"why the hell would you post a picture of your dead baby online? thats just horrible." I assume the person who wrote those words, in a recent comment, has never experienced child loss. Maybe she/he has never even grieved over the death of someone close, and viewed the dead body of a loved one. If so, I can understand the horror contained in that comment. 


There was a time when I had never lost anyone close to me either. I had never seen a dead body. And then I discovered I was pregnant with Thomas who was most probably going to die soon after birth. The thought of seeing and holding my own child’s lifeless body really frightened me. Could I hold a dead baby in my arms? What would he look like? How would he feel? Would I be too frightened to pick him up?

I am reposting this story in honour of Thomas. He was precious. He was beautiful… even after his death.


The Viewing

I am the type of person who hates to look at dead pets. If I see a goldfish floating upside down, I immediately avert my gaze and yell. “Callum! The fish is dead. Quick! Scoop it out and bury it.” I don’t know what I am going to do when the guinea pigs decide they’ve had enough of life. I hope it is not me who discovers their lifeless forms on the floor of their cage. So you see, it was a real concern of mine when I had to face the fact that I might have to hold, not an expired pet, but the body of our dead son.

At the time of my pregnancy with Thomas, I had never seen a dead body. Could I hold a dead baby in my arms? What would he look like? How would he feel? Would I be too frightened to pick him up? These were all concerns which caused me immense suffering in the months preceding Thomas’ birth.

During Thomas’ last minutes of life, he was disconnected from all equipment except the ventilator, and given to us to hold. We were all there: Andy and me and our five children. We took turns cradling our baby in our arms as his life slipped away. This was the first time Thomas would have felt the touch of his family, and this touch was his last sensation as he left this world. We weren’t aware of the exact moment of Thomas’ death until the doctor pointed out that, although the ventilator was still mechanically pumping away, the heart monitor no longer showed a beat. Thomas had gone.

Once disconnected from all the medical equipment, Thomas was taken away by one of the nurses. We were invited to sit in the private lounge area where we were to await the return of our son. It was strange. I didn’t even consider not holding him. Even though Thomas was dead, I wanted to see him. We hadn’t been allowed to touch him all those hours he was in the neonatal intensive care unit. He hadn’t really seemed like our child but more like the hospital’s as the doctors constantly worked by his side. Now we would be able to see him properly for the first time.

When Thomas returned, he was dressed in a nightie, nappy, booties and bonnet and was wrapped in a handmade quilt. Again, we took turns holding him.

I thought he looked like Charlotte but now that his nose is clear of the tube, he is more like Imogen. Look at his profile.”

What colour hair do you think he would have had? It looks reddish.”

His hands look so sad with the marks from the needles.”

The nurse told us that we could spend as long as we liked with Thomas. “Just place him in that cradle when you want to leave or ring for a nurse.”

I know he is dead but I can’t just put him in a cradle and leave him by himself. Can I call you?”

With our baby no longer alive, we felt the need to return home as soon as possible. I no longer felt I had a legitimate excuse to occupy a hospital bed and we knew our other children needed us at home. As we said our goodbyes to Thomas, the nurse invited us to return to see him again the next day if we wished. But we didn’t return. The hospital was far from home and we got tied up organising the funeral, looking after the children, coping with our own needs.

Several days before we buried Thomas, we arranged to see him at a ‘viewing’. A couple of our friends asked if they could come along too and they arrived with their young children in tow.

I was eagerly anticipating seeing Thomas again. Never having gone to a viewing before, I didn’t really know what to expect. If I’d thought about it logically, I would have worked out that Thomas would be in his coffin. However, the sight of his little body lying in the white casket shocked me. “He doesn’t look like Thomas.” I retreated, overcome with tears. The funeral director then asked if I wanted him to take Thomas out of the coffin so that I could hold him. Soon I had his little body tucked under my arms. It was difficult to keep hold of him. His legs kept slipping from my grasp like a rag doll’s. He was dressed in the exquisite baptismal gown I’d chosen for him and although he looked beautiful and peaceful, he didn’t look like he had in hospital. Thomas was passed around to those who wanted to hold him. Then we took some family photographs, very aware that this was our last opportunity to capture pictures of our complete family:  parents and six children.

Although we saw Thomas on two occasions after his death, I still have some regrets. I realised later, that we’d never seen either his ears or his feet. We’d held him all bundled up and not really examined him like we would have done had he been alive. The doctors and nurses of the NICU were fantastic and, as I knew they were always looking for ways to improve their help to bereaved parents, I wrote to them with some suggestions.

Perhaps newly bereaved parents could dress their own babies after death? Perhaps the parents could even bathe their children? It would have been so lovely to have seen Thomas’ hair in its true colour.

I don’t think my fear of seeing and touching a dead person is an isolated fear. I think other people have these concerns too. A friend once confided the story of going to see her father before his burial.

I was so afraid of seeing him. Then I realised that the body in the funeral home wasn’t my dad. He was gone. The body was just a shell.  Nothing to be afraid of.”

I listened quietly but I couldn’t agree. Thomas’ body was him. Yes, his soul had departed but his body was still a very special part of him. And because his little dead body was still Thomas, there was nothing to be frightened of. How can you be frightened of your own baby son?

One of the families, who came with us to see Thomas, had older children who weren’t present at the viewing. When the family returned home, these children asked their younger siblings, ”What did Thomas look like?”

The answer: “Well… like a baby… of course!”

This story can be found in my book, Grief, Love and Hope.



So I admit I had been frightened at the thought of seeing my dead son. And I had been shocked by the sight of my child in a coffin. Maybe I can understand that recent comment. What I find hard to accept though, is the way it was written. We can all express our opinions with politeness whether we agree or not.

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  1. Thomas was more than beautiful, Sue. I've always regretted that I didn't get to see him - especially being his godmother. The photos are something that I never tire of looking at.

    Thank you for re-posting this.

    God bless, Sue:-)

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    1. Vicky,

      I would have liked to have shared Thomas in person with you. Recently, I saw a friend's video of her son's 30 hours of life. Her whole extended family were gathered at the hospital to be with her and see the newest member of the family. Looking back, I regret we didn't all gather together. I suppose I hoped we'd have more time and when the crisis was over, everyone would visit. Then the viewing... I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. I just wanted to see Thomas again, and I arranged things to suit ourselves. That seemed most important at the time.

      Thomas' photos aren't really very good. They are all blurry and I could wish we had better ones to share. However I am just grateful I have some photos as I know some parents are left with absolutely nothing.

      Thank you for wanting to share Thomas.

      God bless.

      Delete
  2. Sue. recently I went to the funeral for a 10 year old boy from our town. It was one of the hardest things I have every witnessed. I didn't know the family but went along to help our parish priest. It made me think about how would I feel if one of our children died? I don't think anyone could really imagine how they would react or how they would get through.

    I lost a sister when I was just 11 months old. I was really young but I always knew about Helen. I think my parents talked about her a lot and that was important. Viewing, talking and remembering is all part of the healing process I think.

    Thank you for sharing your Thomas with us.

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    1. Therese,

      It is so difficult witnessing other people's grief and knowing there is nothing we can really do to ease their pain. I went to a funeral of a newborn and the pain was so very deep. All I could think was... it was never meant to be this way. Why do parents have to suffer so much? How will they survive? But we do survive with God's help. Like you, I also wonder what I'd do if another one of my children were to die. I can only conclude that God would carry us through the nightmare because He did once before. There is no doubt that losing a child is a suffering like nothing else, and all parents need support and prayers. I imagine your presence at the funeral helped enormously. We had so many people at Thomas' funeral and I kept thinking, "Everyone thinks he is important. They have made the effort to come today and be with us despite the pain and difficulty of attending a funeral." Some things are hard to do but we need to do them because they make a difference.

      It sounds like Helen remained an integral part of your family. Do you sometimes wish you could have known her? Do you wonder what life would be like if she hadn't died? I sometimes wonder about my own children and Thomas. They regard him as an important part of the family, but most of them have no memory of him. They know the stories though.

      My grandmother had a daughter who died as a baby. She never mentioned her lost child, and my mother grew up not realising she had another sister. Then one day when my grandmother was visiting me, shortly after Thomas died, she suddenly told us about her baby. She'd kept that secret locked inside her for more than 50 years. How hard that must have been. "Viewing, talking and remembering is all part of the healing process I think." I agree. Pain doesn't heal when it is buried away.

      Therese, I am so grateful for your comment. Thank you so much for sharing Thomas.

      God bless.

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    2. Sue,

      I do wonder all the time how different life would have been if Helen had lived and if I had known here. I am sure all my other siblings do too.

      I cannot even imagine the pain your grandmother must have gone through with the loss of her daughter. What a heartache she must have suffered.

      Delete
    3. Therese,

      Maybe Helen's intercession for you and your family is making life very different from that you would have had if she'd lived and shared it with you. That's a long sentence! I hope you understand what I'm trying to say. We don't know the graces we are receiving from heaven because of the family members who are already there. I am sure Thomas is working hard to ensure we join him one day.

      My grandmother must have suffered enormously. It was a time when women were encouraged to keep their sorrows very much to themselves, and soldier on. We are so much more fortunate these days. Yes, some people would still rather we didn't talk about death and our losses, but generally it is considered helpful and healing to be allowed to tell our stories, instead of pretending our losses never happened.

      Thank you for sharing with me, Therese.

      God bless!

      Delete
  3. Sue, there is so much in my heart that it all wants to tumble out at once. I was offline right while you posted just before this. I had no Internet connection.. it went in and out, then left altogether. Hopefully it is repaired. That got my Lent off to a different start from what I'd intended also. I thought Victor's comment on your last post was wonderful, and made a good point.

    First, if you ever do make your blog private, would you please e-mail me and be sure I know how to get to it? Thanks! But frankly, I wonder how many people .. unknown people out there who don't comment because they may not even know how to do so (I have friends who regularly read my blogs and don't know how to comment) are being HELPED by what you write. I suspect many. Again, for what "what I think" might be worth, I felt a resonance with Victor's thoughts.

    You and I know that grief is an unbearably painful, all pervasive, breath-sucking thing. We know because we both have been there... yes, I have too. Different circumstances, but I've been there. I would have been helped to find you years ago, when mine hit (with no warning). I would have been helped, perhaps, by writing of it... but as it was, I figured then that I would never write another word as long as I lived.

    As you can tell by my lengthy comments here, that turned out not to be the case :)!!!

    May God BLESS you, Sue. And thank you for giving hope to others. I have a feeling that people who are hurting from loss might just see your wonderful sense of humor and your joy in life and think "if she could recover, I just might, too."

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    1. Nancy,

      I am beginning to realise my Lenten plans aren't important at all. God wants something different. Despite my determination to have a blogging break, I just felt compelled to respond to that recent comment.

      Yes, Victor's words about trust have given me much to think about. The problem is, even though I try to do what God wants, I wonder how much difference my little blog actually makes. It feels rather presumptuous to think the devil cares one way or another about it. But then again, I have received some lovely comments from readers who have taken the time to tell me they'd miss my blog. I think that is a reflection on all the beautiful people who stop by here, and who have befriended me. I want to thank you for adding your words of encouragement too.

      I am so sorry to hear you know the deep pain of grief too. Different circumstances... I don't think it matters as far as understanding goes. Grief arrives in many forms but the underlying pain is exactly the same. We understand each other. Now I know why we connect so well!

      I think I would have been helped by stories shared on a blog too, but 13 years ago, there was no such thing, or maybe there was but I was too far behind with modern technology. (I know nothing about the history of blogging.) Anyway, it wouldn't have been so accessible as it is today. 13 years ago I couldn't even find another person suffering in similar circumstances to share with. I felt very isolated. That was one of the reasons I started writing. I wanted to connect with anyone feeling alone and crazy, and offer some encouragement that survival is possible.

      "I figured then that I would never write another word as long as I lived." Nancy, I am sure God laughs at our thoughts! He so often has different plans for us than those we imagine. Just as well! So you are writing many words, maybe not on grief, but you are writing to draw people closer to God. Isn't that an awesome thought?

      Nancy, I do experience great joy, even though once I thought my life would never be anything but pain ever again. Do you remember a couple of posts back when we were talking about laughter and Bob Blogosphere? I said I'd have to get back to 'doing serious' rather than 'doing funny'. Well, things certainly hit serious suddenly. I didn't plan to write these posts. It's strange where God leads.

      Nancy, I feel so grateful I have you for a friend, and that you have taken so much time to write such helpful and kind words. Thank you!

      May God bless you.

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  4. Thank you for opening your life to us readers. It is healing. I have been told that long ago, people spoke more of death and it was less shocking. In our world, a world that tends to love only beautiful and perfect things, death isn't spoken of and it rattles people. Death is a part of life, unfortunately. I wish is wasn't, but it is. Your Thomas is so precious and so special. May God bless you Sue. I thank you for your courage. Please keep blogging. This world needs more people like you. Thank you for being such a powerful witness.

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    1. Tina Marie,

      It is so lovely to see you on my blog! Thank you for stopping by with such kind words of encouragement. I really appreciate your comment, Tina.

      I read your comment earlier today but haven't had a free moment to respond until now. But I have been thinking about your words. "death isn't spoken of and it rattles people." Death was never mentioned when I was growing up. Maybe this contributed to my fear when Thomas' birth and death were approaching. I didn't know what to expect. I'd never been to a funeral before Thomas'. It was sad that I learnt all about death and funerals through my own son.

      In contrast my own children have been to quite a few funerals. We are always praying for the sick, and then if they die, we pray for their souls. We talk about life and death. Yes, death is part of life.

      I remember all the families that came to Thomas' funeral. The church was packed with children. It gave me hope to see such beauty during such a sorrowful occasion. I remember all the beautiful little girls running between the graves collecting posies of flowers. Life in the middle of death. And I am grateful their parents didn't feel they had to shelter their children from the death of our son. Death shouldn't be regarded as something to be hidden. It's not horrific even though it certainly is painful.

      Tina, your words have touched me deeply. Thank you. I will have to stop here or I will need the tissue box!

      God bless!

      Delete
  5. You just keep right on posting those pictures of Thomas. I will never tire of looking at you and your beautiful baby boy. St. Thomas, pray for us.

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    1. Pam,

      I haven't spoken to you for ages. I've missed you! And your words have made me feel so good. Thank you! I wish I had more photos of Thomas to post and share. But the same few blurry ones will have to do!

      I hope all is well with you and your beautiful family.

      God bless!

      Delete
  6. This is a topic that is great to think about. Especially for Lent. I was there when my Grandmother died when I was about four. We all kissed her goodbye. It was sad but beautiful. Much later at another grandparents deathbed I was surprised that some baulked at the idea.
    Thanks for the glimpse of a different sort of experience. Burying a child sounds more heartbreak ing. Out of order or something like that.

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    1. Veronica,

      It sounds like you have special memories of seeing your grandmother for the last time. Children are so uncomplicated. Maybe we grow into our fears and worries as we become adults... unless of course we have good experiences as a child, as you did.

      You are quite right: burying a child feels very much out of order. A child dying before a parent... it's not meant to happen that way at all. I guess when we bury a child we also bury all those dreams we had. They will never come to fruition. It's hard to let go of all that.

      Veronica, thank you so much for stopping by and sharing your story. I appreciate it.

      God bless!

      Delete
  7. I'm glad you posted this again too. It is so touching and it is a story of pain, grief, hope. I love that one day we will all see little Thomas in heaven.

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    1. Elisa,

      "I love that one day we will all see little Thomas in heaven." Isn't that a wonderful thought? We will no longer be separated by distance or time. We will all be together. Everyone that is reading about Thomas today will actually meet him. He's not just a story but a person waiting in heaven for us. I like that! Thank you for sharing that thought, Elisa. That has made me smile.

      God bless!

      Delete
  8. I know what you mean about the fear of death and seeing someone who has died. My dad died in November and he was the closest person to me that has ever died. When I heard he was dying, I scheduled my flight home but he died before I made it. I could have seen his body before the funeral but I chose not to becUse he had been so sick with cancer. I wanted to remember him more well. He was cremated so the last time I saw him was April. When I felt sad, I kept thinking about him in that little tiny cremation box. However, his soul is in heaven with God. That is what we should concentrate on.Your Thomas is also in heaven playing with Jesus :)

    Gina

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    1. Gina,

      I was very sorry to hear about your father's death. I don't often respond to the comments on the UC list but I do read and pray. I have been praying for you and your dad every day since I heard your sad news.

      I can understand wanting to remember someone as they were when they were healthy. I guess that's the image you want to fill your mind when you think of your dad. It would have been so hard seeing your father suffering.

      Whether people are buried or cremated, their bodies do not remain the same. I remember Gemma-Rose's face when we explained what had happened to Thomas' body. Her eyes opened wide as she tried to absorb an ecology lesson that applied to her own brother. I just prefer to think of Thomas as he was, not as he physically is these days. One day everyone's bodies will be resurrected and they will be so glorious and beautiful. I think bodies are so important and are an integral part of us, and we know they will be returned to us by God eventually. But for now, it doesn't really matter. As you said, your father's soul and Thomas' soul are in heaven. They know each other! One day the pain will be over and we will be there too.

      "Your Thomas is also in heaven playing with Jesus :)" Thank you for these beautiful words!

      God bless you!

      Delete
    2. Sue, that is so sweet that you have been praying for me and my dad. Thank you!

      Gina

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    3. Gina,

      You are welcome! It's good to pray for friends.

      God bless!

      Delete
  9. Sue,
    I'm glad you posted Thomas' story again - I think it was both a healing thing for you to do after the comment you received and I also think it helps the readers of your blog understand the grieving process better. I can't help but think that there is a greater purpose to all this than we can see and that your posts are helping more people than you realize. The comments on both posts have been very interesting. Tina Marie makes a very good point in her comment - people spoke about death more openly in the past and by this openness were probably able to help one another more. Denial of death helps no one - each and every one of us loses loved ones and we all must walk through this door ourselves at some point.

    On a side note, after reading your last post I was wondering what the person who left the comment would think if he or she knew that Catholics actually have the bodies of our dead incorruptible saints on display all over Europe and that we pass pictures of them out :) I won't even mention the "relics" we have.

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    1. Mary,

      That one rude comment has sparked off a very interesting conversation. Yes, I think we do need to talk about such things as death. It helps to share when we are grieving, and compassion and understanding result from sharing each other's experiences.

      "people spoke about death more openly in the past and by this openness were probably able to help one another more." Maybe people spoke of death more openly because it was more common, and a real part of everyday life. These days with medical advances we expect to live better lives, and if we get sick we expect to be cured. Maybe we find it more difficult to accept death... surely something can be done? It's our right to continue living, or so we think.

      Mary, the incorruptibles! I hadn't thought about them. Yes! We venerate them and all relics. They are not horrible at all. There are photos of 'dead bodies' all over the Internet. People actually go looking for them because they are so very special. Thank you for reminding me about them. I guess the commenter wouldn't like the idea of bones and blood and other relics! So many treasures within the Church but so misunderstood.

      Thank you so much for this comment, Mary.

      God bless!

      Delete
  10. I am glad you posted this so I could see it and read it. I would think that this would help others who have lost a child. I had a little sister who died of sudden infant death syndrome. Age 6 weeks. I was only 2 so I do not remember her. I think your article would help others. And probably helps you too in sharing it.
    As for the pictures, I think they are beautiful. I will pray for that person who made that remark. She/he must be hurting in some way to be so unkind.
    I like Mary's comment about our saints. :)

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  11. One more thing I forgot to say. I think we Catholics tend to look at death differently than some. We mourn and hurt like everyone else, for sure. But we also know we are still connected in some way to those who are gone. Communion of saints!
    God bless!

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    1. Colleen,

      I am sorry to hear you never got to know your little sister. I can imagine your mother's grief. Did your mother talk about your sister as you were growing up? Imagine that glorious moment when you get to meet your sister again! Yes, we are so blessed to have our faith, and know that death isn't the end but only the beginning. The Communion of Saints... we are all connected if we stop and think about it. I often think of Thomas at Mass. I've heard that that's the time when we are the closest together, all gathered around God in worship. Those who have no faith must find death so much more difficult. I know I grieved so deeply. I would have surely despaired without God.

      You are right: It did help me to repost this story and some photos. I wanted to say, "Thomas you are precious and beautiful despite the opinion of that commenter." I also wanted to admit my own fears and shock which turned out to be groundless.

      Thank you for your comments.

      God bless!


      Delete
  12. Hi Sue,

    My best friend's first child was still born. I remember sitting with her in the hospital as she held this beautiful but dead son. We looked at his little nose and chin and saw how he looked like both her and his father. She was so much a mother and he was so much her son. I totally agree that the body is still part of that precious soul's eternal identity. I am sorry that this person did not understand and spoke to you like that. Your sharing of your son has allowed us to be part of his "cloud of witnesses" even on the other side of the world!

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    1. Willa,

      After Thomas died and we'd had time together as a family, a close friend came to the hospital to collect our other children. She was going to look after them while Andy and I saw to a few things. The friend walked in just as I was saying goodbye and handing Thomas to one of the nurses. She asked if she could hold him and later she wrote to tell me how privileged she felt because she had the opportunity to see and hold our son. This meant so much to me. The friend didn't step back in horror at the sight of death. She embraced it. And so I thinking what a gift you gave to your best friend. You shared someone so very important to her. You share common memories. Your friend can revisit those memories with you because you were there and understand.

      Willa, the comment wasn't nice at all, but I think a lot of good has come out of it. I am glad I didn't just delete it and move on. I am also glad I can share with you and everyone else via the Internet. It is such a powerful tool for connecting us together to share our experiences, encouragement and love.

      Thank you so much for your comment. It was kind of you to stop by.

      God bless!

      Delete
  13. I read this blog entry this morning, and I've been thinking it over. I am angry that anyone would be so nasty and insensitive to say something so ugly to you. Shame on that person!!

    Sue, I think that your blog is a blessing to a lot of people. I had to sort of laugh, that you wanted to give up your blogs for lent. :) Clearly, your son Thomas had different ideas for his lent!! This is sort of his blog as much as it is yours. I think Thomas was saying, "No Mum, I don't want to be quiet for 40 days!" LOL!! No reason for Thomas to be quiet.. why should he when so many of us have been touched by his short life here on earth... he is still reaching out, world wide, and God bless him and you my goodness I am halfway round the world from you and I have been very deeply touched and blessed beyond measure by you, Thomas, and your friendship.

    God bless you dear friend!!

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    1. Susan,

      Oh I do like your thoughts on my blogging break and Thomas! I wouldn't like to say that my blog makes a difference, but maybe Thomas is helping others because I am sharing his story. I hope so. It really gives his short life great value. Who would have thought a baby one day old would have so many stories to tell? God's plans really are remarkable.

      Well, Thomas has started Lent off differently to what I imagined. I often wonder if people are getting fed up with hearing about him. I have 94 grief stories on this blog alone, and a few more elsewhere. That's a lot of grief! I try not to post this type of story too often. This time though it just happened, and I didn't feel I had a choice. Actually I can't believe so many people have responded with such support to my recent posts. Aren't readers so very kind? And you especially. You are always so loving towards me and Thomas. Thank you.

      God bless you!

      Delete
  14. Thomas IS beautiful, just as beautiful as the rest of your children and I thank you for sharing with us your wonderful photos - mementos of the very brief time you had with him.

    “People are unrealistic, illogical, and self-centered. Love them anyway.”
    ― Mother Teresa

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    1. Kelly,

      Thank you so much for your very kind words! Some words can hurt so much and others can bring real joy.

      Thank you also for sharing the quote from Mother Teresa. Somehow I don't think I need worry at all about that comment. I am so blessed. Yes, we can certainly forgive others and love them anyway. I guess that's exactly what they need.

      Thank you for reading my post.

      God bless!

      Delete
  15. Oh Sue, Thank you for sharing this post! The world needs your precious Thomas stories! Please keep sharing them.

    I do think people are far removed from death these days...more than God ever intended. It wasn't too long ago that caring and dressing the bodies of the departed were left up to the family and viewings were held in parlors not in funeral homes. Death was a part of life back then (and happened much more often) and I think people had more faith back then as well. Just something I'm pondering.

    I pray that commenter's heart can be healed from it's meanness. St. Thomas, Pray for us!!

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    1. Elizabeth,

      I am amazed at how I can still think of things to write about Thomas. I have a few ideas at the moment. There doesn't seem to be a limit to what I can learn from Thomas' birth and death. I am so glad you don't mind sharing these stories.

      I've also been pondering how people's faith and perception of death has changed over the years. Recently a friend told me how she and her husband brought their baby home before she was buried, and no one understood why they would do such a thing. Looking back, I would also have liked to have brought Thomas home, and to have had the opportunity to spend time with him privately within our family. I guess in days gone by the bodies of loved ones were placed in the parlour and friends and family visited to pay their respects. Maybe everyone kept a prayer vigil and lit candles. It seems a good thing to do. Now all the difficult aspects of death have been taken over by the funeral home, as you said. But sometimes we need to do the difficult things ourselves.

      I didn't dress Thomas for his funeral as that was the funeral home's role. I would have liked to have done that. Anyway, I had bought a beautiful baptismal gown for Thomas and I was worried it would be too big. I explained my fears to the funeral director and she was absolutely wonderful. She told me if it was too big, she would alter the dress for me. She would ensure it fitted. I was very grateful for that.

      I think prayer and not condemnation is more valuable as far as the commenter goes. Thank you!

      God bless!

      Delete
  16. Oh, sweet baby! You've got a little family saint! God Bless you and your family.

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    1. Thank you for reading my story, Monica! I love sharing Thomas with my friends. May God bless you too!

      Delete

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