I wonder what she would have been like, my little girl that never was.
A mother’s worst fear, a miscarriage, a child born too soon.
People said, “But you already have three children,” or “You can always have another.” How could people be so cruel? No one can be the same as this child.
I sometimes dream of her, what she might have been. Sometimes when I’m in my garden, or sitting quietly embroidering a pillowcase, I hear her voice, her laughter, and I look up, but no one is there. Only a ghost of what might have been.
#99WordStory #HighamFamilyHistory #Miscarriage #InfantMortality #NonFiction #Tragedy #MargaretGHanna
The back story:
Losing a child under any circumstance is a heart-rending event. My maternal grandmother, Mary Higham, had two miscarriages sometime in the 1920s, long before the advent of medical interventions that now allow premature babies to survive. Even though infant mortality, both premature and full-term, was more common then, it was still a devastatingly tragic event.
My mother and aunts didn’t say much about the miscarriages, just that they had happened, but their few words conveyed profound sorrow. They must have thrown a long-lasting shadow in the Higham home for my mother and aunts to remember them after all those years.
A Prairie Perspective 
A well written story Margaret, you’re building quite a collection. Peoples well meaning comments are often thoughtless and without genuine care. I remember walking through our village 24 years ago, just a year after our son had died and someone said to my wife “….. are you over it now?”!!!!!!!!!
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One never gets over it. I love the words “shadow child” as they never got to the light. It’s hard. And in the pioneer era it might not happen just once. My grandmother lost one a few days old, had a miscarriage and lost a 2 year old. Ended with 5 boys and my mom.
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Our grandparents’ generation lived more often with tragedy than we do but even so it was still painful, both to experience and to recall.
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What a poignant story! I literally got goosebumps as I read this. Bravo. A wonderful poignant read. 💜
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