Gracie's Party

It's hard to believe that it has been a week since we laid our Gracie to rest. "Hard to believe" mostly because my sense of time has become so warped over the past week and a half... I don't know whether I feel as though it has been a longer or a shorter time. Part of me feels like it was just yesterday that I was still pregnant with my wiggly little girl, but part of me feels like I've been missing her for decades.

As we drove to the cemetery that day, about a 40 minute drive for us, the rain kept threatening. The day before when we had visited the cemetery to sign paperwork, the weather had been picture-perfect, but I suppose I can't blame the sun for not being able to shine that day. As my sister-in-law said, "It's ok, God is just crying with us." Fortunately when it did begin to rain at the cemetery, it only lasted right up until the service began. We all got a little wet, but it stayed dry for the remainder.

I went over to the site to help set up a few things, making sure that the music was set and the photos were displayed nicely. We greeted a few of our guests as they arrived, but not all. I just couldn't start down that road (with the emotional hugs and condolences) before the service even started. As much as I wanted to feel the emotions of the day, I also wanted to be able to stand up with my husband and read what we had written for her. When the time came, Scott, Ben, Eli and I walked back across the lawn to the hearse that held her casket. The flowers were so beautiful - it was the first I'd seen them. Ben picked her up, turned back to the crowd that waited by her final resting place, and we walked together. Ben carried Gracie, and I carried Eli behind them. It was the last thing we'd do together as a family.

The service was lovely. I remember that much of the message surrounded hope and love and remembrance, though I couldn't tell you a whole lot of specifics. I wish I could say more, but I was far too distracted by the casket sitting on the table in front of me, holding my tiny sleeping baby girl, who I'd never hold again on this earth. I also had my hands full with Eli, who was only temporarily content to sit in my lap and listen. My poor little guy... I know he could sense that there was something very foreign going on. So many people he recognized, but so many he didn't. No one was playing with him or talking to him. People were crying. I'm sure that he was terribly confused! He just acted strange, doing things he never does, making weird noises, eventually acting up a little and forcing me to call a brief "intermission" to talk to him. But it was fine... I couldn't have expected much else. At the end of the day it was our event, so it didn't matter if it was our toddler who interrupted it! He needed to be there, and we needed him to be there.

I do remember that so much of what I heard was exactly what I wanted to communicate to people about this journey that we're on. That the experience is awful and sad and heart-wrenching, but that her life was such a blessing to us, and that God has never forsaken us, and that her story is one of life and hope. Pastor Gerri and Jennifer did a beautiful job of conveying the message that we wanted her life to leave behind.

My best friend Colette read a poem for us toward the end of the service, entitled "Precious Little One". And bless her heart, she made it through without a tear!

I’m just a precious little one who
didn't make it there.
I went straight to be with God,
but I’m waiting for you here.

Many dwelling here where I live
waited years to enter in.
Struggled through a world of sorrow,
a world marred with pain and sin.

Thank you for the life you gave me,
it was brief but don’t complain.
I have all Heaven’s Glory,
suffered none of earth’s great pain.

Thank you for the name you gave me.
I’d have loved to bring it fame.
But if I’d lingered in earth’s shadows,
I would have suffered just the same.

So sweet family - don’t you sorrow.
Wipe those tears and chase the gloom.
I went straight to God's arms
from my loving Mother’s womb. 

-Author Unknown

I really do take great comfort in those words. As awful as this world can be, I still selfishly wish that I could have kept her here, but it is true that she has essentially gotten a free pass to skip over this world's ugliness. She received the gift of eternal life in paradise without ever having to face the pain of this life on earth. I miss her so much, but I find some peace in that truth.

Then it was time for Ben and I to read the words we had written for our girl. Eli joined us, as he was feeling a little clingy at that point, so I held him while we alternated, each reading a paragraph:

"There is so much that we wish we could put into words for you all. Our experience of Gracie’s life was so full of love and joy, despite the pain and heartbreak that came along the way. Learning of her diagnosis and losing the future that we had envisioned for her and our family was an unthinkable loss, but we quickly realized that losing her future did not mean that we had lost her – not yet. There was still time to continue to build our bond with her, make memories with her, and enjoy a different kind of relationship with our daughter – the only kind that we would be able to have. It wasn’t what we had envisioned, but it was all we had, and the choice to make the most of her little life, however brief, was the easiest choice we’ve ever made.  

We spent the last four weeks and five days of her life cherishing every beat of her heart. We listened to her heartbeat and her movements in bed at night with our fetal Doppler, laughing at the party she always seemed to be having in there. Eli often asked to “talk to Gracie” on weekend mornings, and we’d happily oblige by placing the Doppler probe on Jenna’s belly and letting him listen with wonder at the sounds his baby sister was making. It wasn’t long after the diagnosis that Jenna began to feel her movements regularly, another precious bond that formed in those weeks. On Fathers’ Day, just 3 days before Gracie would ultimately pass away, I was finally able to feel her kick for the first time. Like any other expectant couple, these milestones and tender moments were treasured, but I would venture to say that our situation inspired even deeper meaning and intimacy in those moments. Not a moment was taken for granted. Every day was a gift.

On the day that Gracie was born into Heaven, we experienced the deepest of pain and sorrow. Yet at the same time, it was another opportunity to make memories with our girl. She entered our world so peacefully, we held her together immediately following delivery and she remained in our care for over 16 precious hours. We snuggled her, kissed her, took in every inch of her form, marveled at her perfect little nose and tiny baby feet. We bathed her, dressed her, made impressions of her hands and feet, created a Christmas ornament with her hand and footprints, shared her with loving family and friends, introduced her to her proud and excited big brother who so lovingly accepted her into his arms. We took photos with her. We made memories and treasured our time together. 

As much as Gracie’s passing has broken our hearts, and as helplessly empty as our arms feel today, her life was such a precious gift. She taught us a new way to love a child, and each other. She gave us a whole new outlook on life. Her life and death brought us new friendships, strengthened old ones, and added new layers to the depth of love that exists within our family. Gracie is proof that there is such tremendous beauty to be found in every life, no matter how brief."

I wouldn't say that we made it through without tears, but we came pretty darn close. God's strength and peace comes in waves at the exact moments we need it most, and it came on like a Tsunami as we read. My voice shook and my eyes welled occasionally, but I did far better than I had hoped was possible. Once again, I will never stop thanking Ben for pushing me to be courageous for our daughter throughout this process. I'm so proud that we were able to do that for her.

After allowing several friends and family members to stand and share a few words with the group, we handed out pens and small tags. Everyone in attendance was asked to write a short note to attach to a balloon that would be sent up to Gracie in our closing balloon release. This was when I lost it for a few moments. I just couldn't write to her without crying. But once again, I told her how desperately we would always miss her, how we would hold her in our hearts forever, and asked her to watch over her brother for us. When everyone was ready, we turned on her song:

  

...And on the count of three...

...We sent our love up to Gracie.

Even Eli was able to release his balloon without losing his mind :)

Then Ben and I finally fell to pieces. It was just so intensely emotional. We had been so strong through the entire service, but that beautiful expression of love and hope-filled reminder of her place in Heaven was just too much. We'll never forget it. We stood there holding each other and sobbing, and soon felt the arms of our family all around us as her song played and her balloons floated away. It was a perfect ending to a lovely celebration of her life.

We spent some time greeting, hugging and thanking our many guests, especially those who weren't able to join us at the wake afterward. There were roughly 45 people who came to honor her and support us, and we'll never forget a single one of them. But soon it was time to send everyone on their way so that Ben and I could do one last thing for her - lay her to rest.

Ben carried her casket to the graveside and we sat together and said what we needed to say to her. We laid so many kisses on that casket and thoroughly soaked it with our tears. Though there had been some miscommunication regarding who would be placing the casket in its final resting place, when the time came, the cemetery's superintendent was more than happy to let Ben do whatever he felt he needed to do. And what he needed to do was make sure that it was her daddy who put her to bed for the first and last time. That we were the last to touch her. And so my husband - the bereaved father of his first baby girl, dressed in his best suit, red eyes full of tears - climbed down into the 4-foot-deep grave, picked up the casket, and gently placed our little girl in her final resting place. Scott picked three roses from her casket spray - one from Ben, one from me, and one from Eli - and handed them to Ben to place on top. He climbed out, and we told her we'd see her again - that this was not "goodbye", that we'd never say "goodbye" to her - and we left.

We cried as we walked away, but we just kept repeating "It's only her body. It's only her body." Because really, it's only her body that is buried there. Her sweet and lovely little soul - what made Gracie "Gracie" - left us before she even made it into our arms. For the entire time we've known her body, her soul has been with Jesus. She has a new and perfect body - she has no use for the terminally flawed one that she inhabited on this earth in my womb. That body was all my arms ever knew, and I miss it every day, but I need not be distressed over the fact that her body had to be buried. She's not there, in the ground. I will visit that spot to remember her and feel close to her, but as I sit by her grave and talk to her I'll have to look up - not down.