A woman who is holding a teddy bear sits in a wheelchair in front of the hospital waiting for her ride home. About 10 feet away from her sits another woman in a wheelchair, also waiting for a ride home, but this one is holding a newborn baby.
In our hospital, women who lose a child—either through stillbirth or infant death—are given a teddy bear. The bear is not in any way intended to take the place of the baby, but rather is something to hold, something to serve as a small comfort in a time of great pain. It is also a reminder that their loss is real.
The woman with the bear glances at the woman with the baby, and I see tears form in her tired-looking eyes. I step over to her and say, “My name’s Jim. I’m a hospital chaplain. May I wait with you?” She nods.
I kneel beside her and take her hand while, with her other hand, she still clutches her bear tightly. We weep together in silence for about five minutes until her husband appears with their car, in which I see a very new and very empty baby seat.
As I help her to the car, the woman squeezes my hand and says, “Thank you.” I turn to go back inside, and I notice the woman with the baby still waiting for her ride. But now she is crying, too. She says, “Did I hear you say you were a chaplain?” When I answer “yes,” she asks, “Would you say a blessing for my daughter?”
“Of course." I hold the woman’s hand and place my other hand on the sleeping baby’s beautifully round, soft, bald head.
“Spirit of life and love, we give thanks today for this child. May she be happy and healthy and a blessing to all who know her. We do not understand the great mystery from which each of us emerges and to which each of us returns. But we pray that, while we are here together, we might all be angels for each other, bringers of peace and grace and love. Bless this child, bless this family and bless all who know joy and all who know suffering. This we pray now and always. Amen.”
