Please note, this post is about going through a miscarriage, both mentally and physically.
I've always adored the idea of having a true birthday cake after the birth of a baby. The idea of loved ones baking and frosting a cake while mom labors is just warming to the very core of my soul. Birth is, afterall, something to be celebrated.
Should we celebrate loss?
Yesterday, as we went to the general store in the town 10 minutes from us to get some half and half for my husbands coffee, I ran across canned pumpkin. It looked so good. I had some pie crust in the freezer, and we decided to bake a pumpkin pie for dessert.
Just as dinner was ready, nature had taken its course and I was still in the bathtub grieving and saying good-bye. I immediately felt much better, the cramps stopped almost instantly. I even went outside to play with the kids and the puppy. We came in, and I worked the crust for the pie. My husband already had the filling made and ready to pour in. The house began to fill with the smell of pumpkin pie.
After the kids were asleep in their beds, we each had a piece. It was not exactly like a "birthday" cake, or a celebration. But it felt like celebrating the short life of the little one gone to be with Papa. I think the pumpkin pie felt so right because this little one would have been born within a week of Thanksgiving. Even if that was not a conscious thought at the time.
This morning, when the kids were up and hungry we had pumpkin pie for breakfast. Is it specifically because of the loss that we ate pie for breakfast today? Perhaps. It is comforting in a way I can't perfectly articulate. This tiny life touched us so deeply. To celebrate that life, and how we are growing as a family through this is..... worthy of something out of the ordinary. Like eating a fall dessert, for breakfast, in the first bloom of Spring.