Arthur

Thoughts on Grief

“I spent so much time in worry. So little time in excitement.

‘How am I going to fit six people in a 2 bed 1 bath townhouse?’

‘How am I going to feed one more mouth?’

I was so rushed. So hurried. So worried.

I barely got to talk to my baby.”

I held my head in my hands as my father drove us up the parkway.

It was Mother’s Day. Instead of being pampered, my bride was being poked and prodded in a hospital chair. And our baby was dead.

I wish I told him I loved him more. Wish I told him about his brothers through his Mother’s belly. Wish I went to the ultrasound appointments, so I could see him one time while his heart was still beating.

We drove in bouts of silence, then tears. I oscillated between disbelief and crushing despair.

---

The doctor’s told us the baby died weeks ago. We had no idea.

“We can do this as an outpatient procedure or you can deliver this baby tonight.”

Rebekah was reeling.

“I can’t imagine just going into a doctor’s office pregnant, and leaving not pregnant. Knowing it destroyed my baby’s body.”

She decided to deliver him. I am so glad she did. We wanted to honor his body; his body is sacred. His precious hands. His little feet. All 5 inches of him are holy.

She put her body through pain and suffering to protect his. All so we could hold him. So we could sing to him. So we could pray over him. If only for a moment.

---

The birth was as sudden as that dreadful news. At 2:23 in the morning, he came into this world. This cruel and unjust world. He was too precious for it.

---

They put him in a little basket. And gave him a littler blanket.

He looked so small in such a large crib.

I held that basket close to my chest. Like I would have held a swaddled newborn. And I wept. And wept. And wept.

“You would have loved your brothers” I told him.

“Ben is so protective. He is the leader of the pack. He would have taught you so much and taken good care of you.

Sammy is so sweet and gentle, he would have adored his baby brother. He would have made that face he makes; it would have made you giggle.

Eli is a blast, you two would have rolled around and had so much fun. A couple of bear cubs.”

….

“I am so sorry you won’t get to meet them.”

---

I wanted to hold him. Yet I couldn’t bear to. I wanted to talk to him. But I could barely speak. I was eager to take a break; just to stretch my legs. Yet hated to say good bye. I felt my time was precious and dreadful.

---

I watched Rebekah suffer in a way I could not comfort. I watched her endure the sorrow of labor without the joy of birth. I watched her disappear into shock, only to return by way of mourning.

She kept looking at him. I couldn’t bear to look. She is stronger than I. I hated to see her so fragile.

I told her to sleep when the pain grew too great. Her face was all tightened in knots. Her beautiful face was tightened in knots.

I kept stroking her hair. Kissing her head.

The knots gave way to a smile.

“I can feel the presence of Jesus.”

And she slept.

---

How can you hold your whole world in your hands and watch it fade away? How can you cradle your very heart in your palms and not be shattered?

They wheeled him out of our hospital room and I said goodbye to my heart, cradled in a little basket.

---

How can I call funeral homes and memorial grounds? Like this is something administrative to be organized. There is no sense in this. No logic. Only loss that words are too thin to carry.

---

Dear Arthur,

We love you. We take comfort knowing you are at rest in the presence of our blessed Savior. I envy you. You have known no sorrow, only joy. You have known no pain, only peace. Though our world is shattered, yours is whole. I am so excited to meet you one day.

I miss you baby bear.

Dad