My Eclectic Miscarriage Soundtrack-- Ennio Morricone--The Mission

My Dad came to visit me last weekend. He bought me a new Yo Yo Ma CD, because cello music does such great things for my soul. On the CD, Yo Yo Ma plays a duet from the movie, "The Mission." I heard the oboe solo and I thought "That's Leo." The purity of Leo's life, the shortness and the sweetness, is expressed in this song.

Katy Perry --Roar

During the miscarriage wait, I was callously making fun of Katy Perry outfit on Saturday Night Live until she sang the lyric about "Louder than a Lion!" I changed my tune and said "That's my Leo!" Every time I started to get anxious about my ability to handle Leo's death, I'd sing this song to myself.

HAIM - The Wire (Official Audio)

My Eclectic Miscarriage Soundtrack--

This chorus--"I know, I know you're going to be okay anyway" was perfect for sing inside my head during the long two wait for my miscarriage to happen.

My Miracle Trio

 

I had secondary infertility for 3 years. I informally divided my family along that fault line of pain into "the big kids" (Hannah, Alex and Maria) and "the little kids" (Tess and Abigail). The death of two sons seven years apart has reframed my family. I now see these three girls as my miracle girls. My miracle trio.

Jon and I like to joke that "We're making up for China" when people are surprised at how many girls we have in our family. Yet its deeper than that. It's deeper than feminism--though girls do rock! My girls are a reminder of what happens when I put my heart back on the line after heartache.

I took a picture of Leo's little casket in front of the alter. Then I turned around and saw my family all lined up in a single church pew. There was something about the sunlight and the stain glass windows. This image hit my soul and I took a second picture. It's amazing that with all our faulty genes, my husband and I have still filled up half a church pew.

Leo's Funeral Mass

This is my family clowning around outside of church before Leo's Funeral Mass. It's impossible for us to take a serious family portrait no matter how somber the occasion. I'm preparing myself for my son Alex to do bunny ears during every one of his college graduation photos. 

Leo Benjamin July 2013-October 2013

 

"You were held your whole life."

Leo Benjamin, son of Jon and Abigail Benjamin, died during pregnancy. Leo was delivered at 10:30 AM, October 19, 2013, at Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Spring, MD. Leo is survived by his parents and his five siblings, Hannah, Alexander, Maria, Teresa, and Abigail Clare. A Funeral Mass for Leo will be held at St. Joseph's Catholic Church at 10 AM on October 26, 2013 with a private burial following the service.


"The Lord gives, the Lord takes. Blessed be the name of the Lord, forever." (Job 1:21).

Goodbye to our mighty lion! Mom and Dad will miss you.

It is well with my soul

Miscarriage Notes, Part 6

Tomorrow is the funeral. Whew! I've gone from totally dreading it, to being semi-okay with it. It will be very small--just our immediate family and our parish priest. I didn't even let the organist come. We'll be singing the hymns a cappella in the church. Picking out the hymns was the only part I liked about the funeral planning process. Father Eric and I picked "It is well with my soul" as the recessional hymn.

How to Help a Child Deal With the Grief of A Miscarried Sibling

A reader asked me how to help siblings deal with their grief over a miscarriage. I don't have any answers. I thought instead that I'd share a poem that my 10 year old daughter, Hannah, wrote moments after I came home from the hospital.

My Dear Little Brother
     by Hannah Benjamin

Eyes that may have been blue.
Hair that I think was black too.
Sad that we never met.
But I feel like I know you so well.

I know that you are looking down on us.
Tall and strong, but not enough.
My dear little brother,
I love you so much.

Miscarriage Notes, Part 6

Wednesday, "Hump Day."

Yesterday was tough. I signed the final contract for Leo's cemetery plot. Then I marked my son's grave. My stomach clenched when the funeral director said "Our final task today is to flag your son's grave."

It took a long time to buckle my two little girls into their car seats and drive to the "Babyland" part of the cemetery. While I was doing that familiar task, I felt self-doubt. I sort of started a mental argument with God. "I totally understand why people don't bury miscarried babies. Leo's so little. If he was full term and five pounds, I'd have to do something serious with his body inside an actual graveyard. But right now, this is sort of optional. It feels like I'm signing up for extra pain. Why am I being an idiot about this?"

God is crazy. That's what I believe as a Carmelite. His ways are not my ways. I walked to Leo's grave site. I saw a specific spot marked out with four green flags waving in the wind at the corner. I felt better. Immediately ahead of his grave was a freshly dug hole covered with flowers and a Winnie-the-Pooh bear. I asked how old the baby was. "He was really old. I think two."

"Okay," I thought. "That's your neighbor, Leo." I said a quick mental prayer for that family. Then the funeral director and I talked pragmatic stuff about Leo's grave stone. They were really cheap. The funeral home even offers a monthly payment plan. For less than the cost of diapers for an extra baby, in a few months we can get Leo a stone.

I felt good. We are going to get Leo a stone. My family can come here to this exact spot to pray. I more comfortable. I could better picture what it would be like to bury him at the funeral. I had a plan in place for after the funeral, too.

The director gave me a yellow flag. It had the name L. Benjamin and the date of his funeral. She handed it to me. I stabbed it in the muddy ground in the center of the invisible box marked with four green flags. I watched his name flutter in the wind. Then I turned and walked back to my car.

This grief is like body surfing in the ocean. Really bad. Followed by Feeling Okay. Sometimes even Feeling Good. It's tough not to rush ahead. I keep thinking "I've got this. I've got this." Then I crash mentally. Then I get humbled and think "This is really hard."

God is crazy.  Yet he's got my hand. This is his healing process. I'd like to fast-forward to "Feeling great all the time post-miscarriage." I'm slowly catching on that the fastest way to feeling true peace is to take a long hard look into all the hard stuff. Death is messy. Death is uncomfortable. Looking death straight in the face without fear  is the true capstone of our Christian Faith.

Today is Hump Day. There will be more hardwork to come.

John Paul II Singing Dynamite (Autotune the Church Ep 1)

Miscarriage Notes, Part 5

Me, 26 1/2 hours into labor. I'm looking a little rough.

Jon, Moments Before We Got the All Clear to Go Home

You might not think this picture is sexy, but I do. There is nothing sexier than a man who calmly sits through 27 hours of labor with his wife, without even the consulation prize of a sweet, living newborn to take home. I chose very wisely when I said yes to this man's marriage proposal!

Miscarriage Notes, Part 5

This photo was taken at 4 PM on Friday, before I really started a strong labor. The priest walked into my room, pointed his finger at me and said "I know you!" I said "I know you too!" This is Father Cashmir, a missionary from Nigeria. He baptized my Tess in the NICU three years ago.

Right before this moment we had a prayer service. We prayed something from Catholic Mass book that had a long verse from Lamentations. I need to find that verse because it was very powerful. It talked about having trouble praying to God in sorrow and said "I've lost my future, Lord." That really hit me in my gut.

That is what the grief of miscarriage is to me. A loss of my future. It didn't matter in that moment that I had 5 beautiful living kids, a happy marriage, or a sweet life in a cute house. Leo's death meant that I lost a specific dream of my future. I lost the chance at a loving relationship with a new son. I lost the chance to hold him as a newborn,to ruffle his hair when he visited us from college, and watch him walk out my front door to play golf with his Dad at age 45. In that prayer service, I gave myself permission to mourn Leo for a few seconds as if I had lost an only child. Leo's future life with me was that irreplacable.

Afterwards, I felt great. That's always strange with God. I take a moment to truly pray. I let myself feel all my emotions. Then I feel a peaceful release. After the prayer service Father Cashmir sat calmly by my bedside and talked about his credit card debit. Three years ago, that would have shocked me. That day I took it in stride. I thought "Yeah, that is how holy people roll. One moment your deeply praying the words of the Old Testament, and then you're back joking about the trials of ordinary life."

Miscarriage Notes, Part 4

This Butterfly was placed outside my hospital door. It let everyone know that our baby had died. As a result, I had the most wonderful talks with everyone who entered my room. Everyone, housekeeping staff, room service, etc. That soft signal turned my room into a safe emotional space.

Whenever I saw the butterfly on the hospital doors of rooms around mine, it was a sign for me to pray intensely for the parents inside that room.

Birthday Sillies

 

Birthday Boy

Happy 9th Birthday Alex! You are a star!

My Jockey

Tess lived on this ride during our 3 hours at Chuck E Cheese

Not that beautiful Tess doesn't give Abigail a run for the money. (I've decided that a messy cake face is sign of good baking. "It's so good, I can't stop to use my napkin!")