The Funeral That Wasn't for Baby Cindy

It's Memorial Day and we made the rounds to place flowers upon our family members graves. Pink flowers, always pink, for a special little girl.  It's hard to believe that it will be 44 years this August 14th.  This is the story of my personal loss.

I was told to admit myself into the hospital, my baby would not survive, chromosome defect, and my 

life was in danger.

We lost our little girl when I was 8 months pregnant. During this sad time you listen to what you are told and I was told not to have a funeral, not to name her. This is why she has no name on her stone. But I wanted people to know whose child she was so we put our names upon her stone.

The fact of the matter was we had already chosen a name for her, Lucinda. I wish we had scribed her name upon the stone. We were going to call her Cindy. She is buried with her grandparents, Cecil and Shirley Lockhard, in Pine hill Cemetery, West Bridgewater, Ma, so she is not alone. 

I watched out the window of my hospital room and saw the black car arrive to take my baby away.  I felt some comfort knowing that a friend from my high school class working in the family business would gently care for her.  Cindy was laid to rest in her father's white christening gown while I was still in the hospital.  There was no service for my little Cindy, and I was afraid to have more children.

I went home to my other two children, but this did not ease my pain, I felt empty.  A cousin stopped by to visit.  She was from out-of-state and she had a newborn baby that I asked to hold.  I broke down and cried for the first time as I cuddled her baby.

A few days later I told my husband I was ready to go to the cemetery.  Not able to afford to buy flowers at that time, I picked flowers from my garden and we headed out to the cemetery.  My husband told me her casket was white, as I looked upon the outline of where she was laid to rest.  I presented my small bouquet and then told my husband I wanted another baby as I cried in his arms.