My daughter, Sian, suffered a miscarriage on Thanksgiving.
Sian and Nathan didn't tell us until Saturday because they didn't want to ruin our holiday. I don't care about having some sort of holiday if they need help. I care about them. I care about my darling daughter and her sweet husband and their beautiful, wonderful little baby boy.
I was sad. I cried. But they're philosophical about it, and they feel a great deal of peace. That little spirit is still their child. I don't know how these things work, but they feel strongly that the mighty spirit that couldn't use the defective body that was miscarried will still be able to experience mortality and come to their family in this life. I feel that way, too. Again: not claiming theological revelation, just telling you how I feel.
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