It is always difficult when a family member passes away. It is especially hard when the family member is a child, more so when the child is unborn. I know. It happened to our family.
The year was 1998. My stepdaughter, Angie was pregnant with her first child. Everyone in my family was excited, including me. I was going to be a grandfather! An ultrasound revealed that the child was female. I was soon to have a granddaughter to love (and spoil!) She would be called Tara Rose. We went through the usual pre-birth activities, like purchasing baby items and clothing and getting ready for the impending arrival.
It was October and Angie had carried the baby almost to term. But one day she awoke in severe pain. Angie called her obstetrician, who told her to come to see him immediately. She was given an examination and ultrasound, which revealed the worst news possible: Angie had suffered a spontaneous abortion, commonly called a miscarriage. The baby was dead. We were devastated.
Angie was immediately hospitalized. Tara needed to be delivered before the miscarriage endangered Angie's health. The whole family gathered at the hospital, and a delivery room was made ready. We waited in her hospital room while Angie was taken away to be attended to by the doctors. What should have been a joyous occasion was turning into one of the worst days of our lives. Soon a nurse entered the room and told us that the baby was out. They would be bringing Angie and Tara back to the room soon.
The hospital took a very sympathetic and compassionate attitude toward the miscarriage. For the sake of closure, we were allowed to see and hold Tara. Everyone there took a turn holding her while photographs were taken. Scissors were produced so that locks of hair could be clipped for keepsakes. When it was my turn, I held her lifeless little body and looked at her face. She looked like an angel. I felt an intense sadness as I contemplated what would never be.
The doctor told us that Tara's umbilical cord had somehow become kinked or obstructed, cutting off the supply of vital nutrients.
We said goodbye to Tara on a brisk and windy fall day. She was placed into a tiny white casket and buried in Rock Island's Chippiannock Cemetery, in a special section reserved for babies and children. Angie knelt down and gently touched the lid of the casket before it was lowered into the ground. My heart ached for her.
It took a while, but we all moved on. Angie later had two more babies, both girls. Alex, now 12 years old, and Ella, 7 years old, are bright, beautiful, happy, and healthy. Angie had special prenatal care while carrying both of them in order to prevent a repeat of what happened with Tara. Alex and Ella miss the older sister they never knew, and like to visit the cemetery to place flowers, toys, and balloons on Tara's grave.
Tara's birthday is October 17. She would be 14 years old, in her first year of high school and embarking on all the adventures that high school brings. I sometimes wonder what she would be like. Would she be pretty? Smart? Athletic? Popular? One thing I know for sure: she would be loved.
No comments:
Post a Comment