The hospital where Julian was born hosted a bilingual memorial service for babies who died after spending their brief lives there this afternoon at 2pm. I have been experiencing a constant, low-level anxiety all week leading up to this event. I guess I wasn't sure what to expect.
Apart from a few minor annoyances (way too many children, one of whom threw up too near to me; slight lack of organization; unnecessary and offensive opening remarks from the hospital chaplain who compared our collective loss to his golf game [did he really say that?] and claimed to know our pain because he has two children in their twenties [huh?] who were born in the same hospital), the service was very nice.
When we walked in, there was a board with a list of all the babies who had died in the hospital over the past year, as well as a board with photos we had submitted. I think about 50 families attended the service. There was also a program with writings many of the mothers had done for and/or about their children. The service included a few readings, some by parents, some by hospital staff.
One of the NICU nurses read the poem I wrote for Julian, which was quite moving. A woman with a lovely voice sang while her partner accompanied her on the piano. Then there was a candle lighting ceremony in which all the babies' names were read, and the families were invited to come light a candle in honor of their child(ren). The candles were decorated with the name of each baby (see above). Following the candle-lighting ceremony, we went out to the garden to plant bulbs around a tree dedicated in memory of all the NICU babies who didn't get to go home.
It was emotional as well as life-affirming to see all the children, the surviving siblings, enthusiastically plunging their hands into the soil. Of course, the downside is that we were also saddened by the fact that most of the other families had one or more living children, and we do not...
We drove home listening to Rufus Wainwright.
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