Eva Catherine

Who was she?

She was our child, a child we only knew about for a few days before she went home to the Lord. A beautiful baby we prayed for almost 10 years. God gave her to us for a short while and she has left an indelible mark on our hearts. We wanted to share with all of you her brief life, and our broken hearts.

On Wednesday, May 25, 2022, we found out that we were pregnant after Estelle's 7th-grade end-of-school party. I texted Ryan “Can you stop and get me a pregnancy test. I haven’t started my period this month. It’s really late. I don’t feel pregnant. I think things are changing.” What I meant was, I’m getting old and no way I’m pregnant.

I am 42 years old. It’s been 10 years since our last loss. Many doctors later. So many tests. So many puzzle pieces, but never any answers. I was a mystery to these doctors. No one could tell me why I was struggling with infertility.

So I didn’t think that the pregnancy test would come back positive. But it did.

Actually, because there was so much disbelief, I took two tests. The old one must have been wrong it was outdated. I sent Ryan to the store to purchase another one. Both were positive.

I think I even questioned myself is it possible that I am really pregnant? Or are these tests playing tricks on me? I sat with my head in my hands and pondered how could this be? We had accepted our little family of 3. My infertility. My losses. I found comfort where I was.

I had no idea how far along I was. It was possible that I had forgotten to document a cycle in April. So that would make me earlier than my Flo chart was telling me.

Ryan's sister works at our OB's office, so we were able to go in the next morning for an ultrasound. I was scared. The last time I lay on a table waiting to see a baby was given the heartbreaking news “there is no heartbeat.” I didn’t have any pregnancy symptoms so I feared hearing these words again.

As she was scanning me it was obvious there was no baby in my uterus. I began to silently panic. As she measured my uterus she asked me again, how far are you. I wasn’t sure. 5 weeks if I had a period in April or 10 weeks according to my Flo app.

My uterus was growing and thicker than normal so there was evidence that it was preparing for a pregnancy, I was just really early. We left the doctor's office with lab orders to check my HCG pregnancy level and my progesterone as well as normal cbc, and a follow-up lab that we would recheck my number for two days later.

My blood work came back for an early pregnancy approximately 5-6 weeks along. After the shock wore off we were excited and hopeful, but really scared. Happy endings are not normal for our family. 2 died after birth and 2 in utero my chances of a healthy pregnancy were really low

We prayed for this baby to bring healing to our family, and we begged God for a miracle. We knew that this child’s life was a gift. It was a miracle I conceived, and we needed and wanted to give God glory for this tiny miracle, and so we went to Mass that afternoon. Mass was beautiful and holy and I tried to offer my fears to the Lord I cried during the consecration. Heaven and earth met and grace overcame me.

After Mass, we couldn’t keep this excitement from our dear friends. We prayed for this miracle for 10 years and our friends have been praying with us. We had to bring them into our inner prayer circle to join with us to petition for a healthy pregnancy and healthy baby. We called each of them to share the news over the phone. Each was excited and joyful, some even cried. Our friends knew the pain surrounding being open to life for our family and the heartbreak that always lingers in the back of our minds.

The joy didn't last long. Sorrow overcame our family and our joy of this miracle of life turned to fear. The fear was met with anger and resentment. I remember telling myself “It’s too good to be true.”

Things began to happen that indicated that our wanted pregnancy would probably end.

The next morning I went to the restroom and noticed that I was spotting. It wasn’t normal red blood but was brown. By that afternoon, there was one single drop of blood. My progesterone level was the culprit. The doctor's office told me total bed rest for the time being and begin taking the progesterone. I went to lay down. The fear of what was to come. The anger of why me. Each and every feeling enveloped me and wrapped me up in a blanket of sadness. I did not know what to do. I did not know what words to pray. All I could say is please Lord save this baby. Tears welled up inside of me.

My dear husband grabbed the holy water, crossed my forehead, my heart, my stomach, sprinkled holy water on me blessing me. And then He prayed over my body. I was trembling as the fear came over me-it was the fear that more suffering was to come. Lord, I know I can carry this heavy cross, I've carried it before, but I don't want to. I pleaded with the Lord to save this baby and turn it into a healthy pregnancy.

The thoughts that crossed my mind rapidly fired.

• Why does my body keep failing me?

• Why can’t I have a normal pregnancy?

• Lord why do you give, and why do you take away?

• Why do women who don’t want more children, get pregnant?

• I felt so little and I felt so weak.

The next morning Ryan drove me to the hospital to redraw my blood. They were quick to get my blood tests results in at the lab after they asked a few questions recognizing us from two days before. The nurses offered their prayers and we left.

About 2 hours later we got the results. We were in the middle of watching a movie. I paused it to read the numbers, my HCG dropped from 402 to 201. I knew before we left it needed to go up by 65%. Dropping only meant one thing.

It was evident that I was going to miscarry soon. I remember texting my friend group, my sister, and my sister-in-law, and then turning my phone off. Numbness overcame me. I actually put the movie back on to silence the pain that was screaming at me.

It lasted for only about 10 minutes when the reality of what was to come came over me. Ryan was silent. I remember pausing the movie again and yelling at him. “Why are you silent? You aren’t going to say anything? Do you even care?”

He looked at me with heartbreak, he managed to muster “I don’t know what to say.” I yelled again, “So you say nothing. Your silent. I thought we figured this out. I thought things were different.”

Saying those words out loud was like releasing everything that was building in me. I was like a tea pot put on the burner. The heat left me feeling like I was going to explode. Immediately I started to cry. Everything we knew. Everything we learned while grieving. Everything we worked on for years. All of that went out of the window the moment the wave of loss came again.

You can know what you know. You can say or think I’ll do this next time it happens. You can judge your friends, and strangers. But don’t underestimate the shock, pain, and heartbreak that new loss brings to your home. Once again the ravishing tsunami pain of child loss swept across our home. It tried to ravish everything in our path. We hung on for dear life as the waters of grief seeped into every ounce of our being

I walked towards my room. I wanted my bed. I got in because it’s the perfect place to cry. I put the covers over my head and sobbed. The kind of cry that doesn’t happen often, you usually try to hold that level of crying back anytime you are in public. It’s the only cry that is suitable and meant for this moment. Under the cold sheets, covers over your head.

Ryan followed me paralyzed by the weight of this new cross. He let me say all the things. He walked out for a minute, but then came back once he was able to think for a minute, and got under the covers with me, held me, and we cried. I don’t know how long we remained there, but I know that it was what was needed. My heart was broken into a million pieces once again. He held onto whatever he could hold.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh. I struggled to muster the words, Blessed be the name of the Lord. The heartbreak of child loss is overwhelming in those early moments. And nothing makes sense.

Over the course of the day, the brown turned to red spotting, and then blood. I started to hurt really bad. It was evident that I only had a small amount of time with our precious child.

By Sunday morning around 2:45 am the pain became excruciating. This was not a heavy period like some will say. It felt like the beginning of labor.

I could barely make it to the toilet to empty my bladder. There was so much blood and I could hardly see the bottom of the toilet. I managed to get myself cleaned up and made my way back to our bed. I felt like I was in the Agony of the Garden again. I was sweating from the pain, and lamenting over the bloodshed. I begged God to take this cup away from me. I felt the nails enter my womb. I cried out to God in lament. Why Lord? Why Lord? It hurts so much.

My crying got louder as I made my way back into our room. As I got closer, I woke Ryan up with my moans and groans. I didn’t know if I could get back into the bed. He was able to help me and ran to grab some Aleve for the pain. I took the medications and I tried to get myself into a comfortable position, but every twist and turn provided me no relief. I started sobbing out loud and it came from a place of despair. I was on the cross. I laid in a fetal position like a small child. My shoulders shook from my cries. I thought about my mom. I offered up a lament to her.

Ryan did everything he knew to do And held me close for a minute and then He got the holy water, prayed over me, held me closer, and I fell back asleep while we cried together.

On the feast of the Ascension of Our Lord, our little Eva Catherine went home to the Lord.

There are just no words to describe what that feels like.

I was still hurting pretty bad when I awoke just before Mass. I thought for a minute I could justify missing, I’m still in so much pain, and the blood was so much. But I knew that Mass was where I needed to be. I had to take more Aleve, and slowly and silently dressed.

I really did not want to go to church, but there was no way I could go on without Confession and the Eucharist.

I was mad at God, but it wasn’t rage as before. I wasn’t ready to talk to people. I wanted to grieve in private. People look at you weird when you cry, and ask a lot of questions that I just wasn't ready to talk about our loss just yet.

I wanted to tell God how bad this hurt, so I went to confession. I was the last one in line to make it in time. Father took his time with me, even after the bells sang loudly that it was time for Mass. I could hardly muster the words as I cried so much. Poor Father could barely understand me. He had so much wisdom though. I love our pastor. He is such a good spiritual father, and going to him was like going home. I allowed my broken heart to lay in the heart of Christ. Honest. Vulnerable. Real. It was awful, beautiful, and human. I’m not one for pretending how bad loss hurts. I told him everything.

He listened and told me ”Come to Mass angry. Give God all of your anger and allow Him time to transform it.” I knew that was what I needed, because what else could I do. Anger is a part of grief. Anger is human, and I can’t hide the fact that my human mama heart felt like it was being ripped apart.

I went back to my pew, offered my penance, and let my tears hit the floor. In my head, I was screaming through my tears. “If this is your will then you must conform my heart to yours.” My lament got softer as I let the grace of confession move through me.

During the consecration, I gave everything to the Lord. I received the Lord and knelt quietly in my pew giving thanks for His body that was broken and given for me. After I received communion, there was a change in my heart. It was a subtle hint but one of peace.

The following week I stayed home from work, as well as my husband. Ryan cared for me and tended to my physical needs, and when the tears came over me, he blessed me with holy water, held me, and prayed over me.

So many friends reached out. My team sent me flowers. People brought food. More importantly, people gave dignity to Eva Catherine’s life. She was our child. A child we wanted to behold. Instead, we had to give her back to the Blessed Mother to return home to her Son.

What a gift to receive a text from Sr. Marie Thérèse as she was in prayer with our family. She told me "God must love you and trust you a lot to let your heart get pierced like His Mothers." As I read it, the tears burst out of me, and I grasped for my mouth. I love the Blessed Mother so much, but in those moments, I didn't feel so blessed or loved by the Lord. Death brings you to the brink where truth and reality meet. Sometimes I believe that I will soar through my pain and grief, and other times it simply is not the case.

Sometimes I am lamenting to the Lord in utter disbelief. And sometimes I am coping. As I enter into each suffering time and time again, I've realized that I no longer feel so alone. I know the Lord is so close to me, and even when I feel like the earth will swallow me whole in an abyss of pain, because I am in Sanctifying Grace I no longer feel the isolation and desolation of my grief.

I know where to go. I go back to my safe place. I close my eyes and I see myself once again. I am at the foot of the Cross right now. I’m looking up at our Lord. He is broken. He is bleeding. And so am I. I am not alone. Mary, Jesus, John, and Mary Magdalene are with me too.