It’s 8:00 a.m. and the house is silent, save for the rattle of Ellie’s collar (she’s an early riser, like me) and the occasional rumble of cars chugging past the window.
How I am supposed to get the kids up and at ‘em when the silence is so sweet?
Plus the kids went to bed at a very late hour, and the reason for this was a good one.
We went to an Archdiocesan Mass of God’s Children last night. It was the 5th annual Mass of its kind, and honored the parents, families and friends who have lost a baby via miscarriage, still birth or early infant death.
I cried. It was so lovely.
I have to commend its organizers, especially Cathy who contacted me a month ago to see if my family would bring up the gifts. We were honored to be a part of this beautiful, moving liturgy… from the opening prelude of “Angels Watching Over Me” to the candlelit meditation accompanied by Brahms’ Lullaby to the closing song, “All through the Night.”
It was so lovely.
We were able to light a candle and announce the names of each of our children, and then were given these candles to take home. We will illuminate them during evening prayers, I think, perhaps on the anniversary of each child’s passing.
I know that there is a deep hurt inside of me—one that hasn’t entirely been healed but rather, that’s been covered up by busy-ness and denial. It is easier not to think about those moments in life that have hurt us deeply, but without thinking about them (and embracing them, really) we don’t grow.
Our life is journey. My miscarried infants have arrived.
I would like to close with a link to a dear friend’s website. She, too, lost her beloved son one short year ago at the tender age of seven. She has dedicated a website to Remembering Ben and to promoting awareness of Sudden Unexpected Death in Epileptic Patients.
Here is Jenny’s website.
Scroll down to see the photo of Ben’s amazing eyes…and then imagine how they’re shining now. He’s been welcomed into paradise—imagine! He’s been enfolded in God’s arms.
Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away;
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away.(Albert E. Brumley, 1929)
With love & hope in times of joy and sorrow,
That Mass was a wonderful idea! I will need to check if we have them here.
When I miscarried over the summer (my second), we had decided not to tell the kids because of their young ages. I had commented to someone that one day my sons will be told about their siblings in heaven when I think they are ready. The person responded, “why would you even tell them? It’s in the past.” I still think why wouldn’t I tell them-the have special angels to watch over them.
What a beautiful gift you have been given in being able to start mourning the loss of your babies. God’s love is so wonderful, so powerful and healing. I think you’ve been needing this for a long time. Much love to you this day….
We have a special Mass in our Diocese too, it’s in January though I think.
Therese- My kids know about my miscarriage, they talk about Gabriel being in heaven and being their brother, it often brings up great conversations about heaven and how we are to be here on earth.
I’m sure it’s bittersweet too Margaret, mourning the losses and yet being so happy with the new life within. This new life I’m sure is helping with your healing. What a precious gift God has given you in more ways than one!
That is such a lovely idea.
What a lovely quote at the bottom of your post. I was just thinking about my own twins that I lost when I was 8 1/2 weeks pregnant. Your post was comforting in a way. I believe that all of our children are playing up in heaven together. I wish that we had a mass like that in our diocese. I am praying for you and your little one every day. God Bless you.
Caroline B.
TN
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for sharing Ben’s website.
I teared up when I saw the lyrics to his favorite song at the end of your post.
The Mass you attended sounds so beautiful. Keeping you and your family in my prayers.