love song link up

Over at Betty Beguiles Hallie is hosting a little love song link up where she invited her readers to post about their favorite love songs.  Taking a slightly different twist on the matter I thought I'd post the songs that make me think of the people in my family.  They're love songs, just not the romantic kind.
Travis:

The first dance at our wedding reception was to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's version of What a Wonderful World and that song is special to me.  But I still consider this "our song."

Peter:

A lot of the things Sara lists in this song are things Peter never got the chance to lose.  But even though he lost his life he cannot lose my love.

Lydia:

This song came out right around the time of Lydia's birth.  Every time I heard it I thought of my little girl, this new soul trying to figure things out in the world and I was given the blessing of leading her by the hand.  So lovely.

Bennet:

This song came out around the time of Bennet's birth.  Looking at my great big baby boy as he grew into the charmer he is - it is undeniable that there is a Creator behind the miracle that is life.
James:

There were so many times I sang this song to James while he was in the NICU and I still sing it to him as a lullaby at times.  The lyric, "with ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go" made my heart ache, especially when we were still looking at the possibility of James having a rather short and very disabled life.  Take away all the grief and jubilation and he would still be my sweet baby James.

Teresa:

The chorus of this song was the first thing I sang to my new baby girl when I held her in my arms.  Even the first time I heard it I touched my belly and thought of her.  It's so fantastic how God places just the right people together.

Peter's birthday / For Pete's Sake

Today is the fourth anniversary of our first child's due date.  It's pretty much all I have of him.  Had Peter survived the pregnancy he would be four years old today. 

I wonder if he would look like me or Travis.  I wonder if he would prefer chocolate or vanilla.  I wonder what would make him laugh.  I wish I could hear him say my name and I wish I could scoop him up in my arms.

 

Awhile ago someone anonymously mailed me an image of Christ holding a small child.  I consider it my only picture of my son and I greatly appreciate the gift.

For Peter's sake I gather prayer intentions on the 15th of each month.  The intentions can be related to infertility, the loss of a child, a failed adoption - anything that is related to the longing for a child.

As a way to honor the child I lost through miscarriage, Peter Mark, and to share your burden, please allow me to pray for you or your loved ones who are carrying the cross of infertility or loss of a child.

You may share your prayer request in the comment box or by emailing me at bonnie engstrom at gmail dot com.

Comments may be anonymous and please feel free to share as much or as little as you like.

It is an honor to pray for you! Thank you for the privilege!

the sorrow and the grief

Holy Week was emotionally exhausting.  Some good friends, 38 weeks into a healthy pregnancy, lost their first child.  The funeral was probably the saddest and yet most joyful I've ever been to.  Our hearts go out to them and I ask you all to join me in praying for the family of Caleb Benedict.

For Travis and I it brought to the surface many, many feelings of sorrow and grief.  Watching our friends grieve while placing their hope in God took us back to the first hours, days, and weeks of the NICU while also speaking to exactly where we are now.  Balancing questions and worry with blind faith in a good God.

But our friends' loss made me hurt for Peter more than I have for a long, long time.  It has always been hard for me that Peter's body - only about 4 weeks old - was just "broken down" by my body and then passed.  I wish I could have held his body, studied this fingers and toes and lips, memorized his size and shape in my arms.  I wish I could have breathed his scent, washed his body, dressed him in special clothes.  I wish I could have given him a dignified burial.

Because it is one of my favorite posts I am reposting below something I wrote in January 2010.

January is the month that our first child, Peter, was due to be born. The 15th was his official due date, and it was a day that came and went without tears, just a brief acknowledgement that it was here and he wasn't.


I know that if Peter would have survived then Lydia would not be here, which is a tricky truth.

I bring him up, not for condolences, but because I want you to remember him the same way I do. He is always present to me as a great litany of questions and imagined features, giggles and hugs.


I suppose, more than anything, I want people to be more compassionate to mothers who have miscarried and to their families. I still grieve for the child I never knew.

Peter's would-have-been birthday

January is the month that our first child, Peter, was due to be born.  The 15th was his official due date, and it was a day that came and went without tears, just a brief acknowledgement that it was here and he wasn't.

I know that if Peter would have survived then Lydia would not be here, which is a tricky truth.

I bring him up, not for condolances, but because I want you to remember him the same way I do.  He is always present to me as a great litany of questions and imagined features, giggles and hugs.

I suppose, more than anything, I want people to be more compassionate to mothers who have miscarried and to their families.  I still grieve for the child I never knew.

Trick or Treating and the Day of the Dead

Trick of Treating was a success! Between EC and our neighborhood we collected almost $70 for Unicef. Travis and I are both really glad we did it - not only did we get to show off our daughter, raise money for a good cause, score a couple of pieces of candy, but we also got to meet our neighbors! That last bit was so great! If you have trick or treaters yourself, I would highly encourage you to let them Trick or Treat for Unicef next year. We only had one house that didn't want to give, though we definitely caught almost everyone off guard when we turned down their candy.

Today is the Feast of All Saints, wherein the Catholic Church celebrates all those holy souls in Heaven. Tomorrow is All Souls Day, when we remember and pray for all our loved ones who have passed away (this is for everyone in Purgatory). There will be a Mass for the dead at 10:30 am at the Cathedral in Peoria on Sunday. Also, at 3:00 pm at Resurrection Cemetery on Allen Rd there will be a prayer service for all babies lost in pregnancy or infancy. We will be attending on behalf of Peter Mark. If you or anyone you know has lost a baby I welcome you to come. While it will be a Catholic service, anyone of any faith should feel comfort.

Our first baby

This is the week that my due date for our first baby fell in. On the actual date itself I went out of town to visit friends and be with people I could cry in front of and also attend Mass celebrated by a friend and offered for Peter.
The day was spent visiting and catching up with wonderful Catholic friends. And I had an excellent chai tea.

The best gift, though, was that the first reading at Mass was from the beginning of 1 Samuel - the story of Hannah's grief over not having a baby. I have been attracted to her since early in college and it brought me great comfort to mourn with her a little.


But it is still tough, and though I am almost 7 months pregnant with our second child, I would still appreciate your prayers as I continue to grieve. Pray for Trav, too. It's different for him, but still a loss.

A woman's maternity

I recently received the Sisters of Life's Winter 2007 newsletter. The entire thing is about adoption and one of the articles shares their thoughts about adoption.

Despite the fact that they are speaking of women who place their babies with adoptive families, some of their comments struck me as a woman grieving a miscarried baby. Three points in particular were especially affirming and poignant:

Maternity is forever. Once a woman is pregnant, her maternity can never be given away. She will always be a mother. There will never be a day in her life when she is ever, in her mind, someone who does not have a child. She is a mother and that is forever... One lives her motherhood all the days of her life. She knows how old her child is, always. She may not have seen the child in years - it has not affected one iota of her maternity and the reality of her active motherhood, which is real.

This statement describes how I feel about our first child. As Peter Mark's due date approaches (Jan 15th) I think about how big I would be at this point. While most other people do not think of our first, I think of him every day. I wonder about his personality, how he would have looked. I picture his fingers and toes and potbelly. I imagine holding and nursing him. And I wonder how one "mothers" someone who is experiencing life in the fullest.

She needs a lot of support, to be loved, to experience her own goodness. She needs to have others delight in her so that she can draw upon those deep reservoirs of goodness within herself. She needs love and laughter and distractions in her worries. And she needs lots of time. She may need to cry her eyes out for months. And we need to be comfortable with that.

I have found this to be very true. Not that I want to forget the pain, but I definitely do not want to be alone. Working on the house has been a blessing in disguise as it brings friends and family to us every weekend. Seldom do I speak of how I'm really feeling to these people - sometimes because it would be awkward and sometimes because it's just not needed - but it is good to chat, catch up and laugh with people. And it does feel good to be loved and cared about so that people will give up their Saturdays for us.

She will live the long loneliness, really, of experiencing and knowing a love that she cannot express, but it is not the absence of love.

This is probably the worst part of it all. I know how to love my husband, family, friends and the baby in my womb. But I don't know how to love this saint child of mine. At this point, the only thing I can do to communicate my love for him is by crying. Which I suppose is sufficient.

The sad month of May

So here it is; I'm really hoping this will be therapeutic.

In late April Travis and I thought we might be pregnant. After Mass one Sunday we went to the drug store and bought an ept. This felt funny to me. I kept thinking, "People are going to know that we did it!" I was embarrassed and tried my best to hide it, especially from the people who had also just come from Mass. But I was so excited and wanted a baby.
In the end, there was just one line. Not pregnant. But Travis didn't care. "It's just too early. You're pregnant and we're going to have a boy."

To make a long story short, I was pregnant. On May 7th I took the test again and it was positive. On the 9th the doctor's office called to confirm it and we went to our parents' homes to tell our families. On the 10th there was bleeding and cramping. The 11th I went to the doctor who said things were "worrisome." And on the 12th we found out I had miscarried.

Here's the thing. When we went to Scotland I asked a woman if we should go to the Battlefield at Bannockburn (where the Scots, led by Robert the Bruce, defeated the English). She said yes, but that it wasn't just a field any more. Homes were built up all around it. "It was major, but life goes on, ya know." So that was the approach I tried to take. We told a small group of friends, many of whom didn't even know we were pregnant. We felt overwhelmed with grief - I certainly didn't want to be overwhelmed with phone calls. So I grieved on my own or with Travis. Life goes on. But that was stupid. In fact, I think that this grieving thing would be easier if more people knew.

We had a son. He has a name. He would have been born in January. With God, Travis and I created a new, unique, little soul. I felt him in me, or at least felt the effects of him in me. He deserves to be loved and acknowledged, even if his life was only 2-3 weeks in my womb.

We call ourselves pro-life, but we focus mostly on abortions. Well, what about people like me and Travis? Where are the links for grief counseling on the Diocesan website for us? Why isn't there a section in NFP literature that explains what my body will be doing after a miscarriage? Why didn't someone tell me, as soon as they found out I was bleeding that I could save the blood and anything else.
What the hell does the doctor think he's saying when he tells a Catholic, NFPing woman to "Chin up. Think positive," when her first child has died. He has pamphlets on breastfeeding, epidurals and the pill but nothing to offer a woman who has lost her child. I know miscarriages are common - he deals with women like me every week - he should have something more than "Don't worry. You're healthy. It's not your fault. You'll be okay to have more."

I know it's not my fault, but you telling me that there was a fatal defect in the chromosomes in my son so that my body rejected him does not make me feel better. I don't care what the science is - a baby is supposed to be safe in his mother's womb. I can know it's not my fault and still feel like crap about it.

And of course we will have more, but that doesn't make up for the one we lost. Our first.

I am angry and sorrowful. But what I am most upset about is the lack of a dignified burial. I was told God does not expect us to do the impossible, but I wish I would have done something. The feelings of guilt, however, are nothing compared to the helplessness.
There's a feeling of emptiness, too. Empty womb, empty arms.

And it can be hard to be around babies. But at least I can look at an image of the Infant Christ now. I couldn't do that for weeks.

Here is the tricky part: Life does go on. We make dinner and see friends and watch movies and pick out kitchen cabinets. But I want you to know that I do want you to acknowledge him. And tell me the good things that are happening in your life. And give me a call and catch up. Just please, instead of telling me that it's not my fault, or that it'll be okay, or just that you're sorry, will you please say, even if you can't understand, "You're right, Bonnie. That sucks."

Travis and I are parents. We have one son, Peter Mark, and no matter whose singing voice he inherited, I'm sure he sounds just beautiful praising before the throne.