Grace's Memorial Service

Yesterday, I was sitting alone in my eye doctor's office waiting for him to come in. I was reflecting on where we were 2 years ago. We often hear that "Time heals everything." or "It'll get better in time." Time might change things...the amount of tears cried...the length of time between those tears. The visions and memories that are never far away might not be as raw, but they continue to stab our hearts without warning. No matter how much time goes by, the pain will always linger, and I think that it will always be difficult to believe that this really happened to our family. We are always thankful for Grace.

August 8, 2010 ~ Sunday, Grace's Memorial Service

Today was the day...the day I had been anxiously anticipating since we decided to have a memorial service for Grace. I felt sick to my stomach and my heart felt like it would pound right out of my chest. Since we've never imagined in our wildest dreams that we'd ever have a memorial service for one of our children, we had no idea what to expect. We had no idea what we were supposed to do or how to do it.

We set things up in the front of church. We displayed a picture of Grace's feet, some pictures of Grace when I was still carrying her and pictures of May 20, the plaster castings of her feet and praying hands, her baptismal certificate, a plaque of her name, and the wooden box that holds her earthly remains. We received many beautiful flower arrangements and displayed those as well. Cousin Jeanne, Heather's Godmother, played pre-service music and Barb, our friend, played during and after the service.

One of Bob's co-working friends...the friend who came to my hospital room the morning after Grace died...knew of a volunteer firefighter who does videotaping. I'm praying that it turns out, because I've already forgotten so much of it. Heather was also sitting on my lap and was a bit of a handful. Our friends, Jenny and Brandon, who also went through this only one year ago, suggested that we have it recorded so we could watch it later on. (We haven't heard from him since and assume that the video didn't turn out.)

Pastor gave a comforting message like we knew he would. We heard the Law, which reminded us of our sins. "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me." Psalm 51:5 We also heard the comforting words of the Gospel, which reassured us that because of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, in our place, Grace is living in heaven today. What a gracious Lord! The Scripture readings and hymns were all fitting. Our Sunday school children sang “I am Jesus' Little Lamb”. We also asked our pastor to include the following Bible passages, which have become some of my favorite words since Grace died: "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!"  Psalm 139:13-17

Many of our friends, neighbors, and some family attended. A few of Bob's co-workers from the fire department came, too. When I saw Gary's wife, I couldn't help but remember the night back in March when we saw them at the Foreigner concert. The following day Bob posted on Facebook that "The baby was rockin' to Foreigner". She said that she remembers that night when she thinks about us.

So many of our friends said that the service was perfect. As they left the sanctuary, they received a bookmark with the “Precious Feet” poem—a little memento for everyone.

We were happy to see some of our friends attend Grace's service...friends that haven't been coming to church regularly. Everyone struggles with something. Hopefully, they were able to see that even through their struggles, we must continue to praise God.

After leaving church, Bob and I agreed that this was absolutely the right thing to do. Pastor said that after King David's son died, he went to church and worshipped. David said, "I will go to him, but he will not return to me." 2 Samuel 12:23  I never thought of it that way. It was important for us and others to praise God for Grace's short life...short through my clouded, earthly eyes.

I also included the following words in our 2010 Christmas letter...
On August 8, we shared Grace with our family and friends at a memorial service at our church, Beautiful Savior Lutheran. Once again, we were comforted with the assurance that Grace is living in heaven with her Savior. As difficult as some moments are, we know that we only miss her here on earth and realize that we will see her again in heaven. Every time Heather sees a cross she reminds us, "Jesus died on the cross to make (take) our sins away, so that when babies and people die, they go to heaven." Every time she sees our tears, she says, "You have tears. Do you miss Grace?" For a 3 year old to realize that we are only missing our loved ones who have gone before us is truly amazing!

Dear Grace

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Dear Grace,

On May 20, the day you were born and went to heaven, we decided to have a private memorial service for you at home with your 3 sisters. We made so many unimaginable decisions that day. We were planning to bring you home with us, not for God to take you home to heaven so soon.

We believe now that God gave us this time to rethink our decision. After bringing your earthly remains home on July 23, we knew that it was necessary to remember you and let our family and friends see you by having a memorial service at church.

Pastor came out to our home 2 weeks ago and helped us plan your service. We chose some of our favorite hymns: Children of the Heavenly Father, In Christ Alone, Amazing Grace, and Go My Children with My Blessing. The choir sang In Christ Alone and Day by Day.

We asked the Sunday School children to sing “I am Jesus' Little Lamb”. This is Heather's favorite song, and we wanted your sisters to be a part of your memorial service. The day that dad brought me home from the hospital, Angie said that Heather was swinging and singing this song at the top of her lungs. Heather told Angie that she wanted to hold you in her arms, and she cradled her arms as if she was holding you. Angie said that Jesus was holding you in His arms up in heaven. When Heather heard this, she clapped her hands and was so happy. Last week before the Sunday School children practiced their song, I told Heather that she needed to sing really loud so that you would hear her. She said, “If I sing really loud, will Grace come home?” I told her that you were already home.

We found a picture of Jesus holding a baby against His chest and had it put on the front of the service folder. This picture brings me so much comfort. In the front of church, we displayed a picture of your feet with the poem that dad wrote shortly after you went to heaven. We included pictures of you when I was still carrying you, pictures of you before you went to heaven, and a picture of you and me when you were with Jesus. Your baptismal certificate, a plaque that has your name on it, and the plaster castings of your praying hands and feet were also displayed. In the center of everything was the wooden box that holds your earthly remains.

We invited all of our family, friends, and neighbors. It was time to share you with everyone.

Today, August 8, has been a day that I've been anxiously anticipating for a few weeks now. I had no idea what to expect. I wasn't sure that I'd even be able to make it through the service. Dad and I felt all of the prayers coming from everyone. We were given amazing strength today.

Pastor had a comforting message for all of us. We knew that he would. I feel that because of you, Grace, some of our friends that we haven't seen in church since Easter came to church today. Everyone struggles with something. Hopefully, they were able to realize that even through their trials, we must continue to praise God. We pray that everyone's faith was strengthened, because of you, by the Holy Spirit.

Many of our friends said that your service was perfect—from the Scripture passages to the hymns we sang. Our friends also thanked us for sharing you with them. I never imagined how important this service would be to us and to so many others.

After leaving church today, dad and I agreed that this was absolutely the right thing to do. We feel a sense of peace. This doesn't mean that we'll feel better tomorrow. Tomorrow and the days to follow will be just as difficult as yesterday and today, but we know that we'll make it through this and we'll be with you again.

Love,

Mom

Planning the Memorial Service

As the time drew nearer in anticipation of receiving the phone call from Vanderbilt telling us that Grace's remains were ready, I began to rethink our decision of not having a public memorial service or funeral for her. It was eating me up inside. I kept asking myself why we were treating her as though she wasn't real. That might not have been what we were doing, but it sure felt that way. If any of our other 3 daughters died, we'd absolutely have a service for them. So, why didn't we do this for Grace? We didn't even write an obituary. The things that we did or didn't do weren't going to change anything. The only thing that mattered was that Grace was living in heaven.

Looking back, I'm glad that we took the time those first 2 ½ months to hibernate, process, and get through the initial shock and numbness. It was still overwhelming, but having a service for her only days after her death wasn’t even a coherent thought for us as we sat there in the hospital room wondering "What is going on here?" Our gracious Lord carried us through and continues to be faithful today.

After bringing her home, we knew that it was time to share her with our family and friends. Our pastor helped us plan a memorial service. Together, Bob and I picked out special hymns, and we asked our pastor to include a couple of Bible passages in the Scripture readings that brought us comfort and continue to today. We asked our choir and Sunday School children to sing during the service. The Sunday School children sang “I am Jesus' Little Lamb”. Heather knew all of the words. It was one of her favorite songs that she would sing while swinging outside. I told Heather that she needed to sing really loud so Grace could hear her. Heather asked, “If I sing loud, will Grace come back home?” I said, “No. Grace is already home in heaven with Jesus.”

Bob and I went clothes shopping a couple of days before the service. He never bought a suit for himself in our 18 years of marriage, and now we were going to buy one for our baby's memorial service. We picked out a black and white dress for me. We call them our funeral clothes. Since her service, we've worn them to at least 7 funerals ~ 3 of them were for children. When Bob hears, "You've really gotten alot of use out of that suit," I'm sure that he'd like to reply, "You have no idea ~ no idea why I bought it and no idea where it has been." Every time I see him wearing it, it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

We wanted to keep things simple for the service. We decided to include Grace's plaster casts of her feet and praying hands, her baptismal certificate, the framed 'Precious Feet' poem that Bob had written, and the box that held her earthly remains.

A collage was also going to be displayed. We only had a few pictures of her from the hospital. I've never enjoyed having my picture taken, so I only had about 4 of them when I was pregnant with Grace. Those pictures were saved on our computer ~ the computer that crashed 4 days before the service. We took it in to try to have those pictures retrieved but were told that everything was lost...a little bit of a meltdown followed. Thankfully, Bob was able to somehow come up with those 4 precious pictures and all was wonderful in our home once again. The collage included:

• A family picture at Brittany's Confirmation ~ 7 months along with Grace
• Heather and me on Good Friday ~ 8 months pregnant with Grace
• Ultrasound picture of Grace taken on her birthday ~ May 20
• Bob and me holding her in her room in the NICU
• Grace ~ hooked up to machines to help her live
• Me holding Grace after she went to heaven

When we let some of our family know about the service, I heard the word “closure”. People mean well, they just don't realize what some words mean to me. When I hear “closure,” I immediately feel that people think we will magically be “over it and back to normal” the day after. For me, the following day was going to be a day that felt as though Grace died yesterday. Sunday, the day of her service, would bring back so many emotions, but I was hoping that it would help to have the support of our family and friends who were able to attend. I don't want "closure" of this. To me, that would mean that we close the door on what happened...on what changed our lives...on what changed each of us. If I do that, I won't begin my day spending time with Him ~ reading His comforting words in my "Grace" Bible. I'll go back to reading the Bible whenever...when I feel like it, or when I find the time to do it. I don't ever want to go back to that. 

There was one more hurdle that I needed to jump before the memorial service. For most, it wouldn't seem like a big deal. I needed to get my hair cut. The last time I saw my stylist, I was 8 months pregnant. After Grace died, I anticipated conversations with others who didn't know about her yet. "How would they react?" "What would they say?" "Would they even remember that I was pregnant?" "Would they change the subject or completely avoid the subject like most were doing when they saw me?"

I journaled the following after I returned home from my haircut...

August 6, 2010  Friday  11 weeks

I continue to be reminded of how insignificant losing a baby is. I finally got up the nerve to get my haircut today. My last haircut was in April. Today's visit was even worse than I had anticipated. When I walked in, Kristin stood up and said, “Let's go to the back.” The other hair stylist saw me and said, “Wow! You're tiny!” The last time she saw me, I was huge. I gave her my straight, closed-mouth smile and kept on walking. As I followed Kristin down the hall, I said, “I was a lot bigger the last time I was here.” When I sat down she asked, “So...how are the babies?” She really didn't remember if I was having 1 or 2 or maybe she was just guessing. It was very awkward. I said, “Our baby died,” and started fighting back tears.

She said, “Oh.” It sounded more like “Eeeeew!” Like something you'd say after squishing a bug. Her next question was, “How would you like your hair cut today?” I couldn't even talk. More awkward moments. She continued on with meaningless small talk and I barely responded. Then she asked, “Have you been doing anything fun this summer?” I quietly said, “No.” I can't believe how insensitive people are. Why didn't I tell her that my excitement included having an emergency C-section and delivering our 4^th daughter who died 11 hours later?

After more awkward silence, I finally said that we had our 4^th daughter in May. She lived for 11 hours. Kristin asked one of my most hated questions, “What was wrong with her?” I just said that she was born with many difficulties. Then she gave me every cliché in the book. These are all of the things you're not supposed to say to someone's who's suffering with loss:

“At least you have 3 other children.”

“She's in a better place.”

“At least it's not suffering.”

“You'll just have to love your other kids even more.”

“You can't keep dwelling on it.” She said this several times.

She didn't even ask what Grace's name was. I'll never go back there again!

...and I never did.

There comes a point during this process that one realizes that it's necessary to avoid certain situations. We need to do what we feel is "safe". There may be only a handful of people that we feel "safe" around. For me, our home was my refuge. Nobody's well-meaning words were going to unintentionally hurt me when I was in my own home (as long as I didn't answer the phone). If I avoided others, the store, eye contact, then I could control my emotions...or so I thought. I eventually came to a point where I realized that there's absolutely no way that the pain or triggers can be avoided. I've learned to let them come, process them, and continue on...with God's help.

“The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him.” Nahum 1:7

A few family members attended her service. They came into town the day before and spent most of that day at our home. No one said a word about Grace. "Isn't that why they're here?" I thought. As we sat and talked about nothing, I would need to go to our bedroom every 10 minutes to cry, because I had to somehow release all of the tension. After I had some more time to process that day, I realized that there were just too many different personalities in one room. I know that everyone would have talked about what happened, but they just didn't know how to or when. For me, one-on-one usually works best and that day just wasn't the day to do it. I also laugh when I think about how all of us probably just needed to have a good cry, but when you come from my family, we refuse to show emotion in front of one another.

White Paper Bag

Nine weeks after Grace died, we received the phonecall from Vanderbilt saying that Grace's remains were ready to be picked up ~ a day that we were anticipating and dreading. I'll take you back to that day.It was Friday, July 23, 2010. Bob just got off shift from the fire department. To get home, he has to drive through Nashville and decided to stop at the County Clerk's office to see if he could get a copy of Grace's birth and death certificates. Bob was the self-appointed one who got to do the difficult tasks. (Although, I'm pretty sure that I was the one who appointed him to do those things. After all, he's the "strong one", right?) Obviously, I wasn't with him that day, so I don't know what he felt or experienced. I know that he had to drive to 2 different places for each certificate...really? Talk about dragging things out and making them even more difficult.

(The following was written later that day.) "I'm glad that Bob picked up these certificates, but it has to be wearing on him as well. Maybe it didn't seem to be at first. I think that Bob was able to, or trying to, block May 20 from his mind. At the time, this bothered me. Now looking back, I see that it was necessary. I couldn't have him falling apart when I couldn't control myself."

When he arrived home that morning, he handed me the certificates. The "slap in the face" came when I saw her birth certificate. The word DECEASED was stamped across it in big, bold, black letters. I wished that it didn't say that. Isn't that what her death certificate is for? Thankfully, I had already been made aware of this by a friend who also left the hospital without her newborn son. This was actually one thing that I was expecting and somewhat prepared for, but WOW! It still stung! At the moment, I can't recall what is printed on her death certificate for her cause of death.

Shortly after Bob arrived home with the certificates, we received the call. Thankfully, he answered the phone. It was Vanderbilt calling to tell us that Grace's remains were ready. He needed to schedule an appointment to "pick her up". Could we do it today or Monday? We decided, "Let's just do it today." After Bob hung up, he said that he had a feeling that they were going to call that day. He almost drove to Vanderbilt after picking up the certificates to see if "she was ready". We loaded up the girls in the van ~ the van we bought because we were outgrowing our car ~ and we headed to Nashville.

The last time I rode to Nashville was for my 6 week post-partum check...

It still makes me feel sick to my stomach each time I hear the word "Vanderbilt". Bob drives past the clinic where the doctor told us that we'd be having our baby "today" each time he goes to work. Four days after Grace was born, he drove me back there so I could have my staples removed. Six weeks later, he drove me to the same clinic for my post-partum check. The check-up where you are feeling on top of the world, carrying your 6 week old infant in his or her carseat. Except this time, our arms were empty. The waiting room had other parents with their newborns in tow. It was such a different experience for us this time. The doctor didn't even give me the usual examination that I had after our other 3 girls were born. All she asked me was, "Is your incision healing o.k.?" and "How is your mood?" I was dumb-founded and thought to myself as I cried, "So this is what this is...just a mood?"

This is what I wrote in my journal that day...July 23, 2010

We went to Vanderbilt this afternoon, together, as a family. We both cried on the way there. While we were driving in the van, I was watching all of the cars going by and wondering where they were going. We were going to bring our daughter's remains home from the hospital. Grace would get to ride in the van that we bought in December because we would be outgrowing the car in June. I'm not sure what Bob was thinking about, and I don't remember what I was thinking about either. We've been waiting for this day since they told us in the NICU that cremations are done every 3 months.

I wonder why we didn't decide to have a funeral for Grace right away in May. Were we just in complete shock and didn't know what to do? Was I thinking that if we had a funeral, we'd have to bury her in the ground in some cemetery in TN? Maybe God was just telling us to wait until we thought things through and a bit of the numbness and shock had worn off. Maybe our family and friends needed to see her body in a tiny coffin so they would believe that she was real. It doesn't pay to think about the “What ifs” and “If onlys”. We did what we felt was right for us at that moment.

There was nothing comforting about the experience of picking up Grace's remains. We all went to the basement of the hospital and we asked someone where we go to pick up remains. She wasn't sure. Then she stopped someone and asked where “cremains” are. Then they both said “cremains” a couple of more times. "This is our baby you're talking about." Eventually, we found our way to medical records down in a cold basement.

Bob told the receptionist that we were there to pick up some remains. I shouldn't keep making him do all of the hard things that I don't want to do. It was difficult for him to get the words out. There was no reaction from the receptionist. She called someone and had us wait. A lady took us back to her office. Bob signed a form, and she handed him a white gift bag and said, “Have a good night.” It was literally that quick. I couldn't look at her and walked away.

As our family walked through the hospital, Bob and I wondered if people knew. Did the employees know what we were carrying in this white paper gift bag? I couldn't make eye contact with anyone, but when Bob did, he felt as though some of them knew.

When we got in the van, Bob gave me the bag. I held it in my lap for a little while, then I took the dark, wooden, rectangular box out. Bob looked at me and I said that it felt better holding the box. 9 weeks and 1 day after God carried Grace to heaven, we carried her earthly remains out of the hospital in a white gift bag.

Our loss seems to be taking its toll on both of us. There are more tears coming from Bob. Tears are good to see, but it hurts me to see him sad and hurting. Lately, I think that I've been feeling worse. I'm having more dreams and not sleeping well. I wake up feeling sad, anxious, and uneasy. I don't remember details of my dreams, but I know that they involve my pregnancy, a baby, and  death.  July 23, 2010