The Hard Road to Recovery: Healing After Stillbirth - The Thanksgiving Service
That was something that made the harsh reality of losing one of my sons sink in for sure, organising his funeral. We couldn't believe we were going to be in that awful category of saying goodbye to one of our children - it is just the wrong way around. No parent should have to say goodbye to their child(ren) - it just isn't the natural process of life.
My husband was a superstar, sweeping in to arrange it, to take the weight off my shoulders. We couldn't set a date as we waited for the post mortem to be completed (Benjamin's little body was whisked off to Great Ormond Street Hospital to have the post mortem carried out). We didn't like the term "funeral" or "wake. We wanted to make saying goodbye to our son as bright and positive as we could, and so we called it his "Thanksgiving service". Giving thanks for his life, for our joy at having known him even if only on ultrasound scans, seeing him wrestle his brother, and cuddle him.
We kept it fairly intimate, inviting only close family, close friends and the godparents of our little boys.
Having had no sense of what was or wasn't right or appropriate for a child's thanksgiving service, we made it up as we went along, constructing the service we thought Benjamin would want. The chaplain helped us organise everything as the thought of trying to sort everything ourselves was too much to bear. We knew we wanted (being a christian family) live worship at the service, we knew we wanted prayer cover for our family, the godparents of our boys and our close friends, and that was about it. My husband worked so hard on putting together the most beautiful order of service for the service, we planned to have it professionally printed so that it could go in Benjamin's keepsake box. We organised for Staples to print out enough copies for everyone at the service the day before the service. And guess what...they cocked it up. The order of service looked awful and all of my husband's hard work seemed to be a waste. So he sorted printing it himself so that it could look as we wanted it. We included on it a message to Benjamin, albeit short as we had said our goodbyes in that delivery suite room the day after he was born (more on that in another post).
I felt quite numb on the day of the service, feeling as though I were going to any other church service. It wasn't until we pulled up and saw all of our closest friends and family stood in the car park of the crematorium waiting for us that it became a reality. They are here for us. They are here for Benjamin. This is all for Benjamin. I held back tears as friends and family grabbed us and sadness poured out of their eyes for our loss as well as their own. I remember keeping things jovial and focused on Nathanael so as not to lose the plot, it worked for a short while.
We all walked on mass to the entrance to the crematorium where the pall bearer asked my husband if he wanted to carry Benjamin down the aisle. We couldn't believe he was being asked the moment before he had to go down the aisle and we were too emotional to do it! We followed Benjamin into the chapel and "Abide with Me" played in the background. It all started sinking in. Seeing that tiny little white coffin at the front. That was my son in there. My tiny little angel. It all came down on me like a lead balloon. I sobbed beside my husband whilst breastfeeding my little survivor.
The three of us sat on that front row sobbing, mourning the loss of our little B. How could the world be so cruel. The service only lasted 30 minute. It was over so quickly, but in a way that felt better, like ripping off a plaster, the only difference being, this wound would never full heal. It was so hard to experience, but in that moment, I was so glad to rejoice in Benjamin's life and to hold an event that showed the world "Look, this is my son. This is Nathanael's twin brother. This is my blood. And although we cannot be together in this world, we will be together one day in heaven."
My husband was a superstar, sweeping in to arrange it, to take the weight off my shoulders. We couldn't set a date as we waited for the post mortem to be completed (Benjamin's little body was whisked off to Great Ormond Street Hospital to have the post mortem carried out). We didn't like the term "funeral" or "wake. We wanted to make saying goodbye to our son as bright and positive as we could, and so we called it his "Thanksgiving service". Giving thanks for his life, for our joy at having known him even if only on ultrasound scans, seeing him wrestle his brother, and cuddle him.
We kept it fairly intimate, inviting only close family, close friends and the godparents of our little boys.
Having had no sense of what was or wasn't right or appropriate for a child's thanksgiving service, we made it up as we went along, constructing the service we thought Benjamin would want. The chaplain helped us organise everything as the thought of trying to sort everything ourselves was too much to bear. We knew we wanted (being a christian family) live worship at the service, we knew we wanted prayer cover for our family, the godparents of our boys and our close friends, and that was about it. My husband worked so hard on putting together the most beautiful order of service for the service, we planned to have it professionally printed so that it could go in Benjamin's keepsake box. We organised for Staples to print out enough copies for everyone at the service the day before the service. And guess what...they cocked it up. The order of service looked awful and all of my husband's hard work seemed to be a waste. So he sorted printing it himself so that it could look as we wanted it. We included on it a message to Benjamin, albeit short as we had said our goodbyes in that delivery suite room the day after he was born (more on that in another post).
I felt quite numb on the day of the service, feeling as though I were going to any other church service. It wasn't until we pulled up and saw all of our closest friends and family stood in the car park of the crematorium waiting for us that it became a reality. They are here for us. They are here for Benjamin. This is all for Benjamin. I held back tears as friends and family grabbed us and sadness poured out of their eyes for our loss as well as their own. I remember keeping things jovial and focused on Nathanael so as not to lose the plot, it worked for a short while.
We all walked on mass to the entrance to the crematorium where the pall bearer asked my husband if he wanted to carry Benjamin down the aisle. We couldn't believe he was being asked the moment before he had to go down the aisle and we were too emotional to do it! We followed Benjamin into the chapel and "Abide with Me" played in the background. It all started sinking in. Seeing that tiny little white coffin at the front. That was my son in there. My tiny little angel. It all came down on me like a lead balloon. I sobbed beside my husband whilst breastfeeding my little survivor.
The three of us sat on that front row sobbing, mourning the loss of our little B. How could the world be so cruel. The service only lasted 30 minute. It was over so quickly, but in a way that felt better, like ripping off a plaster, the only difference being, this wound would never full heal. It was so hard to experience, but in that moment, I was so glad to rejoice in Benjamin's life and to hold an event that showed the world "Look, this is my son. This is Nathanael's twin brother. This is my blood. And although we cannot be together in this world, we will be together one day in heaven."
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