This should have been my due date

From: http://lightworkers.org/blog/126446/two-new-babies-born-heaven

Today, I wrote a letter to my child, on the day of his/her birth.  Somehow, I thought that **** would have been a boy, not sure why, but just a feeling.  A baby that had been prayed for, for a long time, a baby that was so desperately wanted.  I told * how much he was loved and missed each day and I pray that my words reach him via angels' wings - but for me, I just have another letter to put in *'s memory box.


Today should have been a day of happiness and laughter.  We should have been anxiously awaiting *'s birth.  I should have been able to hear * cry for the very first time, get to see his scrunched up little face and feel him in our arms, between our embrace.  Instead, it's three o'clock and I'm still in my PJ's, resting on the couch on this rainy and miserable March day, wiping away my tears.  Our home should have been bustling with activity and the cooing sounds of a baby, but the silence is deafening and it seems lonelier than most days.

From: www.beautyofthelord.com/a_letter_from_heaven.htm

I had hoped to make it out to the cemetery to lay some flowers at Our Mother's feet, but I'm achy today and the rain is making me stay home - Perhaps I'll make it out there tomorrow.  After all, it's not like * is actually there - he's at God's feet, surrounded by angels, his tiny little earthly body probably making it out to the lake or ocean, being one with God's nature.  I hope to drop a flower wreath into our river on his angelversary, but for today, we'll just remember our child, we'll have the small cake that I made for his Birthday, and we'll send our love and our hearts to him in heaven.


Last night, while we were at Ash Wednesday Mass, we sang the hymn Ashes, which I had never heard before.  Some of the lyrics were so profound that I had tears in my eyes, as I thought about the symbolism of the ashes and my own grief for *, I've highlighted the poignant parts:



We rise again from ashes,
from the good we've failed to do.
We rise again from ashes,
to create ourselves anew.
If all our world is ashes,
then must our lives be true,
An offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
          We offer You our failures,
          we offer You attempts;
          The gifts not fully given,
          the dreams not fully dreamt.
          Give our stumblings direction,
          give our visions wider view,
          An offering of ashes,
          An offering to You.
Then rise again from ashes,
let healing come to pain;
Though spring has turned to winter,
and sunshine turned to rain.
The rain we'll use for growing,
and create the world anew,
From an offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
          ... Thanks be to the Father,
          who made us like Himself.
          ... Thanks be to His Son,
          who saved us by His death.
          ... Thanks be to the Spirit,
          who creates the world anew,
          From an offering of ashes,
          An offering to You.

From: http://www.1freechurch.org/Forms/child-dedication.htm

I visited the page for I Spoke With My Child - it's been a while since I'd been there.  I imagined that this was a conversation I could have with *.  I broke down again.  All the pain of the last months, all that missing, all that loneliness and all the love flooded over me and I cried again with unending tears.  You will always be loved and missed...never forgotten.

Today, Lent begins

From: http://between2cities.wordpress.com/2010/02/17/ash-wednesday/

Today is Ash Wednesday, which for a Catholic like me, is the beginning of the Lenten season, the approximately 40 days prior to Easter when we reflect on the last days of our Lord, Jesus Christ.  Traditionally, this is a very sad time, with no loud parties, no dancing, no drinking. Although we don't have to attend mass service tonight, I'm looking forward to going, listening to the priest give a homily which is meant to introduce us to the Lenten Season, and receive ashes, which traditionally used to be from burned palms from Palm Sunday.  The priest uses the phrase from Ecclesiastes "You are from dust and to dust you shall return".  It's just a reminder of how fleeting life really is and tonight will serve as the mass for my unborn child, whose due date would have been tomorrow.


Ash Wednesday, in our family, was the start of many days of fasting.  Our parish bulletin included the following explanation "Fasting means eating only one full meal with our other two meals not equal to that one meal. While making us more aware of those in need, fasting also makes us more alert in our prayer. A generous heart allows us to think less of our needs and more of the needs of others, resulting in practical action and giving".  As a child, I remember fasting and what a challenge it was - these days, it's no big deal for me to skip lunch and just have a normal dinner.  Growing up, I remember that meatless Fridays extended year round, as we always tried to skip the meat at the end of the week, which was not only religious, but also pretty healthy and our hearts thank us!

From:  http://www.dpcdsb.org/BSCAL

This Lent, I plan to not only fast, give and pray, but also to make it a spiritual journey for exploring my relationship with God.  I hope that I can remain steadfast in my attempt to be kind to others, do my best to see their point of view, read the scripture daily (you might recall I had tried that at the start of the New Year, and when troubles came at the end of January, this habit dropped by the wayside), abstain from swearing at home (as I never do in public) and limit my sweet intake.  I say 'limit', as I won't be able to give up sweets completely as I made a little cake for our angel's birthday tomorrow, and there will be sweets at Freddie's birthday on Sunday, then my mom's birthday in April, so I won't be antisocial.  But I give up sweets each year and am able to do it.  This year, being kind to others and reading the Bible are the most important things for me.  To delve further into my own faith, attend Lamentations or Stations of the Cross and perhaps even try to do this weekly.  I know that that will be a struggle, but Christ suffered and struggled so much for us, that I'd like to do a little in return.


Tonight, as I attend mass at the Cathedral, I will think about the journey ahead of Christ, which will end in His crucifixion and death - I will think about what Christ must have felt at the impending path ahead - I will think of what God felt to know that His child would die, and I feel that I understand those feelings much more than before.  I have a much better appreciation of God's love for us now, knowing how much pain it cost Him to lose His only son.  I know that pain too.  As the priest puts ashes on my forehead tonight, I'll feel closer to those who have gone before me and allowed me to be a Christian openly - those early Christians who often paid with their lives for our religious freedom, for those family members who are now dust, and of course of our child.  The shining light at the end of this journey is Easter and the celebration of Christ's resurrection - a constant reminder that death is not permanent, that there is life beyond death and that we will all be with God someday.  This has brought me a lot of peace lately and decreased my fear and anxiety about death.  Death was something to be feared and avoided, but now I see it as an opportunity to be with my child once again, to see this child and get to know him/her - to finally be together, to finally be complete.


So as we embark on this approximately 40 day journey - what are your plans?