Hope of Being a Parent Again

Dearest Leo,

I thought the holidays would be tough, but your dad and I ran away to Hawaii again and that was just lovely. It was good to be away, to not really celebrate and to not be around people who knew what we had gone through.

During our trip, we returned to the Hindu Monastery and talked to many of the monks there. Such wise and loving men they are! One of them, specializes in astrology. While reading my stars, he said he can see children in our future. He said that it will be a very active child. I typically don't believe in these things, but when I heard those words, I couldn't help but to shed a few tears of joy and relief. It gives me hope that one day I will be able to be a mother for more than just one hour. 

Last night, I dreamed of holding a baby girl, my baby girl. Everyone was amazed at how beautiful she was. Then, really quickly, I saw the same little girl, but a little older. She was rushing to brush her teeth because she wanted to go play. Then I told her that she has to brush for a whole 2 mins, and I stood there, watching her brush. It's the first time I dream of a child - I sure hope that is a sign.

Clinic and Church

Dear Leo,

On Friday, I went to the clinic. It was my first checkup since the delivery. The good news is that everything is good with me, physically that is. My cervix is close and my uterus is back to normal. I'm feeling good and recovering normally.

The hospital did a pathology on the placenta, just to test if there was something wrong with you. They found that there was a 'late infection'. The doctor said that the placenta probably got infected during or after the delivery. We would worry if the diagnostic was 'chronic infection'. I'm glad nothing was wrong with you. I knew this wasn't your fault. It was mine...I bet you would have stayed in my uterus for much longer if my cervix wasn't incompetent.

Your dad came to the doctor with me. We asked her a lot of questions about my recovery, about 'cervix incompetency' and about getting pregnant again. I will need to be followed by a high-risk OBGYN from now on. Unfortunately, a lot of our questions have no answer...which is frustrating. No answers means there's nothing I can do and if I can't do anything, I don't have control....and if I have no control, I feel helpless. How do I ensure this doesn't happen again?

On Sunday, I went to mass. For some reason, I always end up crying there. I think mass is the only place that forces me to sit down and just be. No cell phones, no tv, no computer...just me and my thoughts. That can be scary at times, believe me. This Sunday, I was sitting in the 3rd row and signing along to this beautiful religious song, when suddenly, the sun shone in through the stained glass windows and onto my face. I looked around and only I had the sun on me...no one else. I took that as a sign. I don't know if it was you Leo or God shining light on me, letting me know that things will be ok...that I will soon be out of the darkness.

After mass, I talked to one of the church's volunteer and she promised to connect me with the priest, so that we can talk about you. Today, I got an email from the priest. I am trying to find ways to make me feel better, so I'm trying everything. From going to mass, talking to the priest, going to support groups (first one will be this week), talking to friends....etc. I am a little worried about meeting with the priest though. Will he make me feel better? Will he tell me that God had better plans for you and that you're in a better place? Because that does not help me at all. Your place is here. There is no better place for you than in my arms. 

Finding Peace in Faith

My dearest Leo,

In the past few days, I've been seeking God a little more. Today, I just went to church and sat there alone for a good half hour. I didn't pray. I just sat there quietly and felt at peace. 

I found some comfort in the words of the priest who was there at your cremation and I found comfort in the hugs of strangers after Sunday Mass. I've been feeling like seeking God might be the only way to heal right now. 

I contacted my ex boss and will be having lunch with him tomorrow. I just felt like I needed to talk to him since he's such a kind person and is also religious. For some reason, I have a feeling that talking to him will help me. Today, I also met another friend of mine who is very religious...but from a different faith; I've been finding that it doesn't matter what religion you follow. Words from anyone who has faith have provided me strength and insight. 

When I lived with my parents, my dad would force us to go to mass every Sunday. I haven't been to church regularly ever since I left home, but now I feel like I need to get back to my spiritual life. It's like I'm craving it....it's like it's the only thing that could feel the void you left in me. 

Your Cremation

Dear Leo,

Today, Wednesday, Oct 30th at noon was your cremation. Your father and I arrived there at 11:30am and we got a change to hold you one more time, caress your cheek and admire your perfect little face. I am still amazed at how long your fingers are. I was telling your dad that you couldn't have probably become a great pianist. We also laughed at how much hair you had on your little head. Oh Leo, you are just so beautiful and so perfect!

A hindu priest arrived at 12:20 and performed a ceremony. Your dad and I were a little lost, since we've never gone through this before, but the priest was explaining everything he was doing to us. We sprinkled holy water (from the Ganges) on you, the sprinkled some special herbs, camphor and some other things. Then, we placed flowers all around your body. Your dad then carried you and placed you in the crematorium. It was this large industrial machine. I was scared as soon as I saw it. It hurt me to have you placed in there. Then, your dad pressed the button.

When we left the room with the industrial machines, we cried. We will never see your perfect face again. The priest explained to us that we just placed your body in the crematorium, not your soul. I know you'll always be with us, in our hearts. That does make me feel a little better, but it's still hard because I can't kiss, hug, hold, caress your soul.

This morning, right before the cremation, we got an email from a swami from a temple in Kauai. That temple is of significance importance to your dad, since it follows his traditions. We've never been there, but we are planing to go when we go to Hawaii in November. You were supposed to go with us, while in my belly...but now we decided to spread your ashes there. The swami said that they'll do a ceremony there today at the same time as your cremation...the ceremony is for you Leo. Then, they'll do another one for your dad and I. Apparently, today is the biggest celebration they've had in 12 years. Here's an excerpt of his email:

"As it happens, tomorrow , we will be in the middle of our biggest celebration in 12 years: marking the 12th anniversary of the passing of our Satguru, Sivaya Subramuniyaswami whom we called Gurudeva. One cycle of Jupiter, exactly, since he was cremated. It is a week-long festival with devotees from all over the world. It is noteworthy that, right in the middle of our marking that event, our devas here will be informed of Leo's cremation and asked to attend it and to look after everyone involved. We think probably Gurudeva and Leo will be aware of each other in the marvelous world where they are."

I didn't understand all of it, so your dad had to explain it to me. Sivaya Subramuniyaswami was the person who started the temple in Kauai. He passed away on this day. The Tamil calendar works according to planets, which is why 12 years is a big event. 

My father too has been emailing me saying that he feels your presence near him. I do wish you were with us, but your life Leo, as short as it was, has already touched so many lives. 

We love you,

Ta maman qui t'aime fort 

Sunday Service for Leo

Dear Leo,

Sunday, October 27th I asked that mass be dedicated to you. Your dad and I went to the 9:30am service. We don't go to mass very often, but I felt that I needed to do this. When I am at church, I typically feel a sense of peace and I needed that this week.

Sitting quietly with my thoughts is always hard. I don't know how many times I cried during mass. Random words in the readings made me tear up. One reading had the words "God is the giver of life". That got me. God gave you to us, but God also took you away.

When they mentioned you, they didn't do it the way I was expecting. They didn't pray for you, they prayed for me and that's not what I wanted. But instead the priest said "let's pray for Natasha and her stillborn son." First of all, you were not stillborn. You lived for a little while, you were in this world with us! Secondly, you're not just my son! I wish they had also said your dad's name. I know it was a mistake, I know they didn't mean any harm, I know I'm overly sensitive right now.

After the service, your dad and I went to light a candle for you. I knelt down and prayed for you and couldn't stop crying. Some people came to me and asked if we were the parents of the baby who passed. Saying to people that you died is the hardest part for me. I can't do it without crying. I rather speak of your life, of the precious moments we had with you.

Your dad and I got many hugs in church from strangers. I'm not going to lie - it helps to get hugs. I like knowing that people are sad with us. Somehow, knowing that others are sharing in our pain helps me and makes me feel like we're not in this alone.

Your dad talked to the priest about resentment. I'm not sure what the priest said but your dad said it made him feel better. That's what counts.

I felt like I needed some air, so we left and walked home in the rain. I'm glad it was raining. I'm glad the skies were as gloomy as I was and that the rain drops mixed with my tears.