Memorial

This past Thursday, Trenton and I got to do something we had wanted to do since my 1st miscarriage. One of the most difficult aspects about a miscarriage, I think, is the fact that there is no socially recognized grieving process. The women is left to deal with massive amounts of pain and very few tools to manage that pain. After a couple weeks, the world moves on while she is still experiencing the devastating effects of her very real loss. Since I was further along with the most recent loss, I had to have a D&C. It was this reason that the hospital had the baby's remains and I had the option to lay the baby in a grave that the hospital has reserved for miscarried and stillborn babies. Each year, Penrose St. Frances holds a memorial in their chapel and then follows it with a burial of all the babies' remains. When I first received the invitation I was not planning on going. I felt it would be too agonizing- being around other women who had experienced similar pain, and I was nervous about digging up the morbid feelings I thought I had already dealt with. But I think more than anything, curiosity got the best of me.

The service at the hospital was so healing. I had the support of my wonderful husband, and Steve joined us, even though Shannon was working, which meant a lot to me. The Pastor that spoke was a women, and her words were incredibly poignant. And my concerns about being around the other woman couldn't have been further from the outcome. Being in their presence brought validity to all the feelings I have been experiencing since last August, and especially since March. I no longer feel that I'm being ridiculous for still hurting. I now know that it is okay to truly grieve because I actually lost a baby, not just a "chromosomal abnormality" or "remains of a faulty uterus." I lost a baby. This baby had a heartbeat, and lived inside of me- even if it was only for a short time. And I am so thankful the hospital has provided a way for me to honor those little people that made such a giant impact on my life.

The burial took place at Evergreen Cemetery, which is where my Grandma and Grandpa are buried. I didn't know this until that day, but apparently Evergreen is the oldest cemetery West of the Mississippi. And it is beautiful!

The headstone for the site was draped with onesies and toys, and flowers. This picture is such poor quality because it was taken by Trenton's cellphone, but it says, "In Loving Memory of our Babies- I will never forget you. I have written your name in the palm of my hand."

Until next time,
Janet, Trenton, Emma, and Benjamin