One week earlier we got to see our little one, but in circumstances that left us feeling much different. At 10 weeks along baby only measured 7 weeks. The ultrasound tech was silent the whole time as he measured baby and attempted to over and over to get any sign of a heartbeat. There wasn't one. Our sweet little James was born the next day.
Yesterday, instead of going to our ultrasound, we drove to the church I grew up in, the church we met and married in. We sat surrounded by our family while the priest reminded us that life begins at conception and that our little one was still a life, if only briefly. That James still had a soul and was now in Heaven. The girls keep saying, "Mama Mary is snuggling our baby now." Yes, my sweet girls, his Mama Mary is holding him until we can in Heaven.
We drove to the cemetery and left him there. My mama had gotten a little solar light to place over him. His sisters left it there are a nightlight for their baby brother.
Grief is hard. Everyone handles it differently, and as the adult trying to help littles navigate their own grief while also dealing with my feelings it's been even more difficult. I'm glad they've found some light. As sad and angry as they were when we first told them, they've found some happiness in knowing that he's in Heaven. They seem to find solace in the image of Mama Mary holding their baby brother. That child-like view is exactly what I want to cling to. This wasn't my plan. I wanted to he the one to hold my baby, to cuddle him and give him kisses. But that wasn't God's plan. So now we move forward, knowing, as St. Zelie Martin said, that "we shall find our little ones again up above."
