Originally posted on Global News:
VANCOUVER — Caitie Grange gave birth to her daughter Elizabeth Blake Shannon on April 22, 2015 at BC Women’s Hospital. Otherwise a healthy baby, little Elizabeth died in utero due to a knot in her cord.
“For some reason, when it’s a small baby, people just feel like ‘oh you’ll have another one and that will fill the hole.’ I’ve even had comments like that with the stillbirth, it was bad enough when it was miscarriages, but I’ve had people say to me when they’ve found out I’ve lost a baby, ‘well, another baby will come along,'” she said.
Grange said that due to some complications, she was followed closely during her pregnancy by doctors at the hospital but there was no reason to believe anything was seriously wrong.
“Four days after my last ultrasound at Women’s, I woke up to go to work and I felt her moving, like in the morning,”…
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We met her and there were not enough hours to cherish her. Moments fleeting. When you’re not even thinking rationally. Thankful that one of my nurses took a few photos of little Miss the first few hours into the world.
So, here, in all her glory is Miss Lea, 10 oz, 10 inches. Her profile is strikingly similar to her older brother.
Originally posted on john pavlovitz:
We’ve all received it personally gift-wrapped by well-meaning friends, caring loved ones, and kind strangers. It usually comes delivered with the most beautiful of intentions; a buffer of hope raised in the face of the unimaginably painful things we sometimes experience in this life.
It’s a close, desperate lifeline thrown out to us when all other words fail:
Everything happens for a reason.
I’ve never had a tremendous amount of peace with the sentiment. I think it gives the terrible stuff too much power, too much poetry; as if there must be nobility and purpose within the brutal devastation we may find ourselves sitting in. In our profound distress, this idea forces us to run down dark, twisted rabbit trails, looking for the specific part of The Greater Plan that this suffering all fits into.
It serves as an emotional distraction, one that cheats us out of the full measure of our real-time grief and outrage. We stutter and…
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