From a Funeral to A Birth

…and other whirlwind family stories.

Joy and Sorrow, Sorrow and Joy. As our Aunt Vita lay in hospice care, my sister wrote about how these two experiences often go hand in hand. 

Every family has their tragedy, their sorrow, their untimely loss. Cancer, heart attacks, car accidents. We’d had ours when Vita died after battling breast cancer on and off for a decade. Okay, I thought. We can’t expect to go through life unscathed. We’re not special. Every family suffers. Okay. I accepted it with sorrow, but hoped that would be it for awhile. 

To think that death would strike again so soon, so close, so suddenly - was unimaginable. 

We had begun picking up the pieces. Two years later, and two more babies on the way. So much joy! And we gathered to celebrate our Beloved Aunt Rae’s birthday. It was an excuse to get together again just two weeks after Christmas. And my brother and sister-in-law were due with their first child in just one more week. What a blessing!

But perplexingly, Aunt Rae didn’t show up to her own birthday party. We made casual excuses as to why, (“she must have fallen asleep” or “her car broke down and her phone isn’t working,”) but those eventually gave way to a sinking worry that something could actually be wrong. But -- it could not possibly be - that. No. No way.

But when a policeman pulled up after we had given permission to break into her house, we knew it was - in fact - the worst case scenario. The screams and wailing that came after are not sounds we will soon forget.  We would learn later that she died of a heart attack.

How could this be? Surely my mom would not lose BOTH her sisters in such a short time!  I couldn’t wrap my heart around it. 

And with a baby coming in only one more week! Vita had died two months before my brother’s wedding. And now we would be facing another huge loss just a week before his first child was to be born. 

The anticipation of a new life as we prepared to say goodbye to another was a strange experience.

Especially as my sister-in-law, Danielle, starting showing labor signs the night before the wake. Now anxiety. Worry. A weird kind of guilt. “Where’s Danielle?” friends and family asked as they greeted us in the receiving line. “Um, she’s at home having contractions…” repeated my brother over and over. That night, they finally left for the hospital, Greg having resigned to missing his aunt’s funeral all together. 

It seemed like another worst-case scenario. What if the baby was born while we were all tied up with funeral stuff? And no one could be there to welcome it? I felt bad for my brother and his wife. This was not what they imagined. I felt stressed for my mom. She was trying to bury her sister while worrying about her son. 

Saturday morning, we found ourselves at the funeral, and still no baby. My brother was texting us updates, one centimeter at a time. We couldn’t believe this baby had held on so long. Was the baby waiting for everything to be over? Was it wrong of me to feel so distracted - to feel - excited? The joy and sadness swirled into a tie dye of emotions inside of me, as we waited for that magic number for her to start pushing.

We got through the repast. We went home, collapsed on the furniture. And then, finally, it was time! Emotionally exhausted, we all headed to the hospital, some of us still in funeral clothes. From a cemetery to a maternity ward. From a funeral to a birth. From death to life. 

Greg and Danielle had waited to be surprised by the baby’s gender. And I think by now, we all secretly hoped it would be a girl.  Maybe that would help us feel that Aunt Rae was still with us.

And after a couple hours, my brother walked out into the waiting area holding two baseball caps - a blue and a pink one. And with a swift movement of the arm came the climax of the day. He threw down the blue hat and twirled the pink one onto his head, and then held his arms out to the happy, jumping screeches of his family. 

They had picked out “Lena Grace” for the girls’ name. But something became apparent throughout the week-- that perhaps another name was meant for Lena. As we were invited into the room two by two, we got to meet this new family member and read the birth certificate. There above the ink imprint of her two tiny feet, was the name, “Lena Rae.” 

That week was a whirlwind. It started in death and ended with life. Given the circumstances, the timing of everything was probably the best it could be (although my sister-in-law who bore 48 hours of labor pains might beg to differ.) I don’t know if Aunt Rae had anything to do with it, but I feel thankful nonetheless. Even with the immense shock of her sudden loss, when I look back on the day of her funeral, somehow I find myself smiling: surprised by joy.

Joy and Sorrow. Grief and Grace. 

This crazy, sad, hope-filled, beautiful life.