Who are these souls I never knew? A short remembrance for Mother's Day...

Over the course of eight years, while my husband and I tried to have children, I had what is called "habitual miscarriages". It was almost as if my body was rejecting embryos as foreign bodies. I can't be certain, but I believe the total to be 6-8 miscarriages. Doctors could give me no reason why I couldn't carry a pregnancy to term. The miscarriages themselves were brutal and the bleeding was copious. My first miscarriage happened overseas where my husband was stationed. Families weren't authorized, so there was no GYN on base. After two solid weeks of heavy bleeding, I was brought to Taichung Airbase. I was seen by a urologist, who examined me and told me I was fine. The next day I passed out cold. My husband rushed me back on base, where I was admitted to the hospital and given four units of blood. My hemadcrit was dangerously low. Another loss of one pint of blood and I would have died. I was catherized and was transported by air to Taipai Naval Hospital. They performed an amiocentesis. This is where they pierce a long needle-like tube from your abdomen into your uterus to obtain fluid to test for pregnancy. Apparently they were too late. I had lost nearly all the 'contents' of my uterus. I still remember holding a male nurse's hand during the procedure. My nails pressed so hard into him that he winced in pain. They don't put you under for this. I was scheduled for a DNC, but thankfully I had a fever and this was not done.
Subsequent miscarriages, allthough brutal, were not as life threatening.
I wonder about these souls that I never knew. I know that they must go back to God. Sometimes I'll feel a flutter like butterfly wings in my ear. I like to think that it's one of my babes whispering to me. There must be a special harbor where they reside. Will I be allowed to 'know' them when I pass over?
The sad fact about miscarriage is that there is no funeral. It is considered a biological episode, like passing a stone. But you greive all the same. When I finally accepted the fact that I would not deliver a child, a miracle happened and my daughter Amber was carried to term. Thankfully, I didn't miscarry again. This Mother's Day, I would like to extend my condolences to the mothers who lost these little souls.
I would also suggest that you do as I have done. Plant a living thing in their honor--a flowering plant or tree that you can see every day, so that they have not passed out of this world unknown.