Burial
We had several choices for what we could do with Loila’s remains: have them cremated, bury them, or allow the hospital to dispose of them (“respectfully,” I was assured.) We left her at the hospital for two months while we grappled with that decision and everything else. I wrote in my journal, “Some days, I think I would like [to bury her]. Sometimes I think it would be too much effort, or too much emotion.”
In January, “After a lot of uncertainty and no sure answer, I decided to trust Andrew’s feelings that burying her remains would be a good thing to do.” Because my pregnancy ended before the 20 week point, we were legally allowed to bury her privately, anywhere we chose. My uncle had a ranch on the Waterton River: a beautiful and peaceful little nook in the foothills. It had been my grandfather’s when I was growing up and was suffused with warm memories from my childhood. In recent years, it had become our favorite camping spot. With my uncle and aunt’s blessing, we decided take our children and hold an informal service there.
I felt ambivalent and rushed, going into it. The weather was unseasonably warm and the ground wasn’t frozen, but it wouldn’t likely stay that way, so we had to act fast. I was worried (and I’m sorry to admit that I was worried) that people would think it was weird that we were having a burial for “just a miscarriage.”
I wrote in my journal:
But there were moments that felt very right. Holding the box with the remains of my baby, feeling something of a physical connection again. It was peaceful, and good, and not even that sad. And the Spirit was so strong, and so peaceful, at that gravesite. We prayed as a family, sang songs, and Andrew and I shared our testimonies. The children helped dig the hole and cover it up again, laid flowers on the grave. [One of them] said, “I don’t see why it’s so sad, when we know we’ll see her again.” And I have a picture in my mind of a big rock under the trees, in the shelter of the hill, snow falling like a blanket over it all.
We went camping there again a year or two later. There was a hawk living somewhere near that corner of the ranch. I heard it call as it soared in large circles above the gravesite. To me it was a fierce and yet loving guardian, keeping watch over Loila.
