I delivered our sweet baby girl on Friday, March 18, 2016.
Right in between St. Patrick and St. Joseph's feast days, you'll find what for us will always be Gianna Cecilia's day.
When I faced this the first time, with our son Benedict, I had only found out the day before that he had died, and the entire process felt like an assault. God was there with us, I could feel Him, but the only verse that kept coming to my mind was, "When you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go." (Jn 21:18)
Although I still had to do something I did not want to do, with Gianna's birth, everything was slower and more gentle. I smiled interiorly at the thought that I could tell the difference between the birth of my son, named for two male saints, and my daughter, named for two women saints. Not that I didn't experience God's grace and presence, and prayers, during Benedict's birth. But during Gianna's birth, I felt like those two saints' prayers were with me in the little things, in the kind of things women would think about, even down to the nurse bringing me a chicken salad with dried cranberries when I was finally able to eat. She had just finished telling me there probably wouldn't be any decent options, and expressed her surprise that the meal actually looked good. For someone who hadn't really eaten in a day or so, it was very good!
I was surprised and deeply moved by the mementos given to us at the hospital--things made by other moms who also have lost babies. We got a beautiful teddy bear and knit blanket, which honestly helped me sleep much better throughout my time there. We got a very pretty basket full of a mug and tea, a journal and a pen, Kleenex, flower seeds, and a note saying two women donated the box in memory of their babies Miriam, Josiah, and Luke. I cannot express the comfort that box brought me.
We also received a beautiful rosary made by students at a local Catholic school, for families going through such a loss. The card it came with listed the spiritual and corporal works of mercy, which reminded me that we are in the midst of the Jubilee of Mercy. Not only have I been called to share God's mercy this year, but clearly I also have been called to receive it. Through our suffering, those students were able to "comfort the afflicted." My parents and my friend bringing us dinner tonight have been able to "feed the hungry" (and "comfort the afflicted" as well).
Gianna's actual birth also was more gentle than Benedict's. However, the experiences of holding each of them are very similar in my mind. They are among the most sacred and holy moments of my life. I am in awe of the beauty of God's handiwork that I have seen expressed in each of my children. With Gianna and Benedict though, we knew our moments to actually hold them would be so brief, and there was a special quietness and beauty and a knowledge of God's presence that I don't think I have experienced in that way at any other time in my life.
For quite a long time, I was able just to hold my daughter close to my heart. It felt so simple and obvious, "Yes, I am her mother, and this is where she belongs." We were able to tell her how much we loved her. We were able to pray over her. We will always be her parents, but for a short while, we were able to be her parents in a physical way.
I am so thankful to the medical professionals who honored the preciousness of these moments, and who brought so much reverence and awe to their time helping us as well.
We will lay Gianna to rest at the Angelus Memorial, with Benedict. He was buried wrapped in a handkerchief from his great-grandparents. This time, the hospital gave us a beautiful sleeping bag, also made by a mother who has experienced a similar loss. The inside was a beautiful pink satin, and the outside was a softer pink material, with some pearl-like beads sewn onto the top. It was so comforting to know we could wrap her in there, and she can be laid to rest in something so beautiful that also was made with much love.
Every nurse was supportive, gentle, and so caring. I chose a different doctor and hospital for this pregnancy, based on what I perceived to be my higher risk (because of my age and other factors) and simply because I felt like God was leading me to choose this doctor, who is very pro-life, and very experienced. I believe I definitely benefited from his experience, and from the compassion of the nurses who work with him. I don't think I can express my gratitude enough.
I still want to share some of the Bible verses that have touched my heart and strengthened me through this time. But I am glad I found this chance to share some of the graces God blessed us with, and the kindnesses shown to us by people at the hospital and from those mothers who are reaching out to help others experiencing similar losses. These were all such gifts to me, and I don't want to forget them.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Trusting God in Goodbyes
I have the saddest news to share . . . .
On Monday morning, I learned our baby died in utero. She measured 17 weeks 5 days (I was expecting her to measure 18 weeks), so she had just recently passed. But she had no heartbeat.
Nicholas was the only person with me, and he amazed me with how familiar he'd already become with these visits when we left and he kept asking, "Why aren't we getting a picture of Sissy?"
My current doctor does an ultrasound at every visit, so Nick has come to expect those keepsakes.
We never had an ultrasound with our first child, but I am so grateful for every single moment I got to see this sweet girl on screen, with her strong heartbeat and her constant movement. She was so vibrant and so alive! She took my breath away.
We named her Gianna Ceclia. There are a few stories behind her name. First, I became familiar with now-Saint Gianna when I was pregnant with Brendan and her relics came to my parish. They placed her gloves on my belly and prayed for my unborn child. I felt such a connection to her that I read books about her and have prayed to her in the past, for pregnancies and other matters.
I mentioned this story to my boss, who recently met Gianna Emanuela, St. Gianna's daughter (the one she delivered shortly before her death). He actually came into the office last Thursday with a prayers card containing a relic (a piece of St. Gianna's shirt). Gianna Emanuela gave this card to him and his wife, and they gave it to me.
It brought me such comfort. And, as we were considering the name Gianna anyway, it helped move that name into the top position.
Wen I learned a few days later that the baby had died, it seemed so natural to name her Gianna.
Cecilia is, in part, to honor Nick's insistence that we call the baby "Sissy." He loves his Sissy so much, and constantly wants to rest his head, hands, or feet on my belly. He must kiss my belly and hug it dozens of times every day. His certainty that this baby was a girl was so great that I am almost convinced his guardian angel whispered it to him. I remember telling him about the pregnancy, and how he had a moment of doubt and uncertainty (he has, after all, been rather spoiled by being the baby all these years), but then after a moment, he seemed so happy, certain, and in love with what he was positive was his baby sister.
He actually said to the baby sitter this morning, "Did you hear Sissy died?"
When she replied in the affirmative, he said, "I wish (he paused, and sighed) I could hold her and love her."
Such a boy.
St. Cecilia also is a patron of music, and I feel, in some way, this baby is part of a song my husband and I are offering to God with our lives. Or at least, of the offering we are making, the part with her is so beautiful, it is like a song. That has more to do with her and Him than us, but the song is there nevertheless.
Other memories I have of our daughter's short life are telling Brendan and Kate I was pregnant. Brendan was the first person I told, aside from my husband. He looked up at me with moist eyes and exclaimed, "I just had a tear!" Emotions can be hard to wrangle out of that boy, but I have never seen a love that compares to his for Nicholas and this baby.
Kate just broke into sobs, and cried, "These are tears of joy!!"
How did I raise these children, who have such beautiful hearts for new life and who are so willing to let their lives (and rooms) be re-arranged to make room for one more soul? I am so grateful for them!
After we learned the baby was a girl (oh, that ultrasound--in which she looked so healthy, strong, and beautiful!!), Kate, Nick, and I went shopping for some clothing on Kate's insistence. Kate's joy was so beautiful! She was so eager to share her bedroom and to just love her baby sister with all her heart.
I wrote in the last blog post that listening to Fr. John Ricardo helped me to see this baby was like a fine wine God was bringing into our lives--something (someone!) so beautiful that we didn't even know we needed, to add such beauty and richness to our lives.
I just want to say that I still believe that to be true. I must keep this brief, because I will leave for the hospital in a few hours to be induced and to deliver our precious daughter, and there is so much to be done before I am ready to leave my children for the night. But let me say that the Lord has worked wonders in our hearts and in our lives through this baby. He has helped us to let go of so much that isn't Him, and to put our faith so much more completely into His hands.
He is trustworthy--but so often we hold back on giving Him all of our trust. With this baby, He helped us to take some giant leaps closer to being entirely in His hands. To knowing--and living--the truth that there is the only place we will find safety.
There is so much I do not understand. I do not know why our baby died, I do not know why His purpose couldn't have been served just as well with her in our arms and our home than in heaven.
But I cannot take back the trust I put in Him when I was ready and willing to open our arms and home to the gift of a new daughter. I knew then that we were in His hands, and in His will, and that He is worthy of our trust. So I must continue to live that now, when things aren't as I would wish them to be. His faithfulness has not changed. His worthiness will never change. His love of us, and His desire for our good, always will be more than I can imagine.
We are in Your hands, dear Lord. Your Word has spoken to us today, as we prepare to go to the hospital to deliver our baby, and Monday, when we learned she was gone. Thank You for such Truth that has traveled centuries to reach our hearts and to comfort us here, where we are, today.
Thank You for the gift of Gianna Cecilia. Thank You for the gift of Meghan, Brendan, Luke, Kate, and Nicholas--and for this reminder of the miracle each of their lives is. Thank You for our marriage and the grace to live it out each day.
I simply want to post this now, but when I have time later, I hope to share some of the verses that have spoken to my heart this week. Please keep us in your prayers.
On Monday morning, I learned our baby died in utero. She measured 17 weeks 5 days (I was expecting her to measure 18 weeks), so she had just recently passed. But she had no heartbeat.
Nicholas was the only person with me, and he amazed me with how familiar he'd already become with these visits when we left and he kept asking, "Why aren't we getting a picture of Sissy?"
My current doctor does an ultrasound at every visit, so Nick has come to expect those keepsakes.
We never had an ultrasound with our first child, but I am so grateful for every single moment I got to see this sweet girl on screen, with her strong heartbeat and her constant movement. She was so vibrant and so alive! She took my breath away.
We named her Gianna Ceclia. There are a few stories behind her name. First, I became familiar with now-Saint Gianna when I was pregnant with Brendan and her relics came to my parish. They placed her gloves on my belly and prayed for my unborn child. I felt such a connection to her that I read books about her and have prayed to her in the past, for pregnancies and other matters.
I mentioned this story to my boss, who recently met Gianna Emanuela, St. Gianna's daughter (the one she delivered shortly before her death). He actually came into the office last Thursday with a prayers card containing a relic (a piece of St. Gianna's shirt). Gianna Emanuela gave this card to him and his wife, and they gave it to me.
It brought me such comfort. And, as we were considering the name Gianna anyway, it helped move that name into the top position.
Wen I learned a few days later that the baby had died, it seemed so natural to name her Gianna.
Cecilia is, in part, to honor Nick's insistence that we call the baby "Sissy." He loves his Sissy so much, and constantly wants to rest his head, hands, or feet on my belly. He must kiss my belly and hug it dozens of times every day. His certainty that this baby was a girl was so great that I am almost convinced his guardian angel whispered it to him. I remember telling him about the pregnancy, and how he had a moment of doubt and uncertainty (he has, after all, been rather spoiled by being the baby all these years), but then after a moment, he seemed so happy, certain, and in love with what he was positive was his baby sister.
He actually said to the baby sitter this morning, "Did you hear Sissy died?"
When she replied in the affirmative, he said, "I wish (he paused, and sighed) I could hold her and love her."
Such a boy.
St. Cecilia also is a patron of music, and I feel, in some way, this baby is part of a song my husband and I are offering to God with our lives. Or at least, of the offering we are making, the part with her is so beautiful, it is like a song. That has more to do with her and Him than us, but the song is there nevertheless.
Other memories I have of our daughter's short life are telling Brendan and Kate I was pregnant. Brendan was the first person I told, aside from my husband. He looked up at me with moist eyes and exclaimed, "I just had a tear!" Emotions can be hard to wrangle out of that boy, but I have never seen a love that compares to his for Nicholas and this baby.
Kate just broke into sobs, and cried, "These are tears of joy!!"
How did I raise these children, who have such beautiful hearts for new life and who are so willing to let their lives (and rooms) be re-arranged to make room for one more soul? I am so grateful for them!
After we learned the baby was a girl (oh, that ultrasound--in which she looked so healthy, strong, and beautiful!!), Kate, Nick, and I went shopping for some clothing on Kate's insistence. Kate's joy was so beautiful! She was so eager to share her bedroom and to just love her baby sister with all her heart.
I wrote in the last blog post that listening to Fr. John Ricardo helped me to see this baby was like a fine wine God was bringing into our lives--something (someone!) so beautiful that we didn't even know we needed, to add such beauty and richness to our lives.
I just want to say that I still believe that to be true. I must keep this brief, because I will leave for the hospital in a few hours to be induced and to deliver our precious daughter, and there is so much to be done before I am ready to leave my children for the night. But let me say that the Lord has worked wonders in our hearts and in our lives through this baby. He has helped us to let go of so much that isn't Him, and to put our faith so much more completely into His hands.
He is trustworthy--but so often we hold back on giving Him all of our trust. With this baby, He helped us to take some giant leaps closer to being entirely in His hands. To knowing--and living--the truth that there is the only place we will find safety.
There is so much I do not understand. I do not know why our baby died, I do not know why His purpose couldn't have been served just as well with her in our arms and our home than in heaven.
But I cannot take back the trust I put in Him when I was ready and willing to open our arms and home to the gift of a new daughter. I knew then that we were in His hands, and in His will, and that He is worthy of our trust. So I must continue to live that now, when things aren't as I would wish them to be. His faithfulness has not changed. His worthiness will never change. His love of us, and His desire for our good, always will be more than I can imagine.
We are in Your hands, dear Lord. Your Word has spoken to us today, as we prepare to go to the hospital to deliver our baby, and Monday, when we learned she was gone. Thank You for such Truth that has traveled centuries to reach our hearts and to comfort us here, where we are, today.
Thank You for the gift of Gianna Cecilia. Thank You for the gift of Meghan, Brendan, Luke, Kate, and Nicholas--and for this reminder of the miracle each of their lives is. Thank You for our marriage and the grace to live it out each day.
I simply want to post this now, but when I have time later, I hope to share some of the verses that have spoken to my heart this week. Please keep us in your prayers.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
On new babies and fine wine
My last post shared how this has been a year of change for our family. Our oldest daughter started high school forty minutes away. And I went back to work.
However, that is not the biggest--or most beautiful--of the changes our family is facing. In December, only a couple months after I started working, I discovered that I am pregnant. Yes, pregnant!!
A new child is always, always a gift. And I am grateful. But, especially in the beginning, I will admit I also was a bit overwhelmed (along with being exhausted).
How would this work? Had we been completely foolish?
And, of course, the answers were (in order)--with God's help all things are possible, and no. Honestly seeking God's will, and leaving room for Him to work in our lives in ways different from what we ourselves might have planned is never, never foolish. Except, perhaps, in the way Jesus was foolish, He was both God's own fool and the King of Kings. Let us all love like Him and be fools like Him!
I also had other concerns about my pregnancy, however. I think it is inevitable that after you experience significant loss and trauma related to childbirth, you can never return to the innocence of thinking everything will naturally just work out.
I was (and continue to be, to a certain extent) afraid of losing the baby, and also for my own life. My last miscarriage was very traumatic, and I am surprised to realize how much it affects me even now. However, I also must add that as God helps me see those scars, He also helps heal them.
One of my biggest challenges, especially early in the pregnancy, is to trust between doctor's visits that my baby will continue to be alive. I allow my children to come to visits with me so they can hear the heartbeat, which is such a joy to them, but doing so is an act of the will that requires me to place hope over fear.
At my second visit, in January, I was feeling concerned for the baby and was weighed down by worries about how everything would work out and whether we had been so ridiculous to allow this to happen!
And then I heard that heartbeat again, and the tears fell. I really don't think I had expected to hear it.
And on the way home, God blessed me with a gift that has stayed with me ever since, and that has steadied my heart and comforted me in such a powerful way.
I was listening to Fr. John Ricardo's program Christ is the Answer on Ave Maria Radio (see 52:40). He was discussing fulfillment. He explained it is like asking for water--and instead, having someone bring you a glass of "exquisite Italian wine." He said such a gesture would "not just quench your thirst; [it would] bring you joy." That is what God wants to give us--abundantly more than what we even ask for. We may think we have all we could want, but He wants to give us more. Out of His abundant love, out of His merciful Heart, He desires to pour Himself into our hearts and lives.
As Fr. John spoke, I knew this was what this new baby was to our family: an gift of God's abundance; Him telling us that although we thought our family was just fine, He had something even greater in mind for us; a gift of His abundant love that He wanted to share with our family--and that we couldn't have received if not for my husband and I trying to say "Yes" to God, and leaving room for Him in our marriage.
If you consider our family as a banquet, each member surely provides a different, but necessary and beautiful course. We could have continued on with water, but this child is the fine wine the Lord truly wants to serve our family. This child adds something, again, that transforms the entire atmosphere of the feast. We were happy with the relatively comfortable place we'd found ourselves, where we could kind of look ahead and see how things would work out, but He wants to stretch us, and to make room for more of Himself. He wants us to walk blindly in faith, so that we can arrive at a place even more beautiful than what we'd mapped out of the factors we could grasp, however good they may have been.
Thank You, dear Lord, for loving us so much that You want more for us than we can even imagine for ourselves. Thank You for helping us let go of things that are comfortable, and for walking with us into uncharted waters, so that we may receive more of Yourself. Thank You for being the One Who can meet all our needs.
Recently, we learned the baby is a girl. On Nick's insistence, we currently refer to her as "Sissy." Thank You, also, dear Lord, for the gift of Sissy--who I promise will one day bear another name!
However, that is not the biggest--or most beautiful--of the changes our family is facing. In December, only a couple months after I started working, I discovered that I am pregnant. Yes, pregnant!!
 |
| My husband recently celebrated his forty-fifth birthday! |
How would this work? Had we been completely foolish?
And, of course, the answers were (in order)--with God's help all things are possible, and no. Honestly seeking God's will, and leaving room for Him to work in our lives in ways different from what we ourselves might have planned is never, never foolish. Except, perhaps, in the way Jesus was foolish, He was both God's own fool and the King of Kings. Let us all love like Him and be fools like Him!
 |
| Kate and my Dad share a birthday. She just turned nine! |
I was (and continue to be, to a certain extent) afraid of losing the baby, and also for my own life. My last miscarriage was very traumatic, and I am surprised to realize how much it affects me even now. However, I also must add that as God helps me see those scars, He also helps heal them.
One of my biggest challenges, especially early in the pregnancy, is to trust between doctor's visits that my baby will continue to be alive. I allow my children to come to visits with me so they can hear the heartbeat, which is such a joy to them, but doing so is an act of the will that requires me to place hope over fear.
At my second visit, in January, I was feeling concerned for the baby and was weighed down by worries about how everything would work out and whether we had been so ridiculous to allow this to happen!
And then I heard that heartbeat again, and the tears fell. I really don't think I had expected to hear it.
 |
| Ready for their Christmas concert . . . . |
I was listening to Fr. John Ricardo's program Christ is the Answer on Ave Maria Radio (see 52:40). He was discussing fulfillment. He explained it is like asking for water--and instead, having someone bring you a glass of "exquisite Italian wine." He said such a gesture would "not just quench your thirst; [it would] bring you joy." That is what God wants to give us--abundantly more than what we even ask for. We may think we have all we could want, but He wants to give us more. Out of His abundant love, out of His merciful Heart, He desires to pour Himself into our hearts and lives.
As Fr. John spoke, I knew this was what this new baby was to our family: an gift of God's abundance; Him telling us that although we thought our family was just fine, He had something even greater in mind for us; a gift of His abundant love that He wanted to share with our family--and that we couldn't have received if not for my husband and I trying to say "Yes" to God, and leaving room for Him in our marriage.
 |
| Christmas morning! |
Thank You, dear Lord, for loving us so much that You want more for us than we can even imagine for ourselves. Thank You for helping us let go of things that are comfortable, and for walking with us into uncharted waters, so that we may receive more of Yourself. Thank You for being the One Who can meet all our needs.
Recently, we learned the baby is a girl. On Nick's insistence, we currently refer to her as "Sissy." Thank You, also, dear Lord, for the gift of Sissy--who I promise will one day bear another name!
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