Graceful Parenting in Austin

Grace was born at 10:45 am on Saturday, March 31, 2007. I was so scared to see her. I was scared to see how small she would be and scared I would break if I held her in my arms. I was only four months pregnant when Grace was born.

Grace was beautiful. She had a perfect face and a cute little nose. She had ten fingers and ten toes. She moved a little, but not with regular breaths or open eyes or hands that could wrap around your finger. I hoped she knew I was holding her. Grace weighed 8 ounces and was 9 inches long. She was my baby girl.

My husband and I talked to Grace and told her we loved her. I told her I was sorry I didn’t take better care of her. Sean asked her to forgive us, which he said she did, but I didn’t believe it, not yet.

Grace was with us for one hour and fifty-five minutes. My parents and brother held her and rocked her and talked to her. We took pictures to help us remember her. Then I held her until she passed away.

Everyone said there was nothing I could have done, but I knew that wasn’t true. My logical mind didn’t know something was wrong, but deep inside, I knew. Instead of calling my doctor or going the the hospital, I finished projects at work, I ran errands for the house, I got things done. I wasn’t listening to my intuition or paying attention to my heart. I had a week to save Grace, but instead, I arrived at the hospital a few hours too late.

I was lost in a place where a good day meant I had completed many tasks, instead of meaning I had shown love for my family. Where there wasn’t time for pausing and listening, because there was too many things to do. I didn’t feel like I ever accomplished enough at work or at home, so I focused on accomplishing more, instead of wondering what exactly I was trying to accomplish in the first place.

After losing Grace, I was sad and angry and guilty and I considered spending the rest of my days with these feelings, making friends with them, nurturing them and experiencing everything through their filter. But this time I stopped and listened. This time I took a deep breath and listened to my heart. This is not what Grace would have wanted.

If I was missing balance and peace in my life before Grace, maybe the way to honor Grace now would be to look for balance and peace now. Maybe the energy I could spend with my sadness, anger and guilt would be better spent trying to be the person I wish I was before I lost her. This is how I will honor Grace.

My first lesson in balance came from Grace’s twin sister, who I will call Baby Girl. When my husband and I lost Grace, the doctors said we would loose both of our twin girls and we began plans for a memorial service for them both. But with great doctors, a risky surgery and a million prayers, I was pregnant with Baby Girl for eleven more weeks and she was born early, but healthy. We were so saddened by the loss of Grace, but also so hopeful and grateful for our Baby Girl.

We planted a Senna tree for Grace in our backyard, a young tree with yellow flowers and room to grow. I can see it from the nursery window, a reminder to honor Grace and love all of my family the best I can every day.