"Mis"carriage.

I have another confession to make.

I haven't been entirely truthful in this blog.  I've posted fairly "clean" or unemotional posts regarding life here.  I've done this out of respect for this community--not wanting to post only negative--and out of respect for my readers, since I really don't know who all of you are.  Because I have avoided some of the really difficult parts of my time here, I don't think I'm doing all of you, this community and you readers, justice.

A few of my classmates and friends know that this has been a rough two months.  It has been a fantastic two months and I really believe that I'm exactly where I need to be.  It has also been incredibly difficult.

Today marks exactly two months since I arrive in Pine Ridge.  In that time, I've participated in almost a dozen death-related events (i.e. wakes, funerals, memorials, etc.)  The first wake and funeral that I attended was for a 10 month old baby girl who drowned in the bathtub.  The second wake and funeral that I attended was for a three year-old boy who was killed when his mother drove home drunk with him in the car.  These two occurred in the same week; these two children were cousins.

Death has slowed down a bit since that first intense time, but I'm still surrounded by it.  Today is Wednesday, and in the last two days, since Monday is my day off, I've taken at least four phone calls from family members looking for help with their deceased loved one's wake and funeral.  People have actually begun to describe death here on the Rez as an epidemic.  People are dying too often and at far too young of an age.  The average life expectancy for men is early 50s.

The most recent "death" experience was being invited to do a service at the home of a woman who had a miscarriage.  The miscarriage happened early enough into the pregnancy that she didn't even know the sex of the baby; however, we still held a service, much like a funeral, to honor the child and grieve with the family.

I wasn't sure what to expect going into this, since I hadn't been to anyone's home here, nor have I ever formally tried to process a miscarriage with someone through a worship setting.  I was really thankful to be there though, since it felt right to acknowledge the death of this child.  So often, I hear the word "miscarriage" and I feel like the word itself implies wrong action or an incomplete action.  I guess a child dying in utero is an incomplete action, you could say, but it's not a "wrong" action.  Some close friends of mine had a miscarriage last year and I struggled with how to walk with them in their grieving, as well as my own grieving.

How do we honor parents who have experienced the death of a child in the womb?  Do we have a funeral?  What about a memorial service?  Perhaps some prayers?  Or do we just let it slip by, not wanting to force parents to deal with the death of a child?

This mother carried a child, as did my friend.  The child didn't suddenly go missing by some negligence, but the child died.  I think if we pretend that a child dying in utero is not painful, or worse yet, if that mother and father didn't begin to experience the life of that child, then we are lying to ourselves.  While this service was simple and allowed for space to acknowledge that the child had been created and was a precious creation, it also allowed the family to grieve the death of this child, mourning the future incompletes that were to come.

I wish I had some profound reflection on this otherwise, but it's late and I'm tired.  I'm not feeling particularly eloquent, but I am thankful for the way that this family chose to grieve together.  I also hope that we continue, as a society, to reflect on ways of talking about families and children, knowing that so many people in our midst have experienced the death of a child in utero, not knowing what the life could have held for their precious infant.