When I was walking through the cemetery the other day, I found many headstones, along with the names of a husband and wife, inscribed with this:
"Also, two children who died in infancy."
Sometimes, it was one child. Sometimes three children. Sometimes more. No names for these children. Just a recognition that they were born to this life and then died to it.
My maternal grandmother had fourteen children, the last of which was my mother. Of those fourteen, three died shortly after birth.
I wish I'd gotten to have a conversation with her about those children. The only thing my mother has ever said about it was that her mother once told her that there never passed a day that she did not think of those children and miss them.
I understand, Grammy. I understand.