This blog title is different from the one I originally planned. Originally I planned on calling it "Miscarriage of Injustice." Last night one of my cousins gave birth to a little girl, Tristin, who was only 22 weeks old. Tristin lived just a short hour and then returned to the place she had so recently left. When I first heard about this, I was upset and spent a lot of time reflecting on the injustices women have to suffer in this life: abuse, neglect, oppression, discrimination, miscarriages, infertility and the list goes on. But things have happened since then that have softened my point of view.
In our religion, we do not baptize babies. We believe they are innocent and saved through the atonement of Christ. We do, however, give them a name and a blessing in an official priesthood ordinance. So last night David and my brother Erik, who is named after my cousin's dad, went to the hospital to bless this little girl. (I couldn't go because Baylie was asleep.) My brother blessed Tristin that her short life would always serve as a reminder to her parents that they needed to live good lives so they could return to live with her again someday. David told me that he thinks little babies like this come to Earth just to get a body. They quickly return to God because they are special spirits and don't have anything else to prove in this life. I think both of those thoughts are beautiful and comforting. But the most beautiful part was performed by a complete stranger.
There is a woman at the hospital who takes care of these special spirits. She took little Tristin and lovingly washed her. Then she dressed her in a beautiful, embroidered dress that had been made by someone in the community. She took pictures of her, made little molds of her hands and feet, placed the items in a beautiful box together with a preemie diaper and other keepsakes. I wish I knew this woman. I wish I could throw my arms around her and thank her for the selfless love she showed at such a difficult time.
I went to visit my cousin today. I was shocked by her positive, calm attitude. She was handling everything so well. I'm sure she has moments of grief and I'm sure there are many moments ahead, but it was obvious that she was being blessed with calm and peacefulness.
I had to pick up a styrofoam cooler for her to pack with ice and take her little girl home in. I bought some cute little socks for Tristin. They'll be way too big for her, but they were the smallest I could find. I then found a blanket that my mother had made and crocheted around with pink thread. I was glad that even though Tristin would be placed in such a cold, impersonal container for her journey back to southern Utah, she would be wrapped in a beautiful dress and a hand-made blanket. That's when the title to my blog posting changed. I realized that my heart had been deeply touched by this little girl who only lived an hour. I was touched by the love that surrounded her and that was shown by people I don't even know.
As I post this, I look at a plant that sits on my desk. It was given to me by my coworkers when I had my miscarriage. This plant has been through a lot and sometimes I don't know how it survives, but I love it. It's a reminder of love shown to me at a very difficult time.
Our little baby was only eight weeks old when I lost it. We had heard the heart beat, and even though it was very small and we didn't know if it was a girl or a boy, it was very real to us. The night I miscarried was the hardest night of my life - physically and emotionally. David slept through it and he still feels guilty about this. I'll never forget how after it was over I slid into the tub and just soaked until the water turned cold. I still vividly remember placing the little cocoon-shaped object into a Wal Mart grocery bag to take it to the doctor - where I was surrounded by happy, pregnant women. I remember not wanting to be around people or out in public. Many people were just learning I was pregnant and would congratulate me only to have me tell them we had lost the baby, an uncomfortable experience for everyone. I remember going to see "Signs" and "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" at the end of that week. I remember sitting in the dark feeling sheltered because no one could see me in my grief, and I was grateful for two wonderful movies that let me forget for an hour or two that I hurt.
I'm still not sure why women have to suffer so much. But I am sure that it is the middle of our greatest suffering that we rise up to serve and love one another. No one knows the pain of a woman except another woman. Even a loving husband doesn't really understand what it's like to go through what we do. I love the great women in my life and I especially love the women who quietly serve others without any thought for recognition or acknowledgement. Today I'm resolving to be more like them.
So thanks, Tristin, for your sweet, short life and for the influence you've had on mine.
The knitted head scarf Baylie is wearing is another item that I wore as a girl. I love that we share these things.
