A Name and a Blessing (updated)

Henry was blessed yesterday. He received a beautiful, heartfelt blessing, pronounced by his father and the love of my life, surrounded by good men who hold the priesthood. We did it at my brother-in-law’s house so it was very comfortable, I prepared most of the food and it tasted good, and my mom and most of Nathaniel’s family was able to come. So by most standards it was a lovely Mormon ritual.

But for me it was just awful. I fought back tears much of the time, and they wouldn’t have been tears of joy.

Once I was watching an episode of a TV show that centered on a baby’s christening. I admit I am pretty ignorant of the practices of other religions, so when the mother held the baby as the baby was sprinkled with water, I was intrigued. I loved the image of the mother and father standing together with their baby.

I admit, I wanted to have that experience. If I couldn’t bless Henry, I wanted to hold him while he was being blessed. I wanted to be more than an afterthought in special ritual. I wanted a bigger part in communing with God and showering blessings upon this special new being.

Because Henry and I – we have a connection. Many of my feelings about this are too personal to share here, but suffice it to say that he is a little miracle. Yes, this is true for all babies, but that doesn’t make it any less profound. He transformed me. He somehow changed everything for the better.

And I know him. I know that after I bathe him the little hair that he has gets fuzzy like a peach. I know about that one eyelash he has that is twice as long as the others. I know when he just needs to be held. I know he loves me and my touch. Of course I know him, because he is my child. I wake up at all hours to nurse him. I deal with his spit-up and his diapers. I comfort him when he is upset. Like all mothers do.

And once, my church was a church that encouraged women to bless their children. It encouraged women to give other women blessings in preparation for childbirth. It recognized “the privilege of a mother to have faith and to administer to her child.”

So Nathaniel asked the bishop if I could just hold Henry while he was being blessed.

No, he said. I couldn’t. Melchizedek priesthood holders only.

So I sat to the side. This bishop who had never seen Henry before, and who said I could not hold my baby while he was blessed, was among the men who stood in the circle. I fought back tears the entire time.

I wish I could write a happy blog post about Henry’s baby blessing, one with lots of happy pictures and stories of happy people. But I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.

I wanted to hold my son while he was being blessed and I couldn't. And it breaks my heart.

UPDATE: I put this in the comments, but I think I should also put it here: The bishop in question, although I don't know him, is by all accounts a very good man. He is well-liked and with good reason. However, the church handbook of instructions does not specifically forbid a mother holding her child while the child receives a baby blessing. I wish the instruction was given a broad interpretation of inclusion rather than a narrow interpretation of exclusion.