O Little Flower Who Grew from Love

Our daughter, Sarah Emily had she lived would be celebrating her 40th birthday tomorrow. I want to honor her. Here is a post I wrote four years ago about the experience of losing a daughter.

In this sculpture from the Chicago Art Institute, the people are mourning a dead baby

One of the most painful experiences of my life was the loss of a daughter that I only knew inter utero. 'Stillborn and borne still in my heart', even writing that phrase makes my solar plexus ache - it is literally physical. Yet this happened to us over thirty five years ago.  Long ago I wrote this poem to describe this small but very significant death.

Fine Bones 

The finest bones in all the world,
I've held next to my heart.
The longest walk I ever took
was with those bones.
The lightest package I ever carried
 weighed the most: snow encased in lead.
Up a mossy knoll I trudged with my true love
 and that tiny package filled with cremated dreams.

Down to the cold water's edge we crawled
 to throw a piece of our life away,
 on the tide
 we tossed all that remained
 of our beloved baby still-born
 yet borne still in our hearts.

We believed inside that box -- a powder, a talc
 so fine it would swirl like smoke into the heavens.
Instead we encountered sad orange chunks-
 bones amidst the ash.
We decided she was made of sterner stuff,
 Joan d'Arc
 who resisted the flame.
I writhed, sobbed and shook
 so human in my rejection
 of this noble philosophy.

Even now, can she hear my sorrow
 that gathers on the dark side of my heart?
After all these years, in my mind
 those perfect fingers and toes
 still glow, rosy round.
You have such fine bones, Sarah Emily.

Nothing in my life of 28 years had prepared me for this death. I had miscarriages prior to this but carrying a baby girl, a very wanted baby girl, full term and have her born dead was indescribably painful. Many have walked this path, most commonly in foreign third world countries. I had not encountered anyone until after March 28th, 1975. Then the women and a few men came forward to share their sorrows and losses of children. It is indeed a club that you do not ever want to be included in. However I welcomed the people who were brave enough to greet and stand by me and my husband in our pain. Some friends could not, would not acknowledge us and of course there were the poor misguided who brushed this aside as no more painful than the loss of a pet. I am not sure to this day which is worse: being blown off or completely shunned.

There is so little to write about the baby herself, I was urged by the Dr. to not look at her and now I know how foolish that was because my husband did and said she was beautiful. It pays to be disobedient sometimes. What I do know is that she had grossly compromised kidneys and that my body had set up an attack akin to what the babies go through that become "blue babies" [RH factor]. This was not an easy pregnancy and I knew from two successful pregnancies that something was definitely wrong. I kept at the Doctors and they kept reassuring me that all was well, though they were troubled by my exhaustion and water retention. Sadly, at that time our hospitals didn't test for the "Kell factor". Unwittingly and innocently my husband and I created this blood problem for the tiny astronaut inside of me. We are beyond fortunate to have the two healthy gorgeous sons [and now four healthy wonderful grandchildren] that we have.

I have had a few dreams of Sarah Emily and they are always peaceful and lovely. Like her, like her short life, she lives in my heart.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2015 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved.