No two miscarriages are exactly alike, but these weren't terribly different. And, once again, I felt God's presence very closely throughout. Our Lady of Guadalupe was also instrumental in this pregnancy, just as she was last year. This time I got the positive test on her feast day.
We were also again blessed by the help of loved ones. We were lifted in prayer by friends and family around the country. And despite living in a new town where we know practically no one, we were still brought several meals. One generous friend came by to help with the kids and cook us dinner. And another out-of-town friend sent pizza delivery long distance and arranged for her family members who live nearby to bring us food. I was blown away by the kindness, and on a practical level it was just plain helpful. And, by the way, if anyone reading this knows someone who is miscarrying now or in the future, send them food. Just do it. Even if they throw it away, they will know they are loved.
Today was the burial service. We traveled back to Richmond for it, and Francis Mary was laid to rest just a few plots down from his (or her) sibling. What a beautiful ministry the Knights of Columbus offer. I wish all families had such an opportunity for burial - a ceremony to help with grief, the acknowledgment that your child was real and matters, a place to come visit.
No one will ever replace their siblings who aren't with us. Theirs is a void that will always be present.
So we go on (with me, in the short-term, dreading the due date of course) and we remember. I hate miscarriage, but I love my babies. And I'm thankful they were here at all.
