I picked up Lily's ashes today. I know it seems like going by myself makes me a glutton for punishment or a total martyr, but honestly, I just wanted it done. I wanted her to be home, and I knew Steve wanted that, too.
It was actually a really easy experience, logistically. I was only in the office for about 30 seconds and the woman offered to bring the box out to my car so that I didn't have to leave the girls alone, so it's not like I had to stand around a depressing, stifling funeral home for a long time.
The ashes came in just a simple, cardboard box since we had our own...container. A women's group from a local church knits blankets for the ashes of babies, which I thought was kind of sweet.
No matter what you know in your head, the reality of how small she was, and how that translated into such a small amount of ashes, always defies your expectations.
The vase on the piano that we chose for the ashes. I know there will be some days when it brings me comfort and some days when I want to stuff it behind the piano, but overall, we're glad and at peace to have her home once and for all.
I just liked seeing her name in writing. Even if it was for this purpose.
We got a call from the doctor yesterday morning with results from the baby's autopsy and genetic tests. The results showed something called Triploid Syndrome, or Triploidy, which means that every one of her chromosomes were tripled. It's extremely rare to have the chromosomal disorder where every single chromosome is tripled, rather than just one, like Downs Syndrome.
It was nice to have some answers and also to feel like it was such an abnormality that we didn't need to be scared to try for more babies. We will probably go ahead and do genetic testing on Steve and I before trying again, but at least we have some comfort in our heads about the whole thing.
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