Then Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and mourned for his son many days. Genesis 37:34
I feel like, as a society, we don't mourn well. The days of wearing sackcloth, signifying the "wearer" is in deep mourning, are long gone, at least in America. Maybe it's because we, for some reason, don't want to "stick out". Sticking out means that maybe we'd have to talk about it, the loss. But, is that so bad? I think that's where the healing comes. Sharing the load. Talking of the loss. I look back now and think it was like I was wearing sackcloth in that I had been pregnant, walking all around town, big as a house, and then, not. Sackcloth. No baby in a cart with me. No baby to be found. I felt like I wanted to hide, everywhere I went, as if carrying the loss was un-presentable. Yet on the very rare occasion someone would ask me where my baby was, hadn't I been pregnant, I was...relieved, almost. Grateful to utter my child's name. Grateful to acknowledge she had really been here.
Anyway, I digress.
The day Josie died, my midwife, Cynthia, came over. She brought with her a tiny wood box that her husband had made for our baby to be cremated in. I remember our whole family gathering around my midwife and the box, on the living room floor. Cynthia spoke to A and G, about the "box", careful not to go into too much detail: what it was for, what we would do with it. After placing Josie's body inside, A and G placed flowers in with her, notes, pictures they'd drawn for her about her life, and favorite comfort items they thought she would really want to have. They were saying goodbye to their sister, and doing it well, and I remember, after closing the lid, G asked if she was still in there; like it was a magic box that would make her disappear. Such sweet moments, if there were to be any. Cynthia had given us such a gift; so much more than a box.
Just like so many things of Eadie's life, the removal of her body was nothing like that.
Eadie died very late at night, so Brett and I waited until dawn so that A and G could say goodbye to her. And, because my pregnancy had been deemed "high risk", my midwife hadn't been involved, at least from a medical standpoint. She had made a home visit, which was of much comfort to me, to check on how Eadie had been doing earlier that month, but for this moment, she wasn't involved.
I remember that it was still dark outside, and stormy as the funeral director came to take Eadie's body. She was to be transported to Children's for an autopsy; something we agreed to, for more genetic testing. This put a rush on our letting go process because the autopsy had to be completed within eight to ten hours after her death, yet would provide possible answers to questions that may help A or G later down the road, or other families...I wish we'd had more time.
Eadie's body was clothed, and wrapped in a blanket. And that was it. Where would her body lay as the car moved down the road? The thought unnerved me. I also remember thinking she'd be cold. Strange. It was one of the worst experiences I've ever had to be a part of, to say the least.
Later that day, we got a call from our doctor at Children's telling us her body had arrived. There was so much comfort in that phone call. Strange. And, he called again when her body was on its way to the funeral home in our town. Knowing WHERE her body was meant something to me. Strange.
At the beginning of the work week, I had to go into the funeral home to sign some papers. Things we hadn't had to do with Josie because her death was imminent, but because Eadie's life had so many questions marks, a lot of the logistics were left for the moment. I remember sitting in the office, or lobby, or whatever, forcing my body to stay put. Knowing her body was in that building...I had such an intense desire to hold her tiny body one more time. Strange. I knew she was gone, but my very being wasn't willing to accept this fact.
Then Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and mourned for his son many days. Genesis 37:34 I get it Jacob. I totally get it.
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