Write a love letter or eulogy

All the books say it. Write a letter to the baby, whether it's a private letter or one you read openly.

We composed this as a eulogy for Grace, to be read at our memorial service for her.

It was read by another couple, dear friends who do not yet have kids. We were not prepared to be the ones to read this out loud. And we couldn't imagine that any of our friends with kids could get through it yet.

Sometimes now it seems too optimistic, too sweet, too empowered. But at the time, it seemed just right. It speaks to a hope that wanes more often now, but that was very strong right then. And it reminds us that there were some truly joyous moments in meeting her - before we had a chance to miss her so constantly.


An open letter to our friends and family, and to Baby Grace
From K & A

While this is a sad time for us, it is great comfort that you, our friends and family, are sharing this loss so profoundly with us.

But this Mass is also a celebration. And today, we want to share with you the wonder that was Grace.

Because from the first moment of sheer surprise and delight at discovering that we were pregnant, you, Grace, were exactly that -- a wonder!

We expected our second pregnancy to be so much like the first; but you managed to surprise us at every turn: the drama of morning sickness in the first three months; the baby’s high-energy activity -- somersaults, kicks and jabs; your clear love of sweets (which your mother indulged quite happily!) And of course, Grace, you joined all of us to root for the Red Sox together, even if we couldn’t quite stay up all night for the games.

And when, Grace, you arrived early Sunday morning, even in our grief, you managed to delight and surprise. You were a girl when we were sure we were having a boy. You were 6 pounds 2 ounces; we – and the doctors -- thought you would be so much larger. You had a shock of dark hair, while we were both expecting the blond curls we had as babies.

We can only imagine how this delight and surprise would have marked the rest of your life with us and your big sister N. But Baby Grace, you could not come home with us.

We are sad, Grace; already we miss the life that will not be. We miss your cries and already miss your first smile; your first laugh and your first crawl.

We miss you being N’s “baby”. She talked so much about how she would change your diapers, feed you, wash your face, and hug and kiss you. (And of course, Grace, we would have shielded you from an eager two-year-old’s over-attention!) We will miss reading stories to you and your sister, and most of all, watching you both grow up together.

Grace, we trust that we will someday learn something from this experience, and for that we are grateful for your brief life. We hope to find the moments where your delight and surprise carries on.

It has already started with so many little kindnesses – gestures from friends, our families, priests and chaplains, nurses and midwives, even from people we’ve never met.

Grace could not come home with us last Sunday. But we are reassured that she is in a special place, among the spirits of family and friends who have gone before her: namesakes Grace B, Grace S, Catherine M. Her Grandpa D, her Aunt Janine. Her great-grandpa M, her great-grandparents Rose and William, Una J -- and many others.

Baby Grace is with us in Spirit, in the angels of babies and in the saints, in prayers, anytime any of us remember her -- and wherever we stumble upon a little surprise and delight.

So to our friends and family, we invite you to look for signs of Grace all around you as well.

And Grace Catherine, we will always remember you.

- K and A