My wife suffered a miscarriage last fall. Last week - the first full week of June, 2016 - is when our baby would've been born. It's been an emotionally tough time lately.
We only had our baby for a week; we found out she was pregnant and she lost the baby just over a week later. It may not seem like much to some and it certainly wasn't a long time. But something we created, a human life, existed on this planet. Some people around us may have forgotten, and others may not want to bring it up because it's a sad and uncomfortable subject.
I firmly believe life begins at the moment of conception. This has nothing to do with the Catholic Church telling me so, but it is one of the many reasons I belong to the Church. It has to do with morals, a conscious belief that just because something hasn't taken its first independent breath doesn't mean a life doesn't exist. It absolutely does.
The pregnancy was a surprise, unplanned but not unwelcome... after the initial shock wore off. At first I was terrified and she was quite nervous, too. Our family & friends were supportive and the kids looked forward to it. We assured them that the love we had for them would not be affected by a new baby. We even posted a picture with our shoes and birth dates along with a pair of little tiny shoes drawn in chalk with the expected arrival date.
She knew something was wrong the next week and we spent a lot of time in the hospital. On the Friday when it was confirmed, when she called me at work to tell me the miscarriage had really happened, I rushed home from work and we spent a tear-filled afternoon holding each other, not saying much but comforting one another. It was one of the saddest, emotionally painful days of my life. My wife - a woman who knew from an early age she was meant to have kids and is the best Mom in the world to the ones we have - was robbed of another chance.
In the aftermath, the weeks immediately following, we were both on edge and communication between us was almost nil. Finally we confessed that we both held ourselves to blame, that there must've been something wrong with ourselves and our DNA, but that wasn't really the case. A miscarriage is nature's way of saying something was wrong and the baby wasn't meant to be and we know that. We also know that a soul, despite being unborn, is in Heaven and we both hope to meet her one day (yes, we both felt it would've been a little girl).
For a few weeks afterward I said hello to her out there in the sky as I was driving to work. I occasionally still do when I'm driving, or sitting out on the deck, or the thought of last Fall comes to mind... it's tough. But I wouldn't want to forget it, either.
So why am I writing about this subject? Because I need to, for me. Because we found out that one in four pregnancies end in a miscarriage. Some women may not even realize they've had one, and some have many and suffer over and over the same emotional heartbreak my wife did. I can't fathom the hurt they must feel and my heart & prayers go out to them all. We found out some women in our lives had them and never shared their story with us until we, too, had gone through it.
You may also be wondering why I'm using the term "we" here. I didn't suffer the physical loss, or the hormonal shifts afterward, or the postpartum depression. But as a man who fathered a child I'll never get to meet, it still cut me deeply, both in losing the child and seeing my wife - my soulmate - hurt like she did. I love her and when she's hurting, I'm hurting.
I'll end by saying this to those who've suffered this: you're not alone. It hurts like hell and things may never be quite the same, but you will be okay. I promise.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Sunday, June 5, 2016
My Faith: In the Beginning
I'm Catholic and proud to be so.
I wasn't raised Catholic; I wasn't raised in any Christian church though I was baptized Lutheran at four years old. I still remember it - all of the cousins were baptized at St. John's Lutheran church in Grand Haven, MI. I was little and to this day don't know exactly why that particular church was chosen. My grandmother's family was part of the Reformed church but my parents were married at St. John's, but why none of the others older than me had been baptized, I have no idea.
Grand Haven has more churches per square mile than most small communities and I tried a few in high school. The Baptist church in particular scared me because of how judgmental it was and how they believed only those who saw things exactly as they did were Heaven-bound. Another church was teaching its congregation not to fraternize with anyone who didn't attend its services because it was right, andanyone else would lead its members to Hell. Yes, I'm serious about that.
Pretty heavy stuff and certainly uncomfortable for me.
Then at age twenty, a friend of mine began RCIA (Right of Christian Initiation for Adults) classes through the local (and only) Catholic church in Grand Haven. Because of the Dutch Protestant heritage, there was a hefty anti-Catholic sentiment in our town. Even my own mother once made a comment about brain-washing... then again, the only times she's stepped foot in any church in the last forty-plus years is for weddings and funerals.
He invited me to come to these classes and I said yes. I don't know why, other than curiosity to find out more about a church and faith that held such mystery to me. I'd never been much for organized religion of any kind (especially given the experiences above), and was bordering on agnosticism...
Anyway, I began attending informational classes and eventually attended Mass for the first time in November 2002. I sat off to the side of the congregation and didn't participate much, but something happened to me that I'd never experienced before: I felt comfortable. I felt at home. A light was lit inside me.
I attended every RCIA class and dove into my new-found faith with fervor. I read books, watched documentaries, attended Mass, befriended older members of the church to find out about their personal histories, and generally took to the Catholic faith like a fish to water.
The people of the church were friendly, the staff was helpful, and the priest - Father Bill Langlois, of whom I've written about many times - was & remains one of the most inspirational people in my life. Catholic or not, he treats everyone with respect and dignity, with open arms and welcomes them as friends. While he would have obvious disagreements with other Christian denominations (and faiths), he never condemns them or accuses their church leaders of leading them astray or toward eternal damnation. That is an example we should all aspire to.
(My best friend is an agnostic and we've had many positive discussions about church, faith, and what it takes to be a good person. I disagree with him but don't judge him)
I was confirmed into the Catholic Church on Easter, 2003. It stands as one of the few moments when my life was flooded with pure joy and I'll never forget the feeling of peace, of happiness, that filled my soul that night. Everyone I knew recognized the difference in me: I was filled with the Holy Spirit, even if that's not how they felt. And they were happy for me, including my Mom.
For many people, including a lot of Catholics themselves, reconciling the Church's bloody past (the Inquisitions, anyone?) and modern-day shame (abuse scandals) is hard. I actually joined the church at the height of that scandal and to this day, I'm certain the abusive priests and those who covered it up have a special place in Hell waiting for them. There's no defending those who hurt children.
But personally, I see it like this: the Church is imperfect and always will be because it is lead by Man. The faith - that Christ is my Savior and I will reach Heaven only through Him - is perfect. I don't agree with every decision or detail about the Church but its morals and mine are on the same wavelength. That isn't affected by any priest or Pope (though Pope Francis is certainly one of the better leaders our Church has seen in a long time).
I wasn't raised Catholic; I wasn't raised in any Christian church though I was baptized Lutheran at four years old. I still remember it - all of the cousins were baptized at St. John's Lutheran church in Grand Haven, MI. I was little and to this day don't know exactly why that particular church was chosen. My grandmother's family was part of the Reformed church but my parents were married at St. John's, but why none of the others older than me had been baptized, I have no idea.
Grand Haven has more churches per square mile than most small communities and I tried a few in high school. The Baptist church in particular scared me because of how judgmental it was and how they believed only those who saw things exactly as they did were Heaven-bound. Another church was teaching its congregation not to fraternize with anyone who didn't attend its services because it was right, andanyone else would lead its members to Hell. Yes, I'm serious about that.
Pretty heavy stuff and certainly uncomfortable for me.
Then at age twenty, a friend of mine began RCIA (Right of Christian Initiation for Adults) classes through the local (and only) Catholic church in Grand Haven. Because of the Dutch Protestant heritage, there was a hefty anti-Catholic sentiment in our town. Even my own mother once made a comment about brain-washing... then again, the only times she's stepped foot in any church in the last forty-plus years is for weddings and funerals.
He invited me to come to these classes and I said yes. I don't know why, other than curiosity to find out more about a church and faith that held such mystery to me. I'd never been much for organized religion of any kind (especially given the experiences above), and was bordering on agnosticism...
Anyway, I began attending informational classes and eventually attended Mass for the first time in November 2002. I sat off to the side of the congregation and didn't participate much, but something happened to me that I'd never experienced before: I felt comfortable. I felt at home. A light was lit inside me.
I attended every RCIA class and dove into my new-found faith with fervor. I read books, watched documentaries, attended Mass, befriended older members of the church to find out about their personal histories, and generally took to the Catholic faith like a fish to water.
The people of the church were friendly, the staff was helpful, and the priest - Father Bill Langlois, of whom I've written about many times - was & remains one of the most inspirational people in my life. Catholic or not, he treats everyone with respect and dignity, with open arms and welcomes them as friends. While he would have obvious disagreements with other Christian denominations (and faiths), he never condemns them or accuses their church leaders of leading them astray or toward eternal damnation. That is an example we should all aspire to.
(My best friend is an agnostic and we've had many positive discussions about church, faith, and what it takes to be a good person. I disagree with him but don't judge him)
I was confirmed into the Catholic Church on Easter, 2003. It stands as one of the few moments when my life was flooded with pure joy and I'll never forget the feeling of peace, of happiness, that filled my soul that night. Everyone I knew recognized the difference in me: I was filled with the Holy Spirit, even if that's not how they felt. And they were happy for me, including my Mom.
For many people, including a lot of Catholics themselves, reconciling the Church's bloody past (the Inquisitions, anyone?) and modern-day shame (abuse scandals) is hard. I actually joined the church at the height of that scandal and to this day, I'm certain the abusive priests and those who covered it up have a special place in Hell waiting for them. There's no defending those who hurt children.
But personally, I see it like this: the Church is imperfect and always will be because it is lead by Man. The faith - that Christ is my Savior and I will reach Heaven only through Him - is perfect. I don't agree with every decision or detail about the Church but its morals and mine are on the same wavelength. That isn't affected by any priest or Pope (though Pope Francis is certainly one of the better leaders our Church has seen in a long time).
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