Stories of Other Loss
Memories of Miranda
by Aunt Mary, University City, U.S.A.
On December 18, 1992, my niece was scheduled to be born by C-section. My sister-in-law was 10 days past her due date, and her birthday was also December 18th, so she agreed to be induced and share her daughter’s birthday. She and her husband had been married for 7 years and had tried for a long time to conceive. Finally, she became pregnant and the entire family was so thrilled! There were already numerous nieces and nephews in the family, and we couldn’t wait for the arrival of the next one. We enjoyed the baby showers and watching the work progress on the baby’s nursery. They would be such perfect parents, we all felt. The pregnancy was entirely uneventful, and my niece developed perfectly. My sister-in-law felt her kicking all day, and arrived at the hospital just after midnight on 12/18/92, as per doctor’s orders. She settled in and eventually they hooked her up to the monitors. Then came the terrible news that my niece had died in utero sometime earlier that evening. It turned out that my sister-in-law’s labor had quietly begun and my niece had shifted down toward the birth canal, tightening the umbilical cord that was already wound around her neck and shutting off her oxygen supply. Things proceeded and my sister-in-law had to endure the labor and deliver her baby, knowing it would be stillborn. She was given ample anaesthetics, so at least the physical pain was minimized. I can’t even begin to imagine her and her husband’s emotional torture, which must have been simply unendurable. Since it was the middle of the night, only my mother-in-law (Mary’s mother, in town) was immediately notified. The rest of siblings and in-laws gradually received the news that morning. I was at work, and my husband called me. (My sister-in-law is his sister.) When I answered the phone, he said simply, “Mary had the baby.” At first I didn’t realize what had happened and I was overjoyed. I said, “Oh, great!! What was it, a boy or a girl?” He said dully, “A girl. But she didn’t make it.”. A roar filled my head as this sank in. All the background noise around me in the office receded and all I could think of was what I had just heard on the phone. I said, “What do you mean?? What happened?” He said grimly, “The baby died. I don’t really know any details. But it was a girl and she’s gone.”. I was absolutely horrified and could barely speak. I just stared at the computer on my desk and said “Oh my God.”. There was a huge lump in my throat and tears came to my eyes. I simply could not believe this was happening. Finally my husband said, “Well I better get back to work.”. I said “OK. Bye.”. We both hung up. We were both in shock. We just couldn’t deal with it, it was too unimagineable. I wandered numbly around the office, telling my co-workers one-by-one. I felt shell-shocked. I kept saying to anyone who would listen, “This can’t possibly be! It can’t have happened! I was just at one of her baby showers last week!! She has the whole room ready, she has everything she needs for her baby! It’s impossible!!”. I called my brother-in-law at the hospital just to say how sorry I was. We both had to struggle to speak through tears. He said that Mary was too distraught to speak on the phone. It was a week before Christmas, and as I drove home from work that afternoon, the cheery holiday decorations now seemed ghastly. My mother-in-law called the next day to alert us to Miranda’s obituary in the paper, and to tell us of the viewing/funeral arrangements. I clipped her obituary and basked in horror and grim disbelief. Everything around me had a surreal quality. I couldn’t believe that something so horrific had happened. Yet the world was just going on as usual, almost everyone else completely unaware, which was utterly horrible. The next day, the day before the viewing, we gathered at Mary and Rob’s house. It was supposed to have been a dual celebration… that of Mary’s and Miranda’s shared birthday, and of Miranda’s homecoming. I mechanically remembered to bring Mary’s birthday present, bought many days before any of this happened, a winter sweater wrapped in festive paper. I remember that she participated in the grotesque charade and pretended to appreciate it. At one point I joined a group of female family members back in what was supposed to have been Miranda’s nursery. There was a huge computer-generated printout hanging on one of the walls that read, “Welcome Home, Miranda!”, still left poignantly hanging. There in the private haven of Miranda’s nursery, Mary showed us Polaroids that the nurses had taken of Miranda, heart-wrenching images of a perfect little girl, blue, limp, and lifeless… I had to breathe deeply… then to see the clipped hair sample, the little hand- and foot-prints… once again, I thought I would die... In the shower on the afternoon of the viewing, I sobbed. I couldn’t stand that Mary and Rob had to be going through this terrible tragedy. I couldn’t believe that we were all going to be attending a viewing of a niece whose arrival we had just been anticipating only a few days earlier. And just a few days before Christmas, to boot... It was cold and rainy that night as we arrived at the funeral parlor. Miranda lay still in the open casket, surrounded by immediate family members and somber funeral parlor employees. I embraced Mary, a painful lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. The rest of the family looked pale and grim, very subdued. It is a dignified and private family that I have married into, who do not display their emotions on their sleeves. Even to this day, 10 years later, I have no idea who -- if anyone outside me -- talks about this with Mary and Rob… : ( Anyway… I looked at Miranda and just died inside. So beautiful and perfect, nothing wrong at all physically except the ghastly freak accident of the umbilical cord. Looking so sweet and doll-like in her red and white frilly holiday dress and matching hat, that she was supposed to have worn to her first Christmas service. I ached to pick her up and embrace her. I remember almost bursting into tears at seeing a picture of Mary and Rob next to her, to accompany her forever in her burial. I thought I would lose my mind. How could Mary and Rob possibly be suriving this when I -- as an aunt-by-marriage and not even a mother yet -- was completely devastated? Miranda’s Grandma, Mary’s Mom, (my beloved mother-in-law Louise) seemed distraught beyond words and asked me with a terrible note of grief, “Do you think it would be OK if I took her picture?”. I didn’t know what to say. She had her camera poised, wanting to take Miranda’s picture in the coffin. I had no experience with this sort of thing and didn’t know what to say. I wish now, in hindsight, that I had said “Yes” and encouraged her to take as many pictures as she wanted. To this day I don’t know if she took even one. Maybe someday I will ask her. Two days later at the funeral, in the little “prep” room before the service, we once again all gathered, this time with Miranda in a closed casket. There with us, but in a small, closed, pink satin, perfect little incredibly tiny bread basket. Heart-breakingly tiny. There on the table in the middle of the room with all the close relatives assembled. Even the tearful young cousins who had been mercifully excluded from the viewing the night before were there, eyeing the tiny satin box with tears streaming. The ensuing funeral service is a blur, and my husband (Mary’s brother) could not bear to accompany the terrible series of cars that went on to the cemetary. So I never experienced the final burial, but I am OK with that, knowing my husband and his limitations. This December (2002) it will be ten years. I still deal with it. I will never forget what happened. I have written a letter of my experience, and also a poem as a tribute to my niece, and given them to my sister-in-law and her husband. Every anniversary, (which is also my sister-in-law’s birthday), I send flowers and a commemorative note to Mary and Rob. The good news is that, although their daughter Miranda died 12/18/92, their son Mark was born on 5/20/98, and their son Tommy was born on 4/28/01. Both boys are thriving, and in perfect health. Mary and Rob and incredibly good parents. I hope their trials and tribulations continue to recede as bittersweet memories in their past. Eternal love to Miranda,
your Aunt Mary (maryschroer@hotmail.com)
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