Most of the time I love being a minister. Tomorrow evening will be one of those times I do not.
In June 2007 I performed the wedding of a lovely young couple full of life and love and hope and promise. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony that included a horse-drawn carriage which took the bride and groom from the wedding site to the reception site. It was magical, and was one of the reasons I love being a minister, sharing that kind of joy and love.
In October 2009 they gave birth to their first beautiful baby girl. On December 21, 2010 they gave birth to their second beautiful baby girl, a winter solstice baby. Tomorrow night I will try to help them say goodbye to their newest daughter in the NICU unit of a nearby hospital, after which they will be turning off life support. Because I am unable to do the funeral for the baby on Saturday, they've asked me to do a prayer service/blessing for the baby with them and her aunts, uncles, and grandparents at the hospital.
Of course I said yes, but as the bride/mother sobbed on the phone with me tonight, I realized I have no idea what to say during the blessing of her daughter's very short life. One of the things she shared with me tonight was about their grief and sense of loss realizing that their two daughters, who they dreamed would grow up together as very close sisters, will not be realized. How do I speak to that kind of grief? Are there any words?
I hope something will come to me between now and then. Right now, I'm just so sad for them all.
Hi Susan,
ReplyDeleteI talked to someone at my church who co-facilitates a local grief support group for parents who have lost infants (http://www.parentcareinc.org/). She says she has a booklet she can mail to you, although of course it wouldn't get to you in time for this instance. Maybe it would be helpful in the future though. Let me know if you're interested and I'll give her your address or the NCC address.
I know I may be too late in getting to you tonight, but she suggested this site as a resource: http://www.babylosscomfort.com/what-do-i-say/
The rest of her message I'll quote so you can read her words rather than my paraphrase:
"One of the best things she could do for this couple is to refer them to a local grief support group if she can locate one in her area. She can do some searching on Google to find one (look for things like "infant loss support" or similar terms with her city/area). She can also ask at the NICU, as they may be able to refer her to a local group. There this family could find listening and love/support from other families who have had similar losses.
I will say a prayer for your friend now, as she spends time blessing this child and this family tonight. There is no moment more sacred than the one she will have with them tonight, and I am sure the words she needs will come. The real gift is that she is there, walking through this with them. That says more than any words can say."
I am so sorry.
ReplyDeleteI wrote a poem about this once.
Spiritual Midwifery
His name was Baby Boy.
His parents gave him another name
I will not say. He was born
without a skull
and the whole miracle of his brain
lay open, exposed.
He taught me grief, before I touched it.
He taught me what to do
if ever I should hold a life
in my arms, so near to wonder.
He taught me that ode, those intimations
of immortality. He was that small flower,
first to open, first to die in spring.
I did not weep to see him, not then,
for he was so small and perfect, always,
but when my own child was born,
whole and perfect, a baby boy
who would teach me every fold and curlicue of joy,
then I did weep, to learn
what could be lost.
Thank you Kathleen and Christy. Kathleen your poem made me gasp with its perfection, and Christy thank for you for the references tho I was unable to use them (I will save them).
ReplyDeleteIt went well, as well as something like that can go. Somehow this afternoon, after putting it off most of the day, I was able to string together some words to share with them, even tho there really are no words at a time like this, and a ritual that was nontraditional, which is what they wanted (and hopefully meaningful).
I talked about Solstice, and light and darkness, and love. At the end I read a poem by Wendell Berry.
They were so grateful for my presence I was humbled, and my heart broke into tiny little pieces when she sat in a chair holding that little angel who was all hooked up to tubes and wires, with her husband by her side and the rest of their family standing around them.
Such a sacred moment, yet just so wrong.
Susan, I think this is indeed the most sacred part of your job. Thank you for the strength you have in times like these.
ReplyDelete