I'm posting this here because I believe every baby should be remembered. I hope the friend who sent this story to me won't mind that I'm sharing it.
I was touched by the image of all the pinwheels you put on the babies' graves at the cemetery. It made me remember being little and going to the cemetery where my grandfather is buried. My mom and aunts always told us that my grandfather knew the exact location of, and always put flowers on, the unmarked grave of a baby who died long ago and was buried outside the cemetery because he/she was black. No one remembered the precise location anymore, but we always took flowers out there and guessed just the same. I have a sudden urge to drive out to that cemetery and walk through the knee-high grass outside the fence and remember that forgotten little one with some flowers.