Questions

I am one of those people who worries about what other people think, a lot. I want to be liked by all, I don't want to offend anyone, I don't like contention. So I worry. I remember a short time after I had Harrison I worried about what people thought and still worry. I wonder if they think, "Oh he was only 20 weeks, you didn't even know him. Or, "He couldn't have survived so why is it so hard" and so on. I think about that often. I feel as though when I see other mothers grieving for their lost children that they are justified in doing so. Many people I know and have come across have lost their children at almost full term due to umbilical cord accidents or other things. They are justified in their grieving and loss because their babies had every chance of survival, they were with them full term and were babies. Or those mothers whose babies lived for awhile and due to some reason were not able to survive. Or mothers who have a child die at any age for that matter. For some reason I always have the thought in mind that if I am sad that people wonder why. But then I think of mothers who've lost a baby due to a miscarriage and were never able to see or hold their baby, how much that hurts. Or those mothers who have infertility problems and have no been able to conceive a child of their own how much that must hurt. I believe we are all justified in our grieving. Being a mother is our Divine right and purpose for being on this earth. Whether in this life or the next we will all be able to be Mothers.

Many women who have had the opportunity to become a mother will understand in some way how I am feeling. Do you remember the feeling when you first found out you were pregnant? Maybe you were scared, worried, frightened. Maybe you were happy, excited, it was a long time coming. You connect with that baby instantly. You wonder what they'll look like, how they'll talk, if it will be a boy or girl. There is spirit in that baby inside of you from the moment they were conceived I believe. I had all of those feelings and thoughts with Harrison. I was able to see him in pictures through ultrasounds, see his heartbeat, see him move, see his profile. I was far enough along that I had gained a little weight, so people knew I was pregnant just by looking at me, I had a belly. I was far enough along that I had felt him move, my husband could even feel him kick. I was far enough along that I found out that my baby was a boy. My husband, children, and I had a connection to him. He was our baby boy.
So when my body went into labor and there was nothing they could do I was devastated. My baby boy, my Harrison was alive and well. There was nothing wrong with him. He lived until the very end of my labor, but he was too little to survive in this world. The most amazing thing was that even at 21 weeks he was a baby. He was a tiny baby, only 13.2 oz but he was a baby. He was perfect, he had everything that newborns have, fingernails, toes, the cutest little ears. He was a baby. I was able to hold him, kiss him, feel him. He was my baby and yet he's not here with me. I had to give him away, I had to say goodbye. I can't hold him anymore or feel him anymore.
I had many questions and still do, which many will not be answered, but I searched for answers in the Book of Mormon, through Prophets talks to see that I was justified in my feelings and that what I believed, that I would be able to raise him someday was true.
Then a friend of mine, a friend who early on in her pregnancy had lost a baby, sent me an email with answers to questions I had. Not much is said on Stillborn children, but she found this in Mormon Doctrine:

"...That masterful document on the origin of man by the First Presidency of the Church (Joseph F. Smith, John R. Winder, and Anthon H. Lund) appears to bear out the concept that the eternal spirit enters the body prior to a normal birth, and therefore that stillborn children will be resurrected. It states: "The body of man enters upon its career as a tiny germ or embryo, which becomes an infant, quickened at a certain stage by the spirit whose tabernacle it is, and the child, after being born, develops into a man." (Man: His Origin and Destiny, p. 354.) This interpretation is in harmony with the general knowledge we have of the mercy and justice of that Infinite Being in whose divine economy nothing is ever lost. It would appear that we can look forward with hope and anticipation for the resurrection of stillborn children.

President Brigham Young taught that "when the mother feels life come to her infant, it is the spirit entering the body preparatory to the immortal existence";

President Joseph Fielding Smith gave it as his opinion "that these little ones will receive a resurrection and then belong to us."

There it was. I am justified in my feelings. Harrison was a baby and was my baby. He had a spirit and I knew it. I believed I would be able to raise him again someday and I was right. He will be able to be resurrected as we all will and will be able to be whole, spirit and body one day and I will be able to hold him, hug him, and kiss him and raise him.