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A Private Funeral

On the day that I buried my infant daughter, I received a card from a distant relative on my husband’s side. I’d call it a sympathy card, but the hand-scrawled message from the sender negated any comfort it was meant to bring to us.

“It’s so refreshing to hear of a couple choosing life over abortion.”

Refreshing? That’s a word that wouldn’t make my top million descriptors of the experience. Was it excruciating, soul-crushing, and bone-wearying? Yes. Refreshing? Not in the least.

I’ve tried, over and over again, to understand what would prompt someone to think such a thing, much less write it in a missive to the bereaved, but I can’t find a reasonable explanation, other than the fact that it’s easy to arm-chair quarterback the lives of people you’ve only met once. It’s easy to judge when you don’t have a vested interest in the case at hand.

It was precisely that fact that led us to a private funeral for Anna. After months of being asked if I was going to terminate the pregnancy, and being told that there had to be something the doctors could do, and listening to people who weren’t shy about spouting off on my situation, I couldn’t bear the thought of exposing my beautifully imperfect baby to insensitive or prying eyes.

We fibbed in the obituary and said that services had already been held. They hadn’t, of course, but well-meaning people have a tendency to see and hear what they want to and I didn’t want to tempt fate with those who might mistakenly believe that the term “private” did not apply to them.

It wasn’t out of meanness or spite that we closed the funeral to everyone outside of our immediate family and closest friends. Rather, it was out of self-preservation. We’d been judged by the court of public opinion for months and were entitled to a respite. It was probably the first time in my life that I didn’t feel guilty about setting boundaries.

There were people who were put off by our decision, but it was the best thing Scott and I could have done. Mourning in the company of relative strangers would have inhibited our ability to absorb the healing energy that a funeral rite is meant to provide.

Anna’s intimate funeral gave us—natural introverts that we are—space and permission to fall to pieces. It enabled us to stop worrying about what people might think and give in to our grief. 

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