Some Days by Katie Lindhurst

Image: Katie Lindhurst

Some days are easier than others.

Some days, I have it more together than others.

Today is not that day.

I have lost everything.  Lost my control.

Seeing a little one- the little feet, the little hands, the little eyes and ears.

Knowing that this little one was a miracle and so many things were fighting against him.

Why do some get their miracle and others don’t?

Did I do something wrong?

Did I not pray hard enough or long enough for my daughter to live?

I prayed to God to do the best thing for her- should I have prayed for her to be healthy and my miracle?

Would I have been more disappointed when I didn’t get my miracle?

My arms ached SO much to hold her today.

I want to cuddle with her, hold her hands, change a diaper, have her sleep on my chest, have her get to know her brother, smile at us, coo and babble.

I wanted the world for her.

The mothers that say that they don’t get any time here on earth with their little ones, but will have more time than being alone here with them in Heaven- it’s just an illusion to themselves.

Women who have their babies here still get more time with their baby than we will EVER have.

They get to hold their baby, talk to them, watch them grow.

Mine is buried in the ground.

How does one deal with that?!

My heart aches for her.  I want to just be with her for 5 minutes.

Just to hold her, tell her I love her.

What I would give to have those 5 minutes- but it would never be enough.

How badly did I want to go today, to see her greet me at the gates.

To hear her say, “Hi Mom!  Welcome home!  I can’t wait to show you this great place.”

I imagined that scenario in my head- how she sounded, looked, walked.

I could almost hear her, see her.

I could never do that to my son though.

He keeps me grounded here.

Without him, I don’t know what would have happened before or now.

It was my first real breakdown since I lost her.

Amazing how it is different once the meds are gone.

I could feel again.

It was like before was just a leaky faucet, just drips at a time.

Today was like a dam breaking- the flow of the water couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.

Seeing that baby; I got sick to my stomach.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

I have had a hard time lately just walking by baby girl clothes.

The choking feeling rising up inside, panic setting in.

The longing taking over.

Today was the worst.

Seeing that baby.

What could have been- should have been for me.

Why couldn’t I have had my happy ending?


Bio: Katie Lindhurst is the founder and organizer of the baby loss support group Butterfly’s Wings in Utica, Michigan.  Her daughter, Maggie, was stillborn on March 8, 2011 due to Trisomy 18.  Although the journey has been rough and nowhere near over, she has the loving support of her husband, Ryan, and four-year-old son, Landon.

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  1. you’re not alone in this… I’m surrounded by this… I live this… x5

  2. Heartbreakingly sad but yet beautiful written. I have lost two daughters, both at 20 wks along. This just spoke straight to my heart.

  3. I also lost my first end miraculous baby girl, Lola, from trisomy 18, in January of this year… Thanks for sharing your writing, in which I recognize myself in many ways… Good luck for the future and hang in there, sweet thoughts xx

  4. This gave me goosebumps. I lost my daughter and she has a living older brother, I don’t know were I would be at without him. Also I can remember a specific time I was in a store and there was a little baby, I was focused on that little baby. I could barley keep it together in the store.. I am actually very interested in your Babyloss group, I live in Oakland county MI and haven’t found any near, so I am so exicted I just read this.

    • Katie Lindhurst says:

      Heather, there is a facebook page for the group. We went on a short break for summer and the school was under major construction. We r starting back up in October. You can email me at katie.lindhurst at for more information too. Its sad but when we had Maggie that is when i found out there are very few support groups around. Especially Macomb county…there was one listed. I believe that is why Maggie was here so that her and I can help others.

  5. This spoke directly to me… I felt like these words could have come from my mouth (or fingertips). I lost my daughter at 42 weeks and the only thing that kept me hanging on, that still keeps me hanging on, putting one foot in front of the other every day, is her two big sisters. I could never leave them… I know all too well how much it hurts to lose one that you love. They keep me grounded and sane, especially on those days when just seeing a baby in a grocery store is enough to completely and utterly unhinge me… and that’s most days.

  6. I swear I could have written this. I also have a son who was my sole motivation to get out of my bed for months because he was still my gift too. It has been 5 yrs and 2 rainbow babies later. I wish I could say life is great and just wait it will get there. It will never be great for us again, but I am happy and I adore my boys. I am reminded daily of our little one and the hole she left behind seems larger than the grand canyon.

  7. Sending hugs, your story really speaks to me. I remember about a year after losing my twins I ran into boy/girl twins at the mall around the age mine would’ve been and it took all I had to hold in the emotion till I got to my car.

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