My tradition after having a baby, either at home or from the hospital, was to take up residence on the living room couch. There I could rest in comfort but I could still be part of what the family was doing, the kids could still come up to me and talk to me, and I felt like I was in the center of all the activity. How odd it felt to retire to that couch this time without my baby. Peter picked up Raphael and wrapped him in a little baby blanket and put him in the a gift box that we had. I longed to hold him and kiss him, but at the same time that wasn’t who this child was… I wanted my live baby back.
A few days earlier I had called a local funeral home and told them that I was going to miscarry my baby and that I wanted them to come and pick up the baby when it was born. I was afraid that if I had the baby in the hospital, they would dispose of him as medical waste. As Raphael was born at home, I had to change my call to the funeral home. Peter called them and the younger owner was very agreeable to doing whatever we wanted. He came to our home personally and picked up our son’s body later that morning.
I have to say that this funeral home director was just an exceptional person. He went to the doctor who performed the ultrasound earlier that week to get the death certificate signed, and the doctor wouldn’t sign it! We later discovered that because he was born at home, even though we had been under the care of this OB/GYN practice, and had called the hospital etc., it was going to be very difficult to get one. It also turns out that to get a burial plot you have to have one. I don’t know exactly how our director pulled this off, but he got us a plot in the Catholic Cemetery, where he is “provisionally” buried. That’s still kind of a joke to us when we go to the cemetery, “Remember Raphael, be good and no mischief, because you’re just here provisionally!!”
I spent the rest of the morning in a sleepy daze. I still chuckled over the events of the early morning, and I was amazed that my children heard none of the commotion. I had been afraid that this would be a big trauma for them but so far they had been spared most of it.
I spoke with my friends on the phone, my midwife came over to check me, my best friend from Michigan was going to come down to be with me, and Father Jackson called to help us make the final arrangements. My sister-in-law also sent us a copy of the Celtic Farewell that had been sung at my mother-in-law’s funeral so that we could have it for the baby’s funeral too.
The next day, friends volunteered to take our kids for the day. The kids were thrilled… they were all going places where they knew they would have a lot of fun with their friends. Peter and I spent the morning going to the funeral home to be with our baby. They had a room all ready for us complete with a rocking chair. I remember the funeral home worker said he would go down to get the baby and when he came back, he had the baby on top of the folded baby blanket that the church had given me. Raphael was laying on top, and this gentleman was carrying him like he was the the prize piece in the king’s jewels. He carried him with such dignity and honor. Too bad little Raphael was naked!! Too bad I didn’t have a gown that was small enough for him!
We held him, took pictures of him. He didn’t look as plump and cute as he had the day before, but still I wanted to capture that expression of peace on his face, and the very human pose he had chosen to go to sleep in. It turns out that Raphael couldn’t be moved off of his side, his hand under his cheek. That was how he was, that was how he was going to stay! The Funeral home let us have as much time as we needed.
I found out later that the St. Vincent DePaul Society at church heard about our baby and they purchased a casket and vault for him. That really was an unexpected blessing. Peter reminded me that years before, his father had been a very active member in the St. Vincent DePaul Society. Maybe St. Vincent was just paying him back this way. We were very grateful.
A few things stand out. One of my friends had lost a baby earlier that year and she was very helpful in getting me through this grief. She had mentioned that she had touched her baby daughter with a rosary and now that rosary was like a relic of her little saint. I loved that! Now we had tons of rosaries in the house, but most of them were the little plastic ones that my kids had made at Legion of Mary. I decided to buy a very nice “grown up” rosary for myself and Raphael. I chose a pearl rosary with a gold chain and cross. The funeral home was very nice about letting me come over on short notice so that I could touch my rosary to my son. By this time Raphael was in his little casket. It was the smallest casket available, but he still seemed tiny in it. They had covered him up with the receiving blanket we gave them. He was by then really showing signs of decomposition, but I still touched him with the cross, the center piece and one of the beads of the rosary. That was the last time I saw him. He is buried on top of the beautiful blanket the church gave us, and covered with a receiving blanket from home. If his grave is discovered buy archeologists thousands of years ago, I hope they can see that he was loved.
To be continued
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