Hilary Julian LeBlanc - August 23rd, 2013

We're sorry what means to be a fun and uplifting blog has to communicate such sad news, and you might not be expecting it, tuning in. We weren't.

Last Wednesday, at our standard structural ultrasound, we learned that our unborn baby had died a few weeks ago. The following day, Monique and I went to hospital, where the miscarriage was induced.

Our tiny son, Hilary Julian, was born Friday morning. It was the toughest thing I have ever seen or experienced. Grief will hold us, squeeze us, and drop us as it wills over the next while.

Our family has received gracious blessing around this tremendous loss. Right now, the kids seem fine and are grieving in their own way. The toughest thing about them for me is that we didn't have full information when we left them Thursday for the hospital, and we were caught up in our own necessity - we were gone 24 hours, but they got through the sudden circumstance very well. The biggest grace in this was my family: my cousin Katherine came over and cared for our children so generously, and her sister Cheryl and my dad were there to back her up, ensuring our children were safe and well as we attended to our son. We are so grateful to them.

The staff at Royal University Hospital, with very few very minor exceptions, were absolutely outstanding at the difficult job of providing the utmost compassionate and professional care. They brought their very persons to encounter us in our shock and grief, always introducing themselves and expressing their sorrow. They extended every option to us, listening to and respecting our needs. We requested and got a confirmation of the diagnosis - this was important for me, because I was not at the original ultrasound. We were not overloaded with information or choices, but given everything we asked for when we were ready for it. We even met a neighbour, who was a senior nurse there. Oh, and the gluten free food wasn't bad at all!

Our hearts are broken in such a unique way. Our loss is early, but tangible, as our child lay nestled in our hands. Our loss is mysterious, since we never got to know our son's personality, but with a name and face. We join many many parents - 1 in 4 pregnancies ends in loss - but our loss is below the surface, rarely talked about, seen or understood. My grandmother, my aunt, our friends, these women and their husbands have gone before us and have borne their losses bravely, and have already extended their compassion.

Monique says she knows that there is a reason for this, we just don't know what it is. And we won't for a while.

It's still early in the planning, but we will have a service and an interment... right now we're hoping for Wednesday. Please say a prayer for us, that God's Spirit of healing will be with us.

Not everyone will want to, but I wanted to allow those who did to see Hilary. His beauty is hidden and mysterious, but holding him and seeing him was absolutely necessary for me.

You can see him here.