10/06/2024
Mom wrote this many years ago... most of you know my older sister died before I was born. She's always been my silent partner :). Grab the tissue
Event from February 4, 1956 Written on September 2, 1963
It was the morning of the day before our first Wedding Anniversary. Our first child was due at any time. What a wonderful Anniversary gift that would be; And then my labor pains started. We called the Doctor; my husband rushed me to the hospital and in a little less than four hours, it was all over.
I awoke from the anesthetic to find my doctor and my husband standing by my bed. With ever so much gentleness, my doctor told me, “Your baby daughter has died.” Then he left and my husband and I were alone. There are no words to say to each other at a time like that. You just look at each other and love each other and comfort each other silently.
Finally I broke the silence and asked him what had happened.
I had seen the baby alive one time and she looked so perfect. But as I think back, I can remember it took her a long time to breathe and I can remember the Doctor asking for oxygen. I can vaguely remember someone saying, “I baptize thee.”
My husband told me that something was wrong with her lungs; that oxygen was administered from the moment of her birth. A funnel attached to a rubber hose which was attached to the oxygen tank was put over her face to assist her in breathing because the regular face mask was much too large. But to no avail. She just couldn’t breathe on her own. My husband had the agony of watching her fight for life, every breath a tortuous effort for her underdeveloped lungs.
She lived 1 hr. 29 min.
Upon our request, Sister brought our daughter to us. She looked like any sleeping new-born, so peaceful and quiet. But we had to realize that she was asleep forever. She wouldn’t awake in a little while and cry to be fed or changed. We would not be taking this baby home. God had already taken her to her heavenly home.
My husband and I held our child; this infant we had conceived, felt move and kick while growing within me, this expression of our love for each other. We looked at her little body, so perfectly formed outwardly, at her long curly black hair,
Her little fingers and feet, her nose so like her father’s and at her little chest where no heartbeat. Where there had been life for such a short time, there was life no more.
We consented to have an autopsy performed. We reasoned that it would help save some other life. And we wanted to know what had happened to our baby. The autopsy showed that one of her lungs had not developed at all and the other partially-developed one was full of cysts. Also, her heart was enlarged and out of place. It was one of those malformations in so many many thousand. We had no warning. I had had a perfectly normal pregnancy and delivery. It was all so unexpected.
But life goes on and plans had to be made for her interment. A small funeral service was held by our Parish Priest and she was buried on my father’s plot in what was to have been her Baptismal dress. My husband and I could not be together when she was laid to rest because I was still hospitalized. But our thoughts were united and our sorrow shared.
Father came to the hospital to talk to me, to help me overcome this heartache and loss. He reminded me of God’s goodness and generosity. He reminded me that we were the parents of a saint; that our daughter was at this moment looking at the face of God and waiting for us to join her when our life’s work is done. He helped so much, this man of God. With his words of wisdom, he rekindled my trust in God.
But still my empty arms ached when I saw a baby the age ours would be; when I packed away the tiny garments, my maternity clothes; when salesmen would call to sell insurance or baby items (they could save a lot of people a lot of sorrow if they would check the results of those newspaper lists before using them); or someone would unknowingly say, “How is your baby?”.
Then my mother received a letter from a friend of hers, offering condolences and one line of that letter remains with me to this day. “God works in many ways, His miracles to perform.”
I pondered on that sentence. I wondered what miracle God could hope to perform by taking our baby. At the time, I could see no miracle that might be worked because of our loss. What good did it do anyone to take our child?
Now, almost eight years later, we can see God’s wisdom.
Our baby lived, was baptized and died. She returned to her Maker pure and unscathed. She missed the world’s contagion. She is one of the Innocents. She is our personal intercessor to God in Heaven. Anyone who believes in God must also believe in the power of prayer. What better prayer can there be than from the lips and heart of a child was has never known sin. So many blessings have been bestowed on this family since our Angel Saint has gone to her eternal Home.
It was not easy to lose our first-born: to accept God’s decision. But God never sends a trial or burden without sending the grace and help to overcome it. All we need do is be able to say and mean, “Thy will be done”.
We now have two fine, healthy, active boys, aged 6 and three. They both know about their little sister Saint who lives in Heaven with God. They know that she is a part of our family and that we will all be together someday.
We all know that she is there waiting for us to come Home.
