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Back to Church…

Last night after work, I went to church.  For those that have read this site, I’m not exactly a church-going kind of guy. Half of my family is Catholic, although many rarely step inside of a church; the other half doesn’t really practice any kind of religion.  So last night’s trip to church, wasn’t really “to go to church”, in the sense that people go there to hear gospel, to pray and to get something out of it.  Last night, I went for a memorial.

It all began 3 or 4 months ago when a former co-worker emailed me to let me know that his wife was expecting.  The road to parenthood had been rough and windy—they miscarried their first attempt—but with some help they’d managed to not only produce one, but four little miracles.  He was over the top with joy, but also cautious because of what happened previously.  I expressed my happiness and well wishes.

Last month, he emailed me again, letting me know that they’d found out that they’d be having two boys and two girls, along with the names.  They were halfway through the process and the babies were developing perfectly.

Earlier this week, another former coworker sent me an email letting me know that all four of the babies had died at the five month mark and that a memorial would be held on Friday.  Of course, I’d attend.

Entering the church, I ran into a number of my former officemates and caught up on things.  I also spent some time chatting with the former parents-to-be and consoled as best I could.  It’s tough.  They went from the highest high to now, the lowest low.  She still looked pregnant—a shell with nothing inside.  On the alter there was a certificate with four sets of tiny footprints and a photo of the four five-month old babies side by side.

Afterwards, they had a reception that I opted not to go to. I think eventually they’ll be fine, but it’s going to take some time to heal. People take for granted that having a baby is just about having some sex and popping out a kid 9-months later.  And some people understand that it’s not always that easy.

The more people I talk to, the more I realize that there are a lot of people out there that are having a hard time conceiving a kid.  A former neighbor of my mom’s tried for years before finally giving up—a few months later they got pregnant at nearly 40 years old.  Other friends we’ve chatted with have said they aren’t having any luck.  And even Wifey™ and I haven’t had any luck.  And a family friend’s son’s wife, just miscarried their second.

A lot of people are trying and not having luck. And last night’s memorial service was one example of a couple desperate to be parents and unable to get them through the earliest stages of their lives, through no fault of their own.

We sat in the church listening to the pastor talk about we should be celebrating the fact that these babies would be angels with God and all I could think was, does that really console a grieving family? I mean, that certainly wouldn’t make me feel any better.  I certainly wouldn’t be celebrating that my babies died.  Maybe it’s the whole “believing in God” thing.  Who knows.

I found the cruelest twist to be hearing all of the babies and small children that had been brought to this memorial service. Part of me felt it to be inconsiderate to bring your baby to a memorial like this. One young lady was even pregnant, herself. Putting myself in the shoes of the couple that just lost their foursome, I might feel some resentment against all of these people with healthy kids.

I guess it’s just luck of the draw. For some people, making babies comes second nature and for some it doesn’t come at all.  You just have to hope that the people having the kids appreciate it and understand that it’s not always a given.

Tags: babies, miscarriage, children, memorial

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