My Precious Little Dot

"God has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3:11)."

Photo by Christopher Ott on Unsplash

April 26 is my daughter Allie's birthday, and it is not a birthday by the traditional definition, which marks the day when one was born.

A year ago, on this day, I lay on the exam table as the doctor performed the ultrasound. It was the first day of my eighth-week pregnancy. The doctor pointed at a tiny black dot on the screen and told me that it was my baby. I didn't know anything about this child yet, but my maternal instinct told me that the tiny dot was my girl. She's alive, on the screen.

The doctor said that at eight weeks, the fetus is about the size of a raspberry. But she's growing fast, at a rate of a millimeter a day. She would soon develop lips, nose, and eyelids IF all goes well.

That "IF" was what made me nervous. Three years prior, I lost my son Lucas and learned the painful lesson that not every pregnancy will have a happy ending. I was glad to get pregnant again, but I was also afraid to be happy about it at the same time.

April 26th, 2021, was the first time and the last time I saw my daughter. Shortly after that doctor's visit, I experienced a miscarriage. After several days of heavy bleeding, I lost my girl. It drove me crazy that I didn't even know on which day she and I became separated. A week later, as I lay on the same exam table as the same doctor was doing the ultrasound, that tiny black dot was no longer there on the screen, and it was the final confirmation that she was gone.

I asked the doctor if I could keep an ultrasound picture from April 26. He said, "Yes." My husband made a beautiful letter "A" shaped wood frame for the ultrasound picture. "A" stands for Allie; that's the name we picked for this child.

Some people trivialize miscarriages. They argue that since the loss of a child happens so early in the pregnancy, it won't cause as much emotional pain and suffering for the mother because the bond between a mother and child hasn't formed yet. In addition, since one in four pregnancies ends in a miscarriage, the high frequency seems to justify downplaying the loss even further. "It happens, and just try for another one." Some people will say to those who experienced miscarriages. Such indifference is maddening.

I cannot speak for others. For me, losing Allie was no less painful than losing Lucas. Every time I think of Allie, I'm swept by waves of sadness. She was taken from me too soon. It drives me mad that I know so little about her. When I miss her so much that I can no longer bear it, all I can get hold of is one ultrasound picture that shows her as a tiny dot. 

Losing a child is one of the worst kinds of sufferings in life. Suffering is never a choice. But how one reacts to it is always a choice. Teresa Mull, an editor for the Spectator, recently wrote that we don’t have to view suffering “as pointless punishment inflicted by a flippant God. Nor is it something that should be feared, make us anxious, or cause despair.” Instead, she said, suffering can be a “catalyst,” and “when united to the suffering of Christ on Calvary and offered in love, suffering is an opportunity to grow, providing us with purpose and a pathway to heaven, as if we are carrying our own cross.”

Her comments remind me of the Chinese word for suffering, “苦 - kŭ,” which has the images of someone carrying three crosses. Whoever invented this word must have experienced unspeakable suffering. After losing two children in three years, I had to choose whether to drown in despair and sorrow or march forward in life with even more grace and love, regardless of how many crosses I had to bear. I chose the latter.

I decided to designate April 26 as Allie’s birthday because I knew she was alive on that day a year ago. She might be as tiny as a raspberry when she lived and departed from this world, but her life and existence are still precious to me. The best way I can honor my child is to celebrate her life on this day every year.

As I’m writing this piece, the tulips in my garden are blooming. Tulips are my favorite flowers. They usually bloom in early spring, right around the time of both of my children’s birthdays -- April 26 for Allie and May 14 for Lucas. Tulips will bloom for only a few days, but boy, they give the most vibrant colors when they do. They always remind me of my children, Allie and Lucas. As the Bible says, “God has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3:11).” 

A few days after Allie’s birthday, on May 1, it will be International Bereaved Mother’s Day. It was a day established in 2010 to honor mothers who lost a child. I never liked the term “bereaved mother.” At the same time, I do not know if there is a word to accurately and adequately describe a mother who lost a child. 

I’m sending my love and prayers to all bereaved mothers. Please know that you and your children are not forgotten. May God bring you peace and comfort.