By Antonina Zielinska Schlenker

My son amazes me. At about three pounds he is already able to shake me awake with his somersaulting shenanigans and his deep dive explorations of my organs and my ribs.

Although not yet born, he is already clearly his own person. At times he will dance energetically to nearly anything with a tune and on other days he is unimpressed. His father’s voice and touch are the only things that will consistently attract his attention no matter the time or day.

This whole creation of new life is beyond my ability to understand. So I conceded that, as with other mysteries pertaining to God, trying to understand is futile and simple wonder, gratitude, joy and trust are a much better response. This attitude has given me great peace, but has come only after a great struggle.

Shortly after my husband and I came back from our honeymoon, we realized we left as a newlywed couple but came back as a family unit of three. This was shocking. We both wanted to be parents. I daydreamed of being a mother for as long as I could remember. But this was happening right now? For real? What? I was at a loss of words.

When I was able to make words come out of my mouth again, my husband, my mother and I celebrated. We have a baby! (Wait – what? a baby? inside of me? right now? I’m not even used to the idea of being a wife yet!) I was in a daze somewhere between joy, fear and complete lack of understanding.

Things got real, real quick. Six days later, I was in an emergency room and the doctor was apologizing profusely. Confusion and utter fear gripped me. Barring some great miracle, my baby is dead; died most likely shortly after conception. They can’t find the baby. The baby’s body could be rotting somewhere in my fallopian tube or worse still be alive stuck in a fallopian tube with no chance of survival, an ectopic pregnancy. Scraping may be needed. Ectopic pregnancy used to be the number one killer in young women.

But there is good news, the doctor told me. My husband and I are obviously very fertile; conceiving is the hard part, so there should be no problem getting pregnant again.

How is that good news?! I just found out I probably lost my baby before I even knew he existed; doctors want to scrape him out of me and I’m supposed to be happy that I’m fertile? Being fertile seemed horrible if it just meant more dead babies. Besides, I don’t want another child; I want my kid! This child was not a toy or a concept. This child was a unique child of God with a soul – this child is in no way replaceable!

I was discharged to go home with an order to come back two days later for evaluation. The paper said “threatened abortion” – abortion?! Did my body just abort my baby? Is that what you are telling me?

Confusion and horror is what followed. I was left with more questions than answers. The baby was not baptized. Was the baby going to make it to heaven? Was this my fault? Was the baby still alive, lost on his way with no hope for survival? Will there be a funeral? How can I bury a baby that is microscopic? What is ectopic pregnancy and what is Church teaching on this matter?

A Google search answered that last one. Church teaching when it comes to ectopic pregnancy is simple. If a live baby is stuck in a fallopian tube with no hope for survival and the mother’s life is in danger, the affected part of the fallopian may be removed to save the mother’s life with the unintentional consequence of ending the baby’s life. The more common medical procedures of forcing the baby out with drugs or scraping the baby out is morally wrong because in these actions the main intended consequence is the death of the child, abortion, which is always morally wrong. The only way that procedure could be morally justifiable is if doctors can say for sure that the baby has already died.

This made no sense to me. The baby dies no matter what, but in order to save my own life I would have to give up the use of a fallopian tube, cutting out a very important part of me and decreasing my fertility by at least half, blocking passageway for half my eggs. How could I explain this to my husband who is not Catholic? What will this do to our young marriage? What are the options? I surely don’t want to endanger my immortal soul.

So I prayed. “O blood and water, which gushed forth from the heart of Jesus, as a fount of mercy for us, I trust in you.” I prayed and put my trust in God. In this way I came to a couple of important conclusions. This is a child of God, surely God loves my baby and would not put him in eternal damnation for a circumstance that was completely out of the baby’s control. Besides, I received communion while pregnant with this child, he was nourished with the Body and Blood of God through my body. God would save his eternal soul.

I also decided that I would trust in God’s providence over the knowledge of man. Surely the Creator of the universe could move this baby into a secure place so that surgery would not be needed, if that were His will. He loves me; He will do what is best.

When I returned to the hospital, two days after my initial visit, exams revealed new information. I was healthy: no need for any procedure. But wait, there was more: there is a pocket on the screen that could perhaps be life. I should come back in another two days.

I was too emotionally exhausted to have much of a reaction. All I could do was pray and put my faith in God. I held on to my husband, the father of my child. He was then and would always be a father, even if he would never have the chance to hold his child in his arms.

Two days later, a heartbeat emerged. A little flicker the doctors looked at intently before saying anything. It happened again. There was a baby, with a heartbeat. There were no guarantees of what would happen, but as of then we were the parents of a living human being.

Although I was extremely grateful, I was too emotionally exhausted to be happy. Anything could still happen.

Through these trying times, I was blessed with great support. My co-worker let me cry in her arms, my boss listened caringly, my priest shared his wisdom and assured me of his prayers, my mother gave her presence, my friends cheered us on and my husband suffered alongside me. I cannot imagine having to suffer this alone. Of course, I clung onto God’s strength and mercy, but His children on earth became the physical manifestation of God’s love for me. Yet so many mothers and fathers suffer the tragic loss of their unborn children alone, in silence.

According to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, 10-25 percent of clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage within the first 20 weeks of life. According to the American Pregnancy Association, one in every 50 pregnancies is an ectopic pregnancy, when the fertilized egg attaches itself to somewhere other than the inside of the uterus. That’s a lot of children lost and a whole lot of parents in pain.

Yet, going into marriage, I had no idea about any of this. Talking to my friends, I found out that neither did they. Talking to married women, I came to discover how many did know and knew very well.

As a Church, I think we spend a lot of time talking about the evils of abortion, and rightfully so. Every life is a precious miracle. But if we believe in the sanctity of life, why do we not have a place or ritual for babies who die within the first days or weeks of their life? Maybe we do, but I am unaware of these. Also I think that the circumstances around pregnancy and life and medical practices are not nearly discussed enough.

With the upcoming World Meeting of Families and the Synod of Bishops on the Family, I hope that somewhere between the hot topics discussed some thought is put into the circumstances that surround our first days on earth.