Monday, April 18, 2005
no one cries like a mother cries: farewell William Charles Stewart
Regular readers here know Julia. She's always made cheerful comments and asked great questions on the SprogBlog. You may also know that Julia was looking forward to this week because it was her due date for her second child. She asked me to talk about my opinions of epidurals and c-sections. Sadly, Julia's baby, a boy named William Charles, was stillborn last Friday. My heart breaks with hers every time I say or write those words. Julia, her husband Mason, and her son Braden are all in my heart, thoughts, and prayers in their horrible time of grief. Losing a baby has to be one of the deepest pains a human can feel. Bono sings in one of my favorite U2 songs:
Tell the ones that hear no sound,
whose sons are living in the ground
Peace on Earth.
No whos or whys--No one cries like a mother cries
for Peace on Earth
She never got to say goodbye,
To see the color in his eyes.
Peace on Earth.
Nobody talks about losing a baby. In our society it's overlooked, forgotten, not mentioned. But so many people quietly anguish with this pain. We have to start talking about it. Their lives mean something and should be marked. We lost a baby early in its pregnancy back in November of 2001. It rocked my soul off its foundation. I remember thinking losing a child may be easier to bear because at least you got some time with the child. Julia lost her baby after a complete pregnancy of bonding and hoping, and before she got to see him giggle, grab her little pinky finger, or latch his warm welcome mouth onto her maternal breast.
This is a pain that cracks throughout the universe like the sound of an iced lake cracking in spring sun or the sound of a ball on a bat. It cracks with piercing anguish where joy and anticipation rang out just a few days ago. My hope for Julia is that she can celebrate her connection to her son as she knew him: still inside her, still part of her. His life was full because all he ever knew was her. Her emotions, the sound of her heartbeat, the smells of her day as she moved about her life. My heart holds you, Julia. The pain. Oh, the pain. I hope it dulls to a bearable level. I hope you cry and scream and hug your husband and son. I wish I was there for you to cry on and scream at.