I am telling you, this experience just gets more and more surreal.
An hour ago I was sitting in a funeral home making arrangements for my baby's remains. How did I end up here?
We had to sign a release to the funeral home of our choice before we could be discharged from the hospital. We chose the funeral home at the top of the list; it took the least amount of effort. The social worker warned us that any funeral home we chose would make us come in to make the arrangements.
It was a funeral home. They're never the happiest places. But it's strange to find yourself walking into one anyway. The uncomfortable hush...
I was slightly shaken. I grabbed a conveniently located kleenex on my way down the hall, then stumbled and barely avoided plummeting down the stairs.
The woman we worked with was really very nice. Maybe a little bit clueless, but obviously well meaning. I think she's got a pretty good grasp on grief too. As uncomfortable as I expected the whole thing to be, it actually turned out to be less uncomfortable than wandering through Target shortly before our appointment.
So, the arrangements are made. Since there was no medical use we could donate our baby to, we will have him or her cremated. Which, or course, means we have the problem of an urn. In order to pick up the ashes in a couple of weeks, we need to have a sealed container. Quite honestly, tupperware would probably be just find until I can find a container that I feel is a suitable tribute to our baby, but I just wouldn't be able to convince myself to do that. So, I will be off to shop for an urn for my baby (though it won't be an "urn," that's a bit too morbid for me.) I suspect there will be an awful lot of tears involved.
An hour ago I was sitting in a funeral home making arrangements for my baby's remains. How did I end up here?
We had to sign a release to the funeral home of our choice before we could be discharged from the hospital. We chose the funeral home at the top of the list; it took the least amount of effort. The social worker warned us that any funeral home we chose would make us come in to make the arrangements.
It was a funeral home. They're never the happiest places. But it's strange to find yourself walking into one anyway. The uncomfortable hush...
I was slightly shaken. I grabbed a conveniently located kleenex on my way down the hall, then stumbled and barely avoided plummeting down the stairs.
The woman we worked with was really very nice. Maybe a little bit clueless, but obviously well meaning. I think she's got a pretty good grasp on grief too. As uncomfortable as I expected the whole thing to be, it actually turned out to be less uncomfortable than wandering through Target shortly before our appointment.
So, the arrangements are made. Since there was no medical use we could donate our baby to, we will have him or her cremated. Which, or course, means we have the problem of an urn. In order to pick up the ashes in a couple of weeks, we need to have a sealed container. Quite honestly, tupperware would probably be just find until I can find a container that I feel is a suitable tribute to our baby, but I just wouldn't be able to convince myself to do that. So, I will be off to shop for an urn for my baby (though it won't be an "urn," that's a bit too morbid for me.) I suspect there will be an awful lot of tears involved.
