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We're members of a club that none of us asked to join. The membership dues are steep - they require the loss of a child. And unfortunately, there's just too many of us in this organization. Ask any of us and we'd tell you that we'd give anything in our power to take our child back and resign, gladly forfeiting our membership. Alas, being powerless to have this greatest wish granted, we do what's second best. We keep living, we keep loving - despite our pain and sorrow. Some days are bleak and filled with tears, and on other days we put one foot in front of the other on our journey towards finding a new normal. Along the way we find some joy, tinged with sadness, as we revel in any chance to share our story and keep our child's memory alive. In Mothers of Angels, over twenty mothers, a father, aunts, and grandmothers rallied together to tell the tale of children gone too soon. Some were miscarriages or early births, and the child never drew a breath or walked this earth. Others were young and the carefree days of bicycle riding, skateboarding, and just being a kid were their final days, never getting the chance to find out about getting old. Others were grown. Their driver's licenses said they were adults, but they were still our children. Being a child doesn't come with an expiration date. They're still our babies and we still grieve losing them to death. In our grief and despair, we've also learned to lend a welcoming embrace to others as they enter our ranks. We share, we offer shoulders in consolation, and share our resources as we step forward and help others learn to live and love again. Come join us as we share our children with you, honoring their memories in whatever way we can. And if you're a member of this growing group too, we hope you find some words of solace amidst the pages.