Unexpected Blossoming

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Little one
When you arrived
You were like a little rosebud
Picked in the rain
Crinkled, crimson, vulnerable

And I was afraid
Time would tarnish you further

My heart quaked before seeing you again
And I felt terrible to be a mother afraid
To see her own child

The first night it was true
You were so cold
As if the frost had bitten your beauty
And your stillness was so solemn

I left you that night
Weeping and broken
With a sprig of baby’s breath
Clutched in your tiny fists

But when we returned
Two days later to visit you
Kindly laid out by the hospital chaplain
You were rosier
Your cheeks were fuller
Like the little rosebud
Had begun to unfurl

Such a mercy
Your three biggest sisters
Could find you lovely
Patting your cheek
Holding your tiny hands in theirs
Proudly having their picture taken with you
Their baby

They took turns leaving kisses
On your sweet face
One of the few gifts
You could take to Heaven

But the most beautiful day of all
Was the last one we saw you
At the funeral chapel

Our sweet funeral director Michelle
Suggested I help dress you
In the one dress you’ll wear forever
The one I searched the city for
And finally found in a little Italian shop
On the east side of town
Where the Italian grandmas embraced me
And exclaimed “Que bella, que bella!” at your photo

It was a fall baptismal dress
A cosy knitted one from Europe
With a matching sweater and booties
Creamy white with little bits of shiny pink
The last one in the store
Meant for you

So the day before your funeral
Michelle brought you to us
Carrying you in her arms
With the affection and tenderness of a mother
Wrapped in your cosy blanket
The warmest and softest one I could find

And, little rose, you were in bloom!
Your beauty was enchanting
You sparkled as Daddy held you close
And I even laughed and said
You were our little snow queen

You looked so real, so alive
So much like a little baby sleeping
That your grandmother
Meeting you for the first time
Couldn’t help rocking you back and forth
“My baby, my baby!”

So many came that day
All your five children siblings
Your two uncles
And one aunt
And our friend Fr. Uy
Who delivered your crown

You must have felt the affection
Poured on you as everyone took their turn
To hold you, our precious one
And I remember my brother Monti
The one who flew from Hawaii to be here for me
Saying as he held you, “She’s ok. She’s really ok.”

And as we crowned you with a tiny crown
Of yellow and white flowers
Laced with sparkles
And a tiny medal of our Lady
Hand sewn for hours that morning
By a woman from the parish we hardly knew
You, darling, simply glowed
Sharing with us
A tiny glimpse
Of the radiance of Heaven

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Why Adults Can’t Handle Fairy Tales

There are many adults who are afraid that kids can’t handle traditional fairy tales, because they are too scary, too gruesome, too awful. I think it’s actually because on a certain level, they are too real. And many of us adults can’t handle real life.

I used to wonder why fairy tales so often were about orphans, or kids whose one parent had died, leaving them in the hands of someone who despised them. Think Hansel and Gretel, Snow White or Rapunzel. Or why they had to fight evil beasts and monsters, like the dragon in Sleeping Beauty. But now I think I understand better why.

Fairy tales can help children realize that life is going to be full of challenges, that it will contain suffering, that sometimes they will feel rejected and alone. But it is also about the triumph of the little guy, the unexpected hero, like in Jack and the Beanstalk. It is about perseverance, guts and hope.

How necessary it is for us to have hope! To believe in the triumph of good over evil, and the certainly of justice, even if that justice is very long in coming.

But now we often prefer to sugar-coat these dramatic tales. We try to cover up the bad bits. “They will be too scary,” we think. Will they be any scarier than real life? How will our kids cope with that?

Our modern western world is so poorly equipped to deal with suffering, because we so seldom have to deal with it in a really dramatic way. We are generally comfortable, have food, shelter, clothes, etc. Not that many people we know are eaten by dragons. Not that many people we know die. So when they do it’s a shock.

It didn’t use to be this way. Not that long ago people knew that things like infant death were a common part of life. They accepted that they needed to work from dawn till dusk, and often be away from their families. They knew that an illness could steal away a loved one like a thief in the night. Now we like to pretend this can’t happen, at least not to us. “La, la, la, la, it’s not real,” we sing and cover our eyes to the possibility of such a loss.

But it’s a delusion. Life is very fragile. It is very precious. It is a gift that can be revoked at any time. Losing a baby in labour taught me this. And as crushing as this loss is, my little one also teaches me—shouts loudly in her silence—that it is of utmost importance to hope. To have faith in something greater than these struggles here below. To know that love is stronger than death. To know that happiness here is complicated, and that our true happiness is yet to come.

So when you feel overwhelmed, remember the fairy tales. Put on your knight’s costume, mount your steed, and ride off into the sunset to face your dragons. Even if they consume you, you will triumph, if you don’t lose hope. It’s that golden thread that connects us to Heaven. It’s our strength in weakness and pain.

And if you meet a weary traveller along the way, someone who is laden down with suffering, help them carry their burden. Offer your heart to help carry some of that weight oppressing theirs. Reach out and cheer them on. In your mercy, in your tenderness, in your affection, you will bring them hope. And the quest to bring more hope to a struggling world is surely an ideal noble enough for all of us.

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PS These gorgeous swords were lovingly handmade by my talented step-dad Rob Koenig!

The Mystery of Losing a Little One

Today I want to share with you an article I recently wrote about losing my little Josephine during labour. I’ve had a hard time doing much narrative about this event, and have mostly blogged poetry since it occurred, as it felt like a safer way to express myself somehow.

But I really felt called to share my experience and to reach out to other bereaved parents, so I was very pleased when the paper accepted my article. I’m posting the link to it in honour of a dear friend who lost her baby son three years ago today. Perhaps you can all send a little extra prayer her way. The pain of losing a little one comes and goes in waves, and I imagine it might be stronger again today. Honouring this in some way is part of healing.

The Mystery of Losing a Little One

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So to all bereaved parents, I send you my deepest condolences, and stand with you in your pain. May you know that your children are still an amazing gift, and that you have been for them not so much a place of death, as a gate to Heaven.

May our little stars shine forth with their pure, sweet light and ever guide us home.

Closer Than Ever

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The grass is still green
on this side of the world
The sun still shines red
through my eyelids

It warms my upturned face
as the fall leaves fall
with delicate grace

Children still laugh
and the birds still fly
Flowers open and close

You’re gone away
little one
but closer than ever

No longer does your heart
beat in my body
That quick little drum
has faded now

But now that you’ve gone
to be with the stars
you’ve ripped open my heart
exposed Heaven within and

I’ve found you
closer than ever
here in my soul

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Little Star

The stars go down
to rise upon some other shore,
and bright in Heaven’s jewelled crown,
they shine forever more.
John Luckey McCreery

One of the most exquisite gifts we received in honour of our baby Josephine’s passing was a star. I really mean it. My Uncle Dorn and Auntie Lenore had a star named after her. Because they figured we had enough flowers, and so that when the kids looked up into the sky, they could see her.

So, now and forevermore, there is a little shining star in the heavens named Josephine Pilar. Yes, this makes me cry, but with gratitude as well as sorrow. My beautiful, beautiful baby. My heart aches to be with you.

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Before whom the stars at their posts
shine and rejoice.
When He calls them, they answer, “Here we are!”
shining with joy for their Maker.
Baruch 3: 34

Signs of Sweetness

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Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
St. Thomas Moore

So many signs of tenderness continue to pour in, along with meals and assurances of prayers, as we grieve the sudden loss of our baby Josephine during labour three weeks ago. We are so blessed by these many signs of sweetness. Thank you to everyone who has shown us such generosity and support. God is finding so many ways to say “I love you” to us every day.
Here are pictures of a few:

Two dozen gorgeous pink roses sent to our door from a couple in our parish:
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A single perfect rose left anonymously at her grave:

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A plant for me to take care of, called a Josephine:

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All who have been touched by beauty are touched by sorrow at it’s passing.
Louise Cordana

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Lend me your hope for awhile. A time will come when I will heal, and lend my renewed hope to others.
Eloise Cole

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When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart. You shall see in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Khalil Gibran

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Josephine Pilar, our sweet little star, we are so grateful for you! We will love you forever!

Dull Ache

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Dull ache
like I’ve fallen flat on face
Grey skies
match my insides

It’s hard to talk
about her today
The pain throbs
in a delicate way
that won’t leave

I’m sitting here
eating Cheerios without cheer
My little ones laugh
and sing
but I don’t feel like doing a thing

Strange day
now that she’s gone away
The neighbourhood seems
empty and odd

Life’s going on
people bustling away
But I’m in this bubble
floating above
feeling lost
without my little love

Grey skies
match my insides
It’s gonna be awhile
till I find colour again
But in the mean time
I’m hoping for rainbows
looking for sun though my tears

Song of Longing for Little Ones

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United in grief we stand
here with our hearts in our hands
Walk with me pretty please
so I’m not alone
so I’m not alone

Reach through your pain
to touch mine
Let me heal yours
you heal mine

Together we’ll bear
this big weight
holding on tight
to ropes of grace

Let my tears
wash you clean
begin anew
to feel free

Love is strong
oh, so strong
It tramples death
with it’s song

“I am alive
forever alive
In your hearts
you know that’s right”

Our little ones sleep
but in peace
This is the joy
in our grief

Walk not alone
on this path
silently tread
so often before

Let my cry break
the prison of glass
that’s freezing your heart
that’s holding you back

Shout out your grief
let your heart thaw
In the warmth of the sun
things don’t feel so raw

Together we stand
united in grief
Love makes us whole
it makes us complete

Keep up your chin
sparkle a smile
You’ll see your little one
in a little while

Josephine

Josephine flashed before us
with the brightness and beauty
of a shooting star

Our hearts are broken by the briefness
of her visit with us

She has climbed onto our Father God’s lap
and is whispering to him our secrets
with sweet confidence
Speak to her in your hearts
the only language she will ever know is love

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