Mourning is a deep sorrow, common when someone has died, but can also be applied to other losses. I think of Anne of Green Gables, she describes it as “the depths of despair.” We all mourn differently; it is a deeply personal expression of our love. I have mourned at various times in my life for various reasons. I have mourned because of a loss of health that was diagnosed as a chronic illness. I have mourned because of different stressful and traumatic situations. I have mourned a loss of innocence, after living through some awful experiences. I have mourned the loss of a dream. I have mourned the death of a loved one and continue to mourn those losses. I mourn the loss of our Bug. We are asked to be “willing to mourn with those who mourn” (Mosiah 18:9); to be willing to mourn with them, to sit with them in their anguish, despair, and sadness. It isn’t the easiest or most comfortable thing. It isn’t something that everyone is good at, but something we all are working on.
Christ shows us how to mourn with those who mourn in the example of Lazarus. We know that “Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus (John 11:5). Martha and Mary at different times are upset, knowing the healing power Christ has shown them, they lament he wasn’t there when Lazarus passed away. “Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died” (John 11:21). We then see Christ’s empathy and compassion when he weeps. He doesn’t rebuke them, tell them to be merry, to look on the bright side or even that he is in a better place. Christ weeps. He who will break the bands of death, weeps for his friend, the one he loves.
During our stay at the hospital, I learned about offering support during a time of crisis, mourning the possible loss of our Bug, mourning the circumstance he was in and the life we realized he would have with his physical issues. He hadn’t even been around 2 weeks when he crashed, his lungs were small and a constant problem (they’d be his little body’s downfall). When it happened, we sat outside his room or paced in a private room while they tried to figure out how and if they could support his body. Dr. Fuerch was on the floor and would come out to update us on the progress they were making, or not making. We were given a chance to go in quickly and Peter gave him a blessing. I have rarely seen Peter cry, but he sobbed, and my heart broke in a different way seeing Peter struggle and feeling responsible because my body had housed Archer’s body. Dr. Fuerch said she had a few more tricks up her sleeve, tried one of them and they halted his crash. One other Aquadex momma, Maria, saw us out in the hallway while this was happening, and gave me a hug. She’ll never know how much that small expression of love and support meant at that moment. We were all away from our families, fighting with our babes to survive the difficulties this life had brought them through no fault of their own. She offered me support and mourned the difficulties we were experiencing.
I was later able to offer a hug to another NICU momma. We would greet each other in the hospital hallways and check in. I saw her crying outside the NICU and walked past, so that we could ring the bell to go see Archer. I turned around and held her while she cried. I asked afterwards if she needed anything, and she said, “You already did.” I mirrored the care Maria had shown for me, we understood each other’s pain, what it was like to be on the roller coaster called the NICU. We needed each other and supported each other in ways nobody else could. We mourned with those who mourned and offered each other love and empathy.
When Archer’s body reached its limit, we called a meeting. Dr. Fuerch and Dr. Bonifacio, our 2 primary doctors and friends, met us in a room to discuss our wishes. We let them know we felt it was time to let him go. They helped to plan how things would happen, give everyone a chance to say good-bye and prepare his little body to not feel anymore pain. One of our primary nurses, Cindy, and another nurse, Brooke, made it possible for me to be able to sleep in bed with him that last night. Cindy had been with him since day one. They hung up the stocking and lights Lazara (Archie’s hospital grandma) had bought him and made it possible for us to be close to him all evening. Diane and Kihn were his break nurses, nurses he loved and had consistently cared for him throughout his 8 months. Noella was the nurse in the morning he passed, they had a special bond. She could get away with anything because he adored her. Mini, another of his special nurse friends, had gone to buy him a blanket and some food for us, she joined us even though it wasn’t her shift, because she loved her, “King Archer.” Archer is buried in the blanket she bought him. The NICU had a viewing, of sorts to say good-bye to him and offer us condolences. Dr. Bonifacio and Dr. Fuerch were there too, helping us along the way, just like they had the entire time we were there. We all mourned the loss of our Archie together. We held him, loved on him some more and said good-bye in this life. They supported us through his life and were with us in his death. We know we wouldn’t have made it through it without their support.
When we came home, we were offered hugs, love and support. We were grateful some of our family were able to meet him in this life, the rest will get to know how amazing he is in the next. We had friends organize a fundraiser to help pay for the expenses of laying him to rest. We were humbled by the outpouring of love by many we haven’t seen in years, and greatly appreciated the financial assistance. The support of having friends and family at a funeral that couldn’t have been easy to go to was worth so much. It was a manifestation of mourning with those who mourn, offering support and love. It helped ease our burden, seeing so many people we had to isolate from while I was pregnant, and we were at the hospital.
Since then, we have had people check in on us, take us to eat and visit, send gifts and cards. We aren’t always in the right head space to go, but we appreciate being thought of. I have my walking buddies; they are great to let me talk and cry while we walk. Our mourning hasn’t ended, it won’t in this life. It is a burden we will always carry, a load we are slowly becoming accustomed to. It doesn’t make the load less, you become familiar with the weight it offers. Each of us knows the weight that is carried from the loss of a son, a daughter, a husband, a wife, a mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, or friend; they all hurt and add to the burden we carry. The burdens are made lighter with the love offered as others are willing to mourn with us. It is one way we can emulate the Savior by helping those who are heavy laden, to know they aren’t alone and help them shoulder the burden, if even for just a brief time.
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