Community and the First Set of Baptisms
This morning was the first set of baptisms at our church since we had Isabella. Two young boys were baptized, one about six months old the other just over four months old. The younger was born earlier the same day that Isabella died.
Months before, we had asked our community group at church to sit with us whenever there were baptisms. We knew that we wanted to witness the baptisms within the church and participate in the congregational pledge to help other parents raise their children in the Lord. When we found out last week that there would be some today, one of the women mobilized friends. Our entire row and the row behind us was filled with people supporting us. Having their presence helped us remember that, even though Isabella will never be a visible presence growing up in the church, her life matters and she is still part of the community.
The lead up to the baptism was surprisingly heart wrenching. Grandparents had come into town specifically for the occasion, and we could not help but picture more of what we had lost by not having Isabella still alive. None of her grandparents will ever see her baptized. We miss being able to watch our parents be her grandparents in person, to see the interactions, and for them to have that relationship. We had also pictured that one of my husband's roommates from college would be present. When he found out we were pregnant, he said he would come down for the baptism. Instead, he flew down for her funeral.
None of the relationships we desired for Isabella have turned out the way we pictured. Our pastor has five children and we were looking forward to benefiting from their knowledge of child rearing when it came to getting her to sleep through the night, discipline, potty training, etc. Instead, our pastor shared in mourning while in the NICU immediately following her death. He said a modified version of the typical baptism, more like a dedication, since he did not actually baptize her. After watching our pastor with our daughter and family, my husband and I immediately knew that not having the opportunity to baptize her with the whole church present was something that we would mourn.
This morning, watching the families up front with their children was a tremendous mixture of emotions. On the one hand, we are incredibly grateful that no one else at our church has had to recently bury a child, although miscarriage is a present and continual reality. It remains a relief to see these babies growing up, healthy and quickly. On the other hand, every fiber of our beings yearns for our daughter. We miss her and had longed for her official presentation to the church. After a baptism, the pastor always walks around the room with the child and says something along the lines of, "This is your sister/brother, name. She is made in God's image. Welcome her into the body of Christ and encourage her in the Lord. Support her parents and help them to raise her in a godly home." It's a beautiful picture of belonging and union in the body of Christ.
I had brought tissues, but did not bring enough.
The couple whose son was born a few hours before our daughter died in June, hugged us and cried with us as they walked back to their seats. In their arms was their son, hair wet from the baptism. We all miss seeing our children grow up together.
Throughout the service, we continued to feel the community around us. We cried during communion when our pastor hugged us and cried with us. The morning was filled with hugs and tears from people who love Isabella, love us, and mourn with us. I am humbled almost daily by the number of people who grieve with us. One of the women from our community group said she visited Isabella's grave this morning with her daughter, a toddler.
Had Isabella not died, we would just be smiles at baptisms. We would have never truly realized what a blessing children are and how we are not guaranteed years with them. We recognize that the promises spoken about during the baptism are still true for our daughter, but are realized on a different timetable. We already have the assurance that she is with the Lord, forever in his presence. In that way, we will not spend the years praying that God calls her to himself, since he already has. We will continue to support and share in the joy of the parents whose children were baptized today, those children who would have been her playmates here.
Months before, we had asked our community group at church to sit with us whenever there were baptisms. We knew that we wanted to witness the baptisms within the church and participate in the congregational pledge to help other parents raise their children in the Lord. When we found out last week that there would be some today, one of the women mobilized friends. Our entire row and the row behind us was filled with people supporting us. Having their presence helped us remember that, even though Isabella will never be a visible presence growing up in the church, her life matters and she is still part of the community.
The lead up to the baptism was surprisingly heart wrenching. Grandparents had come into town specifically for the occasion, and we could not help but picture more of what we had lost by not having Isabella still alive. None of her grandparents will ever see her baptized. We miss being able to watch our parents be her grandparents in person, to see the interactions, and for them to have that relationship. We had also pictured that one of my husband's roommates from college would be present. When he found out we were pregnant, he said he would come down for the baptism. Instead, he flew down for her funeral.
None of the relationships we desired for Isabella have turned out the way we pictured. Our pastor has five children and we were looking forward to benefiting from their knowledge of child rearing when it came to getting her to sleep through the night, discipline, potty training, etc. Instead, our pastor shared in mourning while in the NICU immediately following her death. He said a modified version of the typical baptism, more like a dedication, since he did not actually baptize her. After watching our pastor with our daughter and family, my husband and I immediately knew that not having the opportunity to baptize her with the whole church present was something that we would mourn.
I had brought tissues, but did not bring enough.
The couple whose son was born a few hours before our daughter died in June, hugged us and cried with us as they walked back to their seats. In their arms was their son, hair wet from the baptism. We all miss seeing our children grow up together.
Throughout the service, we continued to feel the community around us. We cried during communion when our pastor hugged us and cried with us. The morning was filled with hugs and tears from people who love Isabella, love us, and mourn with us. I am humbled almost daily by the number of people who grieve with us. One of the women from our community group said she visited Isabella's grave this morning with her daughter, a toddler.
Had Isabella not died, we would just be smiles at baptisms. We would have never truly realized what a blessing children are and how we are not guaranteed years with them. We recognize that the promises spoken about during the baptism are still true for our daughter, but are realized on a different timetable. We already have the assurance that she is with the Lord, forever in his presence. In that way, we will not spend the years praying that God calls her to himself, since he already has. We will continue to support and share in the joy of the parents whose children were baptized today, those children who would have been her playmates here.
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One Day.