 2010

I am so thankful we are not alone in our grief. Sadly, there are many others who know what it is like to lose a child-- To bury their tiny little bodies in the ground and be expected to 'move on.' Others who know the language we speak everyday without words, the patterns we live that look like life, but that are really robotic motions that create the illusion that we're humans. I'm not sure what we are, because we are very broken. But through our unity comes strength.

In their presence we feel understood. Acknowledged. Validated. And loved.

Last night we had dinner with the Incredible Imblers. They lost their little boy, Jacob, while visiting Matt's mother in her final hours of pancreatic cancer. He drowned while at the babysitter's house, just thirteen hours before his grandmother passed away. They have also said goodbye to two stillborn children. Angenette wrote her entire ordeal on A Good Grief a few months ago. I feel honored to know them and humbled when I am in their presence. We had a great time eating delicious food, playing with their three living children, and just breathing the same air.

There are depths in the sea, which the storms that lash the surface into fury never reach. They who reach down into the depths of life, where in the stillness, the voice of God is heard, have the stabilizing power which carries them poised and serene through the hurricane of difficulties...
-Spencer W. Kimball

Here we are at Library Square in downtown Salt Lake with the Hibbert Family. Dave and Char went through the grueling in vitro process, and were blessed with twin boys; Mason and Lincoln. Mason choked on a pretzel six weeks after Lucy, on Dave and Charlotte's wedding anniversary. Mason and Lucy were both organ donors, and their names have been engraved on a glass wall outside the famous Salt Lake City library. We see the Hibberts regularly and love them dearly. Char and I had just given birth when this photo was taken, about one year after our children passed away.

I was recently interviewed for a national newsletter. It will be published in January and sent all over the country. I'll share more about it on my website. At the end of the interview, I was asked if there was anything else I would want the readers to know, as for some of them, the newsletter is their only form of support. Hearing that made my heart sink. Everyone needs friends, angels, to lift them up. I said, "I would want them to know more than anything, that they are not alone. If I could physically be there for them I would. If I could hold their hand while they spoke of their child, I would. I just hope they believe me--they are not alone."

No one is alone.


  1. Beautiful support for each other. Such tragic stories. Such powerful friendships.



  2. I know that no one is alone... I just wish you could be together under better circumstances. Losing a child just seems so wrong. I am glad that you find comfort in others and that you have such an awesome support system... I just wish that it wasn't even possible for a parent to lose a child. (there i go again with my wishes)


  3. My mission companion I told you about in my last comment...their little boy passed away on Saturday. He was only 1 lb, 1 oz and just couldn't make it. Thank you for doing what you do, Molly. You're a blessing to so many.

  4. I felt the Spirit reading that last line. Thanks for continuing to share your thoughts and experience.


Powered by Blogger.