October is National Perinatal Loss and Infant Death
awareness month and as this is a topic close to my heart I like to spend my
first blog for the month of October reflecting in this area. This is usually
one of the blogs where the words come easy. This year it is different, I am not
sure why but the words are not coming easy.
If you have been reading here a while you know I am a
chaplain and have as one of my units the Maternity areas. I also serve on our
hospital Maternity Bereavement Team. Each year on the first weekend in October
we host a memorial walk for families who have experienced perinatal loss and
infant death. This year was special because we also dedicated a garden space
that is dedicated to remembering our little ones who have gone from our arms,
but not from our hearts. Our team has been working for years to see this garden
become a reality.
This past Sunday, I spent the early part of the afternoon speaking
words of dedication, walking, remembering, and honoring our Hope alongside many
other little ones. I was honored to remember the short life of a special little
girl, who had a very special connection to the hospital I work at. It was her
death and the gift of a bench by her family and friends that provided the
momentum for the garden itself.
I personally felt deeply the gift of this bench. In
preparing for the dedication, the family made it clear that it was their hope
that the bench would be a place of comfort for all who walk this journey of
loss and death of little ones. Their gracious expansion of the meaning of the
bench beyond themselves is a blessed gift to me as the tangible places and
things that mark our Hope’s presence in this world are few and far between.
My loss did not happen at a hospital, so the fact that the
bereavement team has been intentional about the garden being for all who
experience perinatal loss and infant death, no matter if it was at our hospital
or not, is another gift. It is another small way of others saying my little one
is special and had an important place in this world and is worth remembering. I
know this as Hope’s mom, but to have other people and an institution say this
in such a public way is a gift of healing that words fall short of conveying.
It has been a little over 6 years now since Hope died and
Sunday was the first time since the small private service in our home that my
family had gathered with intentionality remembering Hope’s presence in our
family. This was the first time we had been as a family to a public memorial
walk event. There were tears as we stood and listened to our Hope’s name read
aloud by one of the nurses I work with and we walked to place our roses in
front of the angel statue. My husband, daughter and I stood in a close hug with
my parents not far behind us as we listened to all the other little ones name
be read and honored. And for a small moment in time we were a part of people who
shared a similar grief.
We have had moments
of healing all along this journey and each has been Holy, but there was
something very special and Holy and sacred sharing this time with my family
that seemed to solidify my own healing as a bereaved mother.
My daughter stood at my side as I said prayers and spoke
words of dedication. She held my hand as the two of us led the group on the
walk. She shared with me as we walked that she finally feels ok in her own
grief journey. She has really struggled to grieve her role as big sister and I
have journeyed very intimately with her helping her young, tender heart deal
with this very big grief. The healing power of ritual was very evident in her
response to the afternoon. It was a very unique afternoon of my ministry as a
chaplain and my role as a mother coming together, quite literally side by side.
But again there was The Holy in this meeting up that I have not felt this
strongly before and will cherish for many years to come.
As I come to the end of the struggle to put these words to
writing, I am realizing what the power of the day was for me. I finally
experienced a public ritual of remembering my little one. The day may not have
been all about our baby Hope, and we were sharing the ritual with many others. But
then, perhaps that was the power of the day. We shared our common grief in
ritual and that is healing.