Friday, January 9, 2009

Weeping for Victoria


I manage about 200 to 250 emails a day, many of which are from grieving families around the world. The resonance of their stories coalesces during many times of my life, their valencies a buoy during my own times of existential crisis. 

So I weep. I weep often doing the work that I do. This morning was no exception:

Dear Dr. Cacciatore,

My name is Natalie Anderson. I am writing to express my deepest gratitude for the work that you do on behalf of stillborn children, and their families. In 1996, my first child was stillborn. My life was forever changed.

Yesterday, I wrote about and linked to your foundation on my
blog. I had many people commenting that I should pass along, to you, what I wrote. I have pasted it below. I am certain my writing is not politically correct enough for many people. I wish I could apologize, but really I am not sorry for the things I wrote.

Thank you again most sincerely for your tireless efforts... You(r work has) touched more lives than you can imagine.

Respectfully,
Natalie Anderson
Ellicott City, Maryland


Victoria is her daughter, her handsake; and she is Victoria's mother. No political agenda, no imposed labels, no assumptions, and no force on earth- not even Death- can change that.

Thank you, Natalie, for sharing Victoria's precious hands with us all.  

And this morning, I wept for Victoria.

4 comments:

Natalie said...

There are no words I can say, except Thank you. Sincerely.

Carly said...

Tears, sobs and anger.

I am thankful that the laws in Australia give birth certificates. I can't imagine not being given that validation.

Victoria was a person, no matter what some pathetic law says.

Natalie said...

I have thought all day of "handsake". Beautiful. And, thank you again.

Dr. Joanne Cacciatore said...

Carly, dear, indeed. Indeed.

Natalie- of course. I am honored to have shared her life...

Becoming...

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
The soul still sings in the darkness telling of the beauty she found there; and daring us not to think that because she passed through such tortures of anguish, doubt, dread, and horror, as has been said, she ran any the more danger of being lost in the night. Nay, in the darkness did she, rather, find herself.

--St. John, Dark Night of the Soul


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