Morning of Mourning

TW: miscarriage

The doctor couldn't save our baby. Our daughter. Our future. Our happiness. Our likeness. Our love in the flesh, just beginning its life. How was I to know that when I woke up that morning, I'd no longer be a father?

It was as if the world stopped, the universe momentarily placed on hold just for me, for Julia, just for our baby. What could have we done? Did I not pray enough? Did I not light enough candles? Did I not call upon the Virgin, or St. Gerard Majella? With all of the good that we've done in our community and for our friends, what did we do to deserve this?

Julia and I fell into our happiness head first, never once thinking it was ever possible that something untoward would happen. We were terrified, but we just couldn't help feeling that the possibility of the future would be ours for the taking. Our little family of three.

My God, Julia. To be able speak throughout the ordeal, telling the doctors and nurses what they needed to know even as she felt the life pool underneath her. I did my best to be strong for her, but I couldn't keep up the pretense, not when I saw her lying there and her look of complete devastation. The woman I love, who works so hard for others and loves me so fiercely, crumpled at my own tears, crying out into the ether of the hospital room. That primordial moment was all she'd allow herself before getting up the next morning to go to work. Her release of the universal pain of losing a child, heard throughout the ages as her fellow sisters-in-arms rallied around her in spirit gave me pause.

I did not shush her. I would never quiet what is her due. Her keen of anger, sadness, frustration and loneliness. As tears rolled down my own face, I simply held my wife as she cried, tearing at my clothes in anguish as her emotions overcame her. Julia…Julia…I love you. Everything is going to be alright. I doubt I could be heard over her moans and mumbles.

"Oh William, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

How could she possibly be sorry for something she had no control over? My headstrong, brave and intelligent wife was a mess in her hospital gown. A nurse entered the room, concern on her face. "Is everything alright? Shall I fetch the doctor?"

I simply shook my head, giving her a quick thank you before she closed the door behind her. As Julia fell into a fitful sleep in my arms, her body finally giving into the ordeal that was placed before her just hours prior, I did only what I've been taught to do: pray.

Dear Lord,

Please help us. Please comfort us. Please ease our pain. What are we to do now? How can we do this, if not with your help? Please heal Julia. You placed her into my life for a reason and I know it must be for more than this. Just has you have done before, please clear the way for us to heal and rely on each other.

I am lost. I am utterly lost, Lord. Please tell me how I should behave, how I should be myself with pain. Tell me what I need to do in order to face this unspeakable burden that is grief. Hold our child in your loving arms until we can meet again.

Amen.

I want no pity. I want no sympathy. I just want peace. We just need peace. We need…what exactly? A distraction…

Work, yes. Always work.