Hearts break every day, but there’s something about the loss of a child that does something different… not better, not worse, just a deeper impact on the heart. There is this new connection I feel to other mothers and especially to other mothers who have lost a child. And every time I hear about babyloss, my heart feels that deeper-than-a-break stab, my throat tightens, I hurt from missing Hudson.
A few months ago, an acquaintance of mine lost her toddler in a freak accident. She has an older son who now sees his baby brother in the stars.
And of course there’s this Coldplay song.
Catchy hook, easy to remember lyrics, the perfect song to belt in my car with the windows down in the summer sun. And I can’t hear that damn thing without thinking of my friend’s baby boy, his big brother looking out the window at the nightsky and exclaiming that he can see his baby brother.
And I belt it anyway.
And I send a little love across the universe to my friend, and her family.
You know when you’re singing and you start to cry?
When I belt out “I think I see you-ooooooooooo” I think of Hudson’s beautiful little face too. I think of her as a star in the nightsky: maybe a little wistful that she didn’t get to spend this life with us, but surrounded by such beauty, contributing to the awesome sky-scape with her own unique light, eager for the day Anson looks out the window and shouts to Mommy and Daddy that he can see his big sister in the stars.