This photo was taken at 4 PM on Friday, before I really started a strong labor. The priest walked into my room, pointed his finger at me and said "I know you!" I said "I know you too!" This is Father Cashmir, a missionary from Nigeria. He baptized my Tess in the NICU three years ago.
Right before this moment we had a prayer service. We prayed something from Catholic Mass book that had a long verse from Lamentations. I need to find that verse because it was very powerful. It talked about having trouble praying to God in sorrow and said "I've lost my future, Lord." That really hit me in my gut.
That is what the grief of miscarriage is to me. A loss of my future. It didn't matter in that moment that I had 5 beautiful living kids, a happy marriage, or a sweet life in a cute house. Leo's death meant that I lost a specific dream of my future. I lost the chance at a loving relationship with a new son. I lost the chance to hold him as a newborn,to ruffle his hair when he visited us from college, and watch him walk out my front door to play golf with his Dad at age 45. In that prayer service, I gave myself permission to mourn Leo for a few seconds as if I had lost an only child. Leo's future life with me was that irreplacable.
Afterwards, I felt great. That's always strange with God. I take a moment to truly pray. I let myself feel all my emotions. Then I feel a peaceful release. After the prayer service Father Cashmir sat calmly by my bedside and talked about his credit card debit. Three years ago, that would have shocked me. That day I took it in stride. I thought "Yeah, that is how holy people roll. One moment your deeply praying the words of the Old Testament, and then you're back joking about the trials of ordinary life."