Last night

...at Fabricville, I met another woman in my family tree of grief. (I stole that term from Elizabeth McCracken, an author who writes about her experience in her book An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination)

I was buying light pink ribbon, meters and meters of it (50, to be exact) to wrap around little votive candles with Eva's picture and birth/death date, to be given out at her memorial mass. I figured I'd buy extra (I needed about 42 meters, by our calculations), and Natalie (my sister in law) said I could keep the rest if I have another daughter. So I smiled a funny smile and said "Yeah...." The saleswoman who had been helping us look and measure and choose said "Oh, how old is the baby?" So, I stopped, turned around and said, "Actually, I was pregnant, and we lost her at 23 weeks" and she said the best thing she could say in that moment. "Oh, honey, I lost a baby at 7 1/2 months, I understand. There's nothing anyone can say and most people say the wrong thing but this is all you can do." She opened her arms to me and I leaned forward and hugged her back. She went from a stranger, to someone who knows me better than many people. She said when it happened to her, people would say things like "At least you didn't get to know him", and I said "People like to tell me at least I'm young and I can have more", so she replied, paralleling what my heart says each time I hear that phrase "But you won't have her..."
So, after that I left that area to pay and turned back to her and said "I'll be thinking of you," to which she replied "I'll be thinking of you." Strange how not alone I am, that even in the fabric store, I find someone who understands and also wants to share.

Over supper with my in-laws last night, my mother in law (love her!) also asked Patrick what he would have wanted his brother to be named. Louise is another mother who understands. She lost a baby too. Patrick's twin brother. The boys were born at 30 weeks, and his brother lived only a few hours, a result of anencephaly. He's always been known as Pat's brother, or more officially Baby B or Bébé Deux. And so last night they named him. Benjamin Joseph Denis Cormier. Patrick's brother finally has a name. Louise said last night that she had always wanted to name him, but wanted Patrick to help. She wanted him to like the name. Now that he understands the loss too, it was the right time. We really like the name Ben, and will keep it on our list if we ever have a boy.

Then I spent hours trying little pink bows on candles, attaching my babygirl's picture. Louise and Natalie helped too, but had to leave to drive back home and sleep. It was a labour of love. Pat eventually went to bed and I stayed up and finished. They're really pretty, and I think I have enough to give them to some people I know would appreciate them. It was a good night. Still, I'm looking forward to tomorrow afternoon, when the mass will be over, and we can look to the future.