The feeling of elation spread throughout my days as I experienced backaches and twinges, realizing the time was near to find out who my little infant would be — a boy or a girl. Throughout my pregnancy, Shawn and I referred to our unborn child as Luke. I’m not sure why we chose Luke, especially since we did not know Brian would be a boy; we just didn’t want to keep referring to our unborn child as “it” or “baby.”

On June 16, 1982, my actual due date, my water broke. I can still see myself standing in my bedroom and thinking, Oh boy, here we go. We had just returned home from eating at the Golden Corral, where I chose steak tips. (To this day, I don’t eat steak tips.) I called my midwife and told her about the situation, and she said she’d meet me at the hospital. Amidst the excitement and anxiety, we gathered my packed bags and drove to Ireland Community Hospital (the Army Post at Ft. Knox, KY). It was a short drive as we lived on Post.

Upon arriving at the hospital around 6:30 PM, all the normal procedures fell into place. Our midwife, Dee Albert, was excited to see us. I was one of her first patients, and she had been with me throughout the pregnancy. My contractions slowed down so much that after three hours it was decided to give me Pitocin. It still took a while for contractions to pick up, and when they did, they were hard contractions. I remember squeezing Shawn’s hand so tightly that I was surprised his hand wasn’t black and blue. A spot on the wall became my focal point, as I hadn’t thought to bring a picture or item for focusing during contractions.

At some point in the middle of the night, an oxygen mask was placed over my face. I struggled to keep it on until I was told it was for my baby and not for me. At that point, I became aware that something was not going well with my baby. The fetal monitor showed signs of fetal distress. Changing positions to improve the symptoms was not working, so the medical team inserted a fetal scalp monitor to get more accurate results.

Finally, around four in the morning, the time came to push. For three hours, I pushed with all my might. It was pretty evident how hard I pushed as the capillaries in my face were all broken. (Lesson learned for future babies.) At some point during the pushing stage, when progress was delayed, I was moved to the OR to be prepped for a C-section. Continuing to push, our baby decided it was time to be born without an operation. (I was determined to have a natural delivery without medication, and so I did.) We named him Brian after Shawn’s brother, who had died in a car accident five years earlier.

Brian was delivered and immediately taken to an incubator. I remember thinking that I didn’t get to hold him. The baby team worked on him for a short time in the delivery room, then moved him to the NICU. For 45 minutes the team worked to help him breathe on his own. We were told he had a strong heart but was unable to breathe. Shawn and I remained in the OR/delivery room while the midwife and doctor completed their work on me, sewing up an episiotomy.

At some point, we asked for a priest to baptize Brian, and always assumed he was baptized. Neither Shawn nor I remember talking to the priest, but the medical notes indicate that one did talk to us. When we were told that Brian did not survive, our world came crashing down. Thankfully, Shawn and I were together to share our sorrow and tears.

In the recovery room, a nurse or the midwife asked if I wanted to hold my baby. I told them "No" two times. In my mind, I couldn’t imagine holding a dead child. Then, when asked the third time, it hit me that somewhere down the road I might regret not having held him. Shawn accepted whatever decision I made. Brian was presented to us wrapped in a baby blanket I had brought from home. He was the most beautiful baby we had ever seen — blue eyes, an abundance of light-colored hair, and a face with cheeks you just wanted to kiss. Unwrapping him, his skin was soft and perfect. His little hands and feet were adorable. His development was that of a perfect little boy. He was full-term at 7 pounds, 4 ounces, and 21½ inches long. Shawn held him for a while and kissed him on the cheeks.

After Brian was taken from us, I was given the option to go to the Postpartum floor or the General Surgery floor. I decided on Postpartum, as I knew I needed to deal with the loss of Brian. Some of my friends were pregnant, and I was always going to be around babies. It was a tough call — even though I was in a private room, I was still amid mothers with their healthy babies crying. This only made our grief more pronounced, but at the same time helped me gain strength.

After two days in the hospital, Shawn took me home to a house filled with baby decorations, gifts for our child, and shattered hopes and dreams. My parents and sister drove from Ogallala, NE to be with us. Our neighbors and friends showered us with love and support, bringing us much comfort.

We had a memorial prayer service for Brian at the funeral home. My mom and sister made a small banner with the words “Angel of God”. We hung this at the service and have the same words on Brian’s gravestone. My sister Peggy brought her guitar and sang “On Eagle’s Wings” by Michael Joncas at the service. The next day, Shawn accompanied Brian’s body to Louisville, KY to put him on a plane to Pierre, SD. After the traumatic birth, I was unable to travel to Highmore, SD for his burial. We chose Highmore because Shawn’s family lived on a ranch nearby, and his brother and grandparents were buried in the same cemetery. We felt Brian would not be alone. We did not know where our travels would take us or how long Shawn would be in the Army. Burying Brian at Ft. Knox felt isolated and was a location we felt we would rarely be able to visit.

My brother and sister-in-law and Shawn’s brother met Brian at the airport in Pierre. They accompanied him back to Highmore. On June 23rd, the family had a memorial prayer service for Brian at Luze Funeral Home in Highmore. Brian’s casket was open for people to see our beautiful baby. Shawn’s mom took a picture of him in the casket. Following the service, Brian was laid to rest at the Catholic cemetery in Highmore.

Prior to the service, I had asked Shawn’s mom not to take a picture of him. I couldn’t imagine wanting to look at pictures of an infant who was no longer with me. Shortly after the burial, I think his mom mailed me five pictures — one of Brian and four of his casket at the funeral home and cemetery. I was angry that she had taken pictures. I put them in an envelope along with condolence cards and Brian’s memorabilia and put them in a box in a closet. My sister-in-law, Connie, sent us three small booklets on grief and it took me a while to want to read them or look at them prayerfully. It hurt to read about grief and the loss of a baby.

Seventeen months later, we had a little girl, Kathleen (Katie), and seventeen months after Katie, another daughter, Jacquelyn (Jacque). Two years later, our son Thomas was born, making our family complete.

Throughout the years, we celebrated Brian’s birthday with song, cake, prayers, and memories. Years later, I realized how grateful I was that Catherine, Shawn’s mom, took Brian’s picture. I’ve learned that grief can really take hold of you and cause you to make decisions that aren’t rational. On occasion, I would open Brian’s box and look at his picture and marvel at what a beautiful baby he was. I showed his picture to our children, but I never displayed it. Cameras back in 1982 didn’t provide the clearest picture, but it was the only photo of our little boy that we had.

In May of 2009, when Thomas graduated from college, I decided to give a picture of Brian to each of our three kids. I made three copies, framed them, and gave them to Brian’s sisters and brother. However, I still didn’t display his picture among our family photos.

In 2019, Shawn and I decided our burial place would be at the Black Hills National Cemetery outside of Sturgis, SD. Shawn’s service in the Army allows us to be buried together. National cemeteries allow infants to be buried next to their parents. Knowing this, we decided to have Brian reinterred so we could be near him when we die. When making arrangements, Tiffany, the funeral director in Highmore, informed us that an infant’s casket is buried within an adult grave and that the exact location is not recorded. If the backhoe damaged the casket, we would need to buy a new one. We understood the possibility. We asked Tiffany if the casket had to be replaced, based on her recommendation, would we be able to view Brian. She told us she would keep us apprised.

We received a call from Tiffany that disinterment had occurred and that the casket had indeed been damaged. She proceeded to tell us that we were not going to believe her next words. Brian looked the same as the day we buried him—there was no corruption of his body! She had carefully undressed him to wash the blanket and sleeper he was wearing as the breaking of the casket had soiled his garments a bit. In doing so, she saw his whole body as complete and developed as the day he was placed in the casket. She told us he would be ready for us to view, if we desired, when we picked him up for the reinterment. Shawn and I were ecstatic! We felt chills thinking we could see our baby boy again!

Two of our children, Katie and Thomas, and one of Shawn’s sisters, Alison, met us in Pierre on November 7, 2019. We spent the night together before driving 50 miles to Highmore to see Brian and transport him 226 miles to the Black Hills National Cemetery near Sturgis, SD. Upon reaching the funeral home in Highmore, our emotions were all over the place. We were excited, anxious, timid, and nervous all at the same time. Walking into the funeral home, we met the director, Tiffany. She was very lovely and gave us a warm welcome.

Brian was lying in a bassinet casket with a little teddy bear sitting up in a corner. I remember thinking it was a little funny that Tiffany provided it, but it was softening and cute. Shawn and I walked down the aisle of the chapel to see our baby. Katie, Thomas, and Alison waited in the back to give us space as we met him again after 37 years and five months.

Oh, my goodness, the feelings that came over us were breathtaking! His beautiful body, clothed and wrapped in the blanket we had laid him to rest in, was right in front of us. I touched his shoulder and then asked Tiffany if I could hold him. She told me it was fine. I picked him up and sat down on the bench with him. Shawn was in awe of his appearance and me holding him. I unwrapped the blanket to see his hands, and they were perfect. His fingernails were bluish, as you see from birth. It felt like I was holding a China doll, and yet he was our son! Our kids and Alison were overwhelmed by their emotions. It was miraculous that we were with him, and I was holding his body that had not changed in 37 years! After we spent some time with him, I put him back in the bassinet/casket, and Tiffany closed and sealed the casket again.

Shawn and I put him in our vehicle to carry him out to the Black Hills for the reinterment. Alison, Katie, and Thomas followed us in their vehicle. During this trip, Alison looked in the glove compartment of her car and discovered the picture of Brian’s casket at Highmore’s cemetery before it was buried! She inherited the car from her brother, Kevin, who had passed away from cancer in 2010! He had kept it all these years!

Aileen (Ace), Shawn’s sister, arranged for a priest to be present for the reinterment service. Fr. Mike Mulloy met us as we pulled up to the facility. We immediately showed him Brian’s picture we took at the funeral home, and he was amazed. He told us we have a Saint in heaven. He facilitated a beautiful prayer service to reinter Brian. Several of our family members from both sides of the family came to witness the reinterment.

From that day forward, we have found that sharing our story brings peace of mind to those who are grieving or need hope that they will see their loved ones again.