It is the second Halloween without my baby girl. I have been thinking all day about my Facebook feed with pictures of adorable children in their Halloween costumes. I love these pictures. I enjoy seeing my friends’ children, my niece and nephew and cousins. But today I did not post a picture of my son in his Martin Kratt bat creature power suit. He gives me his three-year-old stink face smile as he sits on an excavator at Touch-A-Trucks in his costume and I snap another photo. He holds my hand as we walk and trick-or-treat for the first time this evening. We ring four doorbells and he is in awe of the bowls full of candy. I did not post a photo of my son today because I’ve been thinking about the mothers who have had miscarriages and stillborn babies and babies who died after birth. I am thinking of my friends struggling with infertility and I’m thinking of the ones who are not here. My Facebook page is blank today because I am holding the space for the ones we love who aren’t here.
“Halloween isn’t even a holiday,” my husband says to me when I tell him what is on my mind. But Halloween is a part of our American culture. Tonight my pumpkins are in memory of the babies who are not here. I know that they are very close to us. In our hearts. On our minds. May our world remember us too: the mothers and fathers and siblings who remember our own on the other side of the veils, even as the children around us squeal and laugh and shout “Trick or Treat!”
As night settles in around us my son holds my hand and the jack-o-lantern’s glow reminds me of my daughter, my love, my Light.