Baptism, Part Deux

To ease us back into the grace of the Baptism I'd hoped to start off with some information about the beauty of St. Stephen's Roman Catholic Church. Unfortunately, after several hours of googling St. Stephen's Church in Pittsburgh, I didn't learn the name of the architect or the history behinds it's tall, regal, columns or who oversaw the creation of the long, colorful stained glass windows.

I did, however, find out an interesting fact about the Hazelwood section of Pittsburgh. Hazelwood is the neighborhood my grandparents settled in, once a haven of Italina, Irish and Scotch immigrants. Fifty years ago, it was a thriving nexus of languages and culture, steel mills and local business. St. Stephens's Church, on Second Avenue, the main thoroughfare of Hazelwood, was completed in 1910 with a rectory built nine years later. Second Avenue was the commercial business district and also housed the Hazelwood Dairy, Cook and Parsons Lumber, Jones and Stiefel Pharmacists and a large J&L Steel plant along the Monongahela River. Now, only St. Stephen's remains. The mill closed up shop about six years ago and is almost completely dismantled. But when I lived in Pittsburgh during college, the mill was still operating. A torch reached high into the sky and you could see it from my grandparent's back porch. Ironically, you could see this same torch from my 11th floor dorm window. I'd stand in my window late at night, staring at the flame feeling an odd connection to my grandparents. We might be living worlds away, they in their a neighborhood that was decaying and me in a thriving college town, but somehow that torch united us.

In trying to find some St. Stephen's history, I found that this particular steel mill, located in what was then called the Scotch Bottom section of Hazelwood, was called the Eliza plant. The Eliza plant is gone, it's buildings dismantled and the area mostly a gaping space with train tracks covered in weeds. But one day in May, a little girl bearing the same name would return to her roots and be christened in a church just down the Street.

St. Stephen's is a beautiful church with an enormous front facade done in tan-colored stone. The church seems impossibly small inside, the large facade putting it on the level of some medium sized churches in Italy or France. Inside, the three aisles are lined with massive columns and long, arched stained glass windows line both sides of the building. As a child, I used to attend midnight mass with my parents, grandparents and whatever cousins were visiting that year. Now I sat in the second pew from the front, C beside me, holding our daughter. Another family, christening their daughter Autumn sat in the pew behind us.

Other family members started to filter in. My mother arrived with her sister, cousin and my grandfather. One of the big productions of the weekend was my grandfather's untimely loss of his hearing aid. This caused my grandmother, convinced he'd somehow done this on purpose, much consternation. My grandfather arrived and sat with my mother and her sister. My grandmother requested he sit beside her and my Aunt screamed across the church, "Daddy, she wants you to sit next to her." "

This went on for a few moments before my grandfather realized he should take his rightful place beside my grandmother. I held Eliza up so my Aunt could see she was wearing the booties she'd knit and sent after Eliza's birth. "Those will stay on," my aunt said before she and my mother sat a few pews back, near the side door so they could sneak out after communion and make sure the caterer had set up brunch properly.

Next came my father with C's parents, strutting in like a group of children on a family vacation. My father, who still loves my mother's parents as his own, raced over to say hello to them.

"Who's that?" my grandmother said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Dat's Bill," I heard my grandfather say.

"Bill who?"

"---'s father," he said.

"I didn't know he was coming," she said. I'd told her many times he would be there but the woman's 91, it's okay if her mind takes a siesta every now and then.

Finally the Priest, Father Neil, came out and handed out prayer books. We said a few prayers renouncing Satan and welcoming God into the heart of our daughter. I felt a little humble agreeing to believe in the whole God thing and I peered at C sheepishly to see if he felt the same but he kept his eyes fixed on the Priest. The Priest told us he'd summon us all up in the middle of the service, the parents, baby and Godparents. After Father Neil walked away and the church continued to fill up, C looked through the prayer book and said, "Basically he'll ask us a couple questions and we say 'I do'. Oh yeah and we have to say 'it is' a few times and then an amen."

It reminded me of that scene in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" when some one tells Hugh Grant to say "I do" whenever some one asks him a question. Then a middle-aged man sat at the piano at the front of the church and suddenly a prerecorded choir kicked in.

"Turn to page 40," Father Neil said.

"Showtime," I said.

To my surprise, C opened the song book and started singing along. I looked at him in shock but his mouth was opened wide in song. The night before, when he'd said something about how fake it would all feel in the church, I told him perhaps in the moment, I'd feel it was all real. Now it looked like he was feeling something and I felt fully aware of the hypocrites we'd become. The song ended and Father Neil began the Mass. C held Eliza, who squiggled against him but was relatively quiet. Autumn Lynn, the other baby, squawked a lot louder.

This dialogue is how I remember it, perhaps not exactly as it was.

"We have two babies to be baptized today. One named Autumn Lynn." He then went on to name her parents and "sponsors" or Godparents.

"And all the way from New York we have Elizabeth Camille ----, daughter of ------- and ------, sponsored by -------- and ------. There's a special reason Elizabeth travelled from New York today. Elizabeth's mother is the granddaughter of ------ and ------- who've been members of this church most of their lives."

He then told the congregation that my grandfather would be turning 100 years old this coming August. I knew my Grandmother would be pleased to hear her name called out in her favorite place. Eliza showed her appreciation for her moment in the spotlight by becoming more vocal. The Priest then went into the sermon which was amusing though I have no idea what the gist of it was. With two Christenings, he knew he had a full house and it was obvious his sermon had been prepared with care. It had something to do with two Irish guys in Washington DC and about how no one wants to go to DC because it's always hot and sticky and you might get mugged. I laughed accordingly but started to feel the discomfort of the pew and those old wishes for a something, anything to read returned.

Eliza squealed louder and M helped me prepare a bottle for her. As soon as Eliza saw the bottle her face changed and she quieted down. M and I laughed quietly at my smart little baby who's mood changed when a bottle was whipped out. C took the bottle and started to feed her while Autumn fussed in the pew behind us. I looked around and saw my mother, my father, my grandparents in front of me, C's family, C and M on either side of me and I realized, practically everyone I loved was in this room. I remember one of my friends saying that's why she started to cry as she came down the aisle on her wedding day. She realized everyone she loved was there.

Half a Tolstoy novel later, Eliza now with just one bootie on, the Priest called us up to the alter. The two families with Godparents shuffled up to the three steps and Father Neil told us to take our place by a large stone basin shaped like a Marie Antionette champaign flute.

"Whoever's holding the baby stand here," Father Neil said. C moved into position with Eliza. "Mom stand here and the sponsors behind you."

The Priest then handed me a towel and told me I got to dry her off. C propped Eliza over the basin. C's mother moved beside my grandparents with her Kodak disposable camera. Since we hadn't finished dressing Eliza until the church, these would be the only photos of Eliza in her Christening gown.

Father Neil said a few prayers, then gently poured water onto Eliza's head from a silver pitcher. Eliza tilted her head back to look at the Priest and seemed to enjoy the feeling of the cool water.

"You can dry her off now, Mom," Father Neil said and I dabbed her head with the towel. Autumn Lynn took her place at the basin and the four of us clustered awkwardly on the alter. I looked out into the church and saw my mother, now at the near end of pew, smiling. She was wearing pink with a pretty print scarf her friend Sylvia had given her. When Autumn Lynn was done drying off, the Priest gathered in front of all of us.

The Priest then asked myself and the other Mom if we promised to be good mothers and serve our children well. We both said "I do." Then he turned to the fathers and asked "Do you promise to be a good father, a good husband and a good provider." I looked at C, his face impassive as he looked at the father, Eliza content in his arms and suddenly I felt it, the power of this moment. C and I aren't married, have never taken vows to each other. This might be as close as we get and suddenly the sweep of it all felt overwhelming. We were making vows to each other, to our daughter in front of the entire congregation. We could not turn back now.

Father Neil handed candles to the Godfathers to light, then asked us to step down from the alter. I turned to C and asked to hold Eliza. He handed her to me and we stood in front of the congregation.

"Let's welcome the newest member of the Catholic Faith," the Priest said. Everyone in the church applauded and I stood there, my daughter against me, my father clapping, my mother clapping. Eliza grinned and squiggled, enjoying her moment.

"Let's present the newest members to the church."

The Priest then grabbed the other baby and instructed me to walk with Eliza alongside him. "Don't be shy," he said and I rushed to catch up. I held Eliza facing out, my hand between her legs. She kicked the leg that had lost her bootie slowly. We walked from pew to pew as the Priest presented the other baby and then I presented mine. People waved, made baby talk, reached for her little hands. My mother pressed her hand to her chest and said, "Hi baby, she's smiling, she's smiling!" I can say with absolute truthfulness this was one of the most satisfying moments of my life to date.

We came around to the front of the church and the Priest presented the other baby to my grandfather. My grandfather smiled and took that baby's hand. Then I came up and my grandfather looked confused.

"Who dat baby?" He said, and not quietly I might add.

"That's her baby, Joe," my grandmother said.

"Oh," Pap said. "Dat's your baby."

Realizing the Priest had presented the wrong baby, I shrunk back into my pew. The rest of the mass passed in a blur. I shook hands with Michelle and everyone around me. Eliza cuddled against me, tired from the festivities. She dug into my shoulder, hoping to nurse.

The mass ended, the recorded choir kicked in, and the Priest made his ceremonial processional through the church. Friends of my grandparents came up to say hello and people I've never met and probably won't see again complimented my baby and my dress. In the car, on the way to the brunch, Eliza fell asleep. I brought her up in the stroller, fast asleep. When she woke and wanted to nurse, I took her to my grandmother's apartment and changed her into a fuschia sundress. It was only when I was done I realized I hadn't taken one photo of her in the little christening gown I had worn. Perhaps, someday soon, we'll go to my Aunt's and dress her, just so I can have a photo of my little one in her white gown.

It was a beautiful day and I was so happy to share my daughter with the world. Perhaps I don't believe in God, but I do believe in the love of family and the importance of being together to celebrate that love. Maybe Eliza will gather with all of us in a church again, maybe she won't want to. But I feel more complete now, having that day to hold her and present her to the world and in a way, say to everyone "Look what I have! Thank you! Thank you so much for this wonderful little gift!"