I attended a gathering for bereaved mothers over Mother’s Day weekend. One of the moms at my table shared details of delivering her baby that she knew to be stillborn; quite similar to my daughter’s birth story. Later that evening, I attended the Saturday vigil mass. I will admit that at times during the mass my mind wanders. I allow it because I often feel this to be a way of the Holy Spirit guiding my thoughts. As I was kneeling and watching the priest consecrate the Eucharist, I replayed in my mind a small part of the mom’s birth story from earlier that day. Without providing too much detail, there was a moment when a potential plan for a c-section was discussed but due to some reasons, the doctor and mom did not opt for the surgery. The mom touched on how agonizing it was to have to push during labor, knowing all the while that her baby’s heart was not beating. It made me remember the labor pains I felt (through the unsuccessful epidural) in the moments of contractions, knowing my baby’s heart was not beating. I felt my life was upside down. I was lost, hopeless, and disheartened. I wanted to give up. I had no fight within me knowing the outcome. I knew what the finish line entailed and it made the physical pain all the more intensified.
As I was kneeling in church, I reflected on this mom considering not going through a natural delivery to avoid short-term physical pain. I tried to imagine if my epidural was effective, and if I had experienced minimal pain during delivery. To my surprise, the idea of that saddened me. I think of the labor pains now as a connection with my daughter. It is something we did and battled together. The pain and suffering and feelings of not having anything left inside to fight for. That is something I did for my baby. It was an act of love, the love I have for my baby. I would do it all over again if I knew I would have the chance to hold her again. My mind at this point reminded me that I was still at church and the most sacred part of the mass was occurring.
I opened my eyes and looked up at Jesus on the cross. A pierced heart, broken bones, nailed to a tree, and a crown of thorns. Jesus was tortured and crucified. He suffered. He knows physical pain. He did it for love. Similar to having gone through the pain for the love of my baby, so too has Jesus for the love of us. Through all of our sufferings in life, we find a connection to Christ.
