22. PEARLS OF WISDOM | Do you have any words of wisdom to share that you have found helpful? It could be from a writer, speaker, philosopher, maybe even a friend. Feel free to share quotes, poetry, song lyrics or just ideas. I invite you to share a message of hope for all the newly bereaved parents and loved ones out there.
One of the best thing I've heard from fellow loss moms is the idea that "it is ok to not be ok". I think too often we feel like we need to hurry up and grieve whatever our loss is, do our crying, get it out of our system and move on. Especially when it is a loss that is not talked about much in society, and when it was still during pregnancy and loss parents don't feel like they have permission to grieve, because some think "it wasn't a real baby" or you didn't even know the baby so what's to grieve about?
The simple but effective piece of advice is giving that permission, it is validating their loss and their feelings, and it is telling them that you're going to feel like shit, and that's ok. You don't have to be strong for anyone, you don't have to move on. Just take your feelings, your pain, your emptiness and just feel it. When people ask you how you're doing, you don't have to pretend to be ok, just to avoid making them feel uncomfortable.
I also like to tell newly bereaved parents that you will be able to breathe again. I'm honest, I won't say time heals all wounds, or that you'll be ok one day or that the pain will go away. It won't, and not all wounds close up. It just gets different, it becomes your new normal, and you learn to live with it. When Kayla died, I knew the routine. I had been through many losses before, I knew I always somehow made it through them, and was eventually "ok" on a day to day basis. But in those first few weeks and months, when you're at your absolute darkest, it is very hard to believe that. It's hard to see how you will ever make it out of that pitch black tunnel, with not even a hint of light at the end.
I knew I would be ok, I just didn't know how. This was a completely different loss than I had ever been through before. I could find no silver linings. This was not the natural order of life. I couldn't see that I could ever stop feeling the way I was right then. So when you're brand new to it all, right in the very thick of the raw emotions and utter pain, it helped me to talk to people who had been through it, to see that they had not been driven mad (at least not in a noticeable way to strangers) that they had not just crumbled into a million pieces, that they were eventually able to get out of bed and face the world, to move forward, to say their child's name without breaking down before the name even made it past their lips. Telling a bereaved parent that it is ok to not be ok, and that the pain will never go away, but you will some day be able to breathe again, to smile and laugh, is my way of being that light at the end of the tunnel for them. It's my way of showing that someone is waiting for them at the end, to help them out.
And of course, my favorite inspirational writing is by Angela Miller. To this day I still read it when I need a pick me up, and it still makes me cry, and it still speaks to me and it still makes me feel better.
I have to tell you this. You didn't fail. Not even a little.
You are not a horrible mother.
You did not chose this. You didn't want this to happen. You didn't do anything wrong. It just happened. To you. Despite your begging, pleading, praying, hoping against all hope that it would not. Even though everything within you was screaming no no no no no no no no no!!!!!!
God didn't do this to punish you, smite you, or to "teach you a lesson". That is not God's way. You could not have prevented this if you: tried harder, prayed harder, or if you were a "better" person. Nor if you ate better, loved harder, yoga-ed more, did x, y, z to the nth degree or any other way you tried to fill-in-the-blank. You could not have prevented this even if you could have predicted the future like no one can.
Even if you did nothing more, you are already the best mom there is because you would have done absolutely anything to keep your child alive. To breathe your last breath to save theirs. To choose the pain all over again just to spend one more minute with them. That, is the ultimate kind of love. You are the ultimate kind of mother.
So wash your hands of any naysayers, backstabbers, or anyone who sprinted the other direction when you needed them the most. Wash your hands of the people who may have falsely judged you, ostracized you, or stigmatized you because of what happened to you. Wash your hands of anyone who has made you feel less than by questioning everything you did or didn't do. Those whose words or looks have implied that this was somehow your fault.
This was not your fault. This will never be your fault, no matter how many different ways someone tries to tell you it is.
And especially if that someone happens to be you. Sometimes it's not what others are saying that keeps us shackled in shame. Sometimes we adopt others' misguided opinions and assumptions about our situation as our own. Sometimes it's our own inner voice that shoves us into the darkest corners of despair, like an abuser, telling us over and over and over again that we failed as mothers. That if only this and what if that, it would never have happened. That you woulda, shoulda, done this so your child would not have died. This is a lie of the sickest kind. Do not believe it, not even for a second. Do not let it sink into your bones. Do not let is smother that beautiful, beautiful light of yours.
Instead, breathe in this truth with every part of yourself. You are the best damn mother in the entire world.
The kind of mother people write books about. The kind that inspires the world.
No one else could do what you do. No one else could ever be your child's mother as well as you can, as well as you are. No one else could let your child's love and light shine through them the way you do. No one else could mother their dead child as well as you do. No one else could carry this unrelenting burden as courageously. It is the heaviest, most torturous burden there is.
You have within you a sacred strength. You are the mother of all mothers. There is no one, no one, no one that could ever, ever replace you. No one. You were chosen to be their mother. Yes-chosen. And no one could parent them better in life or in death than you do.
So breathe mama, keep breathing. Believe mama, keep believing. Fight mama, keep fighting, for this truth to uproot the lies in your heart-you didn't fail. You are not a failure. Not even a little.
For whatever it's worth, I see you. I hear you guttural sobs. I feel your ache deep inside my bones. And it doesn't make me uncomfortable to put my fingers as a makeshift baind-aid over the gaping hole in your heart until the scabs come, when and if they do.
It takes invincible strength to mother a child you can no longer hold, see, touch, or hear. You are a superhero mama. I see you fall down and get up, fall down and get up, over and over again. I notice the grits and guts it takes to pry yourself out of bed every single day and force your bloodied feet to stand up and keep walking. I see you walking this path of life you've been given where every breath and step apart from your child is a physical, emotional, and spiritual battleground- a fight for your own survival - a fight to quiet the insidious lies.
You are the mother of all mothers.
Truly the most inspiring, courageous, loving mother there is- a warrior mama through and through.
For even in their death you lovingly mother them still.
- June 26th, 2013 by Angela Miller
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Friday, October 21, 2016
Capture your grief, day 21
21. RELATIONSHIPS | How have your relationships changed? Did you lose any? Have you made new friendships?
Amazingly I did not lose any, I've actually gained some, and my current relationships actually got stronger, which I know all of the above is not common during any kind of tragedy. I know, I lost a few friends when my mom died. They either didn't know what to say to me and just dissapeared out of my life, or they gave me shitty advice and then acted like nothing happened.
But I think part of that had to do with the fact that I was 9 years older when I lost Kayla. I had fewer, but better, stronger friendships. My friends were people who were not going anywhere, and were there for me just like I knew they would be. I made new friends who had been through the same or similar losses. My one friend and I, we were online pregnancy buddies. We went through very similar early miscarriages, dealt with the same infertility struggle and at the same time sought treatment from an RE, and then got pregnant within two weeks of each other.
About a month before I lost Kayla, she lost her sweet baby...she had a feeling something wasn't right and went in for an ultrasound. Her worst fears were confirmed and she was told there was no heartbeat. Understandably, our friendship was put on hold because it was just too painful for her to hear about my then healthy pregnancy that was going well, especially once we too found out we were having a girl. After Kayla was born, she was one of the first people I messaged to share our devastating news, and we were once again going through very similar losses. I sometimes wonder if we were brought into each other's lives because of what we would go through, and to pick each other up, or to just listen to the other when we were at our lowest.
A couple months later, she got pregnant with her rainbow almost exactly one week before I found out I was pregnant with mine. It was so amazing to get to go through another pregnancy together....I was her rock on her hard days, and she was mine. We knew what each other was fearing and scared of, and we understood each other's small, but to us, huge victories like our betas doubling on time, and hearing the heartbeat, and getting past our early to mid second tri loss dates. Her rainbow was born March 11th, and mine came one week and one day later on March 19th. Though we've never met in person, I consider her to be one of my very close friends and I am not sure how I would have gotten through any of the past 4 years without her. We watch each others rainbows grow on facebook, ask each other mom questions, and remember each other's angels. She has since gone on to sadly have another early loss, and then got pregnant with her second rainbow, who was born this past summer. I was sad to not be pregnant again with her this time, but that just meant I was always emotionally able to help her on her hard days and she has always been supportive about my indecision, and then finally my decision to not try for any more kids.
I also became friends with a girl I went to high school with. We didn't really hang out in the same circles back then, but when I saw her at the one and only pregnancy loss support group I went to, we have since kept in touch via facebook. I hate that other people have gone and will continue to go through what we did, but it helps to not feel so alone, and it was nice to see a familiar face at that support group when I was so nervous about going and talk about such a painful thing. It's nice to know that I'm surrounded by others that know what I go through. I was also put in touch with another girl by a mutual acquaintance who lost her baby girl a year ago. It had been long enough since my loss that I was able to offer the support and guidance that others so kindly offered to me in the beginning. I hate that people constantly have to become a new member of this group, but I am so happy when they can find others who know what they've been through, and have come out the other side and are proof that one day, you will laugh, smile, and breath again without being in such constant pain.
The best relationship of all though is that with my husband. The death of a child, the worst loss two people could ever go through, so often tears them apart. It's such a hard loss to navigate and prepare for, nobody wants to think of this ever happening. Grandparents and parents, while we want them to live forever, we do know that they will eventually pass on. We always hope it is later rather than sooner, but when it does happen, it is at least the natural order of life. But no one ever expects to lose a child, or wants to think about the possibility of losing them. So when it happens, it's just inconceivable and it's so hard to deal with for yourself, let along trying to also be there for your spouse who is hurting just the same.
Next week we will be celebrating our 6th wedding anniversary, and we've been together for 9.5 years. Things haven't always been easy, we've had our ups and downs like any couple and lately we're finding ourselves on a path that has been difficult to navigate. But my husband was my rock when Kayla died. He was there for me, he held me up when I couldn't stand on my own, he supported me, held me while I cried, and never left my side. In a time when we should have been struggling to keep things together, we were stronger than ever, and I give him all the credit. A couple years ago, I went to the cemetery to visit her grave, and her stuffed animal was all wet and muddy and I just lost it. I sat in my car next to her grave and just cried my eyes out for about half an hour. Her teddy bear shouldn't have been sitting outside in the rain at a cemetery, it should have been clean and dry in her crib, with her. I hated that buying stuff for her grave was all I got to buy her. I finally calmed down and drove home, but when I walked in the door and saw my husband, I burst into tears again and fell into his arms. Marriage is hard, and not every day is good...some days it seems like a lot of days aren't good, but I will never forget how much he was there for me during that time, and he is the only other person on this planet that knows exactly how I feel about Kayla..
Amazingly I did not lose any, I've actually gained some, and my current relationships actually got stronger, which I know all of the above is not common during any kind of tragedy. I know, I lost a few friends when my mom died. They either didn't know what to say to me and just dissapeared out of my life, or they gave me shitty advice and then acted like nothing happened.
But I think part of that had to do with the fact that I was 9 years older when I lost Kayla. I had fewer, but better, stronger friendships. My friends were people who were not going anywhere, and were there for me just like I knew they would be. I made new friends who had been through the same or similar losses. My one friend and I, we were online pregnancy buddies. We went through very similar early miscarriages, dealt with the same infertility struggle and at the same time sought treatment from an RE, and then got pregnant within two weeks of each other.
About a month before I lost Kayla, she lost her sweet baby...she had a feeling something wasn't right and went in for an ultrasound. Her worst fears were confirmed and she was told there was no heartbeat. Understandably, our friendship was put on hold because it was just too painful for her to hear about my then healthy pregnancy that was going well, especially once we too found out we were having a girl. After Kayla was born, she was one of the first people I messaged to share our devastating news, and we were once again going through very similar losses. I sometimes wonder if we were brought into each other's lives because of what we would go through, and to pick each other up, or to just listen to the other when we were at our lowest.
A couple months later, she got pregnant with her rainbow almost exactly one week before I found out I was pregnant with mine. It was so amazing to get to go through another pregnancy together....I was her rock on her hard days, and she was mine. We knew what each other was fearing and scared of, and we understood each other's small, but to us, huge victories like our betas doubling on time, and hearing the heartbeat, and getting past our early to mid second tri loss dates. Her rainbow was born March 11th, and mine came one week and one day later on March 19th. Though we've never met in person, I consider her to be one of my very close friends and I am not sure how I would have gotten through any of the past 4 years without her. We watch each others rainbows grow on facebook, ask each other mom questions, and remember each other's angels. She has since gone on to sadly have another early loss, and then got pregnant with her second rainbow, who was born this past summer. I was sad to not be pregnant again with her this time, but that just meant I was always emotionally able to help her on her hard days and she has always been supportive about my indecision, and then finally my decision to not try for any more kids.
I also became friends with a girl I went to high school with. We didn't really hang out in the same circles back then, but when I saw her at the one and only pregnancy loss support group I went to, we have since kept in touch via facebook. I hate that other people have gone and will continue to go through what we did, but it helps to not feel so alone, and it was nice to see a familiar face at that support group when I was so nervous about going and talk about such a painful thing. It's nice to know that I'm surrounded by others that know what I go through. I was also put in touch with another girl by a mutual acquaintance who lost her baby girl a year ago. It had been long enough since my loss that I was able to offer the support and guidance that others so kindly offered to me in the beginning. I hate that people constantly have to become a new member of this group, but I am so happy when they can find others who know what they've been through, and have come out the other side and are proof that one day, you will laugh, smile, and breath again without being in such constant pain.
The best relationship of all though is that with my husband. The death of a child, the worst loss two people could ever go through, so often tears them apart. It's such a hard loss to navigate and prepare for, nobody wants to think of this ever happening. Grandparents and parents, while we want them to live forever, we do know that they will eventually pass on. We always hope it is later rather than sooner, but when it does happen, it is at least the natural order of life. But no one ever expects to lose a child, or wants to think about the possibility of losing them. So when it happens, it's just inconceivable and it's so hard to deal with for yourself, let along trying to also be there for your spouse who is hurting just the same.
Next week we will be celebrating our 6th wedding anniversary, and we've been together for 9.5 years. Things haven't always been easy, we've had our ups and downs like any couple and lately we're finding ourselves on a path that has been difficult to navigate. But my husband was my rock when Kayla died. He was there for me, he held me up when I couldn't stand on my own, he supported me, held me while I cried, and never left my side. In a time when we should have been struggling to keep things together, we were stronger than ever, and I give him all the credit. A couple years ago, I went to the cemetery to visit her grave, and her stuffed animal was all wet and muddy and I just lost it. I sat in my car next to her grave and just cried my eyes out for about half an hour. Her teddy bear shouldn't have been sitting outside in the rain at a cemetery, it should have been clean and dry in her crib, with her. I hated that buying stuff for her grave was all I got to buy her. I finally calmed down and drove home, but when I walked in the door and saw my husband, I burst into tears again and fell into his arms. Marriage is hard, and not every day is good...some days it seems like a lot of days aren't good, but I will never forget how much he was there for me during that time, and he is the only other person on this planet that knows exactly how I feel about Kayla..
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Capture your grief, day 20
20. GRATITUDE | Telling people to be grateful while they are grieving is kind of absurd. You cannot force a person to feel gratitude, just like you cannot force someone to feel forgiveness. You either feel it or you don’t. I remember when I started on this journey of grief, people always said count your blessings and be grateful for what you have. I remember wanting to scream in their faces! But I took note of what they were saying and I started keeping a gratitude journal. I started writing down anything I felt grateful for and before to long gratitude lifted me out of a dark pit of despair. What are thoughts about gratitude? Do you feel it and if so, share something you are grateful for
I think feeling gratitude in regards to the surrounding grief, it is a slippery slope. Feeling gratitude can be great, it can be uplifting, and it can give you a different perspective on things. It can, as Carly Marie said, give you strength to be pulled out of rock bottom. But expecting or being expected to feel gratitude in an attempt to take away your sadness is, I think, unrealistic, unfair, and quite frankly ridiculous.
I am finding that grief, and the person/thing/experience you're grieving over are their own entity and cannot be taken away from. One's feelings about grief are not made better or worse, by anyone else's feelings or experiences. For example, I told my MIL that I sometimes struggle with my grief over Kayla, because I lost her in pregnancy. I often feel like I am not a "real" loss parent, because I think the world views it as not having lost a "real child". Even I sometimes feel like I should not be allowed to feel as sad, because I do think losing an already here, in the flesh, that you can hold, living, breathing outside of your womb child would be so much harder.
I especially have that opinion because I HAVE dealt with losing Kayla and I somehow survived, but I am absolutely convinced losing Emily would just crush me beyond comprehension and I would not even be able to get out of bed, ever. I mean of course it would, but before I lost Kayla, I am certain imagining that loss would be something I couldn't comprehend, and couldn't imagine going through and coming out the other side, relatively intact. Before my mom died when I was 25, I probably never thought I could make it through that, and sit here 12 years later, ok. I miss her, God I miss her. But I am living my life, I get out of bed each morning, I remember her with smile, and I do not cry every second of the day. I do not even cry everyday, or even every month for my mom. I am sure if I thought about losing her before I actually did, I would have been sure that even 12 years later, I would still be completely broken without her.
It's like the saying, "you have no idea how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have". Pain isn't relative. Pain is pain. When I lost Kayla, I was devastated beyond words. I was at a loss for how this was happening. It was inconceivable to me. I worried about it all the time, I was very nervous during my pregnancy, but still, when it happened, I just couldn't believe it. I worried that it would happen, but I never actually thought that it would. Sitting there in the days after, no longer pregnant, knowing I would not be bringing my baby home in 4 months, my pain was not lessened by the knowledge that she could have been born in July, been carried to term, healthy and happy, and then something terrible could have happened to her. Thinking of worse things, does not lessen the pain you are currently in.
My MIL lost her first husband when they were very young, I think about 20, and they had a baby girl who was less than a year old when he died. She was young, now alone with her daughter, and the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with was gone. She questioned...was it harder for her, being so young and thinking they had their whole lives ahead of them...or was it harder for that couple that had been married for 60 years, had spent every single day together, had a family together, and had been with that person for more years of their life than they had been without them. The answer is, there is no "harder" scenario, just different. My MIL did not miss her husband any less, just because some people have been with their spouse for more years. She was not "ok" with her loss, just because other people experience a different loss.
So I feel like expecting someone to be grateful for what they DO have, and subsequently being less bereaved because of those things is like saying "at least" in a tragedy. There is no at least. No one should expect me to feel better about my loss, because "at least" I wasn't further along. Or, "at least" I didn't have her nursery all ready, expecting to go to the hospital to give birth and bring her home. No parent should grieve less for their child, because they "at least" have other children.
However, feeling gratitude in is own entity, completely separate from my loss, absolutely. I feel gratitude all the time. I was grateful to have my husband, who was so supportive when we lost Kayla. I don't feel it was particularly healthy for him, but he put his own grief aside and he was my rock. He was there for me to lean on when I couldn't stand on my own. I do hope he has been able to somehow grieve on his own, and at a time when he knew I didn't need him to help me through it as much, because I think that is when tragedies like this tear people apart, when both people are grieving at the same time, and there is no one for the other to lean on. I can only hope I was there somehow to be his rock when he needed me to be, like he was for me.
I was grateful for my doctors. They weren't just medical professionals in charge of getting my baby out and keeping me safe. They cared, they were heart broken, and I know they still think of my girl. Of course not all the time; they've had hundreds of patients over the years....but I am sure there are times when a name, or some other memory will make them think of us, and think of our sweet girl. I send them a Christmas card with Emily's picture on it every year, so surely they think back for a moment to when she was born, and think of Kayla as well. On that same token, I was grateful for our nurses. They were all amazing, and I know they all cared. It wasn't just a job, they grieved with us.
I was grateful for our family. They were there by our side, they love and miss Kayla too....for our parents, not only did they lose a granddaughter that they were so excited to meet and join our family, but they had to see their babies in pain and hurting too. As a parent, I now know how awful that is to see your babies hurting and not being able to do anything to take away their pain. But they were there for us, they put their own grief aside to love and care for us just like we were their helpless babies again. They keep Kayla's memory alive, they include her in the count of their grandchildren. They buy her things, and participate in ways to remember her. I am very grateful for them.
I am grateful for our friends. They didn't freeze up and freak out, not knowing what to do. They didn't say, let me know if I can do anything, or ask if they should come. They just came to be with us, and held our hands. They mourned our sweet baby, and they were there for us again the following year when we were back in the hospital for a happier occasion. They knew just how huge this was for us, as it is for any parent welcoming a new baby, but they knew the long road we had traveled to get there and there were so happy for us.
I am grateful for Emily. I am grateful that I got another chance to hold a child of mine in my arms and take her home as I know so many parents aren't given that chance. I am grateful for every time she makes me smile and laugh. I am grateful for her perfect little face, that undoubtedly looks so much like her big sister's. She will never replace Kayla, she will never take away all of the pain, but I feel like by having another little girl, I was given a small glimpse into the life I didn't get with Kayla. Emily is her own person, and we love her so much, but I somehow feel like having another girl was meant to be, it was a gift and I am so grateful for it.
I think feeling gratitude in regards to the surrounding grief, it is a slippery slope. Feeling gratitude can be great, it can be uplifting, and it can give you a different perspective on things. It can, as Carly Marie said, give you strength to be pulled out of rock bottom. But expecting or being expected to feel gratitude in an attempt to take away your sadness is, I think, unrealistic, unfair, and quite frankly ridiculous.
I am finding that grief, and the person/thing/experience you're grieving over are their own entity and cannot be taken away from. One's feelings about grief are not made better or worse, by anyone else's feelings or experiences. For example, I told my MIL that I sometimes struggle with my grief over Kayla, because I lost her in pregnancy. I often feel like I am not a "real" loss parent, because I think the world views it as not having lost a "real child". Even I sometimes feel like I should not be allowed to feel as sad, because I do think losing an already here, in the flesh, that you can hold, living, breathing outside of your womb child would be so much harder.
I especially have that opinion because I HAVE dealt with losing Kayla and I somehow survived, but I am absolutely convinced losing Emily would just crush me beyond comprehension and I would not even be able to get out of bed, ever. I mean of course it would, but before I lost Kayla, I am certain imagining that loss would be something I couldn't comprehend, and couldn't imagine going through and coming out the other side, relatively intact. Before my mom died when I was 25, I probably never thought I could make it through that, and sit here 12 years later, ok. I miss her, God I miss her. But I am living my life, I get out of bed each morning, I remember her with smile, and I do not cry every second of the day. I do not even cry everyday, or even every month for my mom. I am sure if I thought about losing her before I actually did, I would have been sure that even 12 years later, I would still be completely broken without her.
It's like the saying, "you have no idea how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have". Pain isn't relative. Pain is pain. When I lost Kayla, I was devastated beyond words. I was at a loss for how this was happening. It was inconceivable to me. I worried about it all the time, I was very nervous during my pregnancy, but still, when it happened, I just couldn't believe it. I worried that it would happen, but I never actually thought that it would. Sitting there in the days after, no longer pregnant, knowing I would not be bringing my baby home in 4 months, my pain was not lessened by the knowledge that she could have been born in July, been carried to term, healthy and happy, and then something terrible could have happened to her. Thinking of worse things, does not lessen the pain you are currently in.
My MIL lost her first husband when they were very young, I think about 20, and they had a baby girl who was less than a year old when he died. She was young, now alone with her daughter, and the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with was gone. She questioned...was it harder for her, being so young and thinking they had their whole lives ahead of them...or was it harder for that couple that had been married for 60 years, had spent every single day together, had a family together, and had been with that person for more years of their life than they had been without them. The answer is, there is no "harder" scenario, just different. My MIL did not miss her husband any less, just because some people have been with their spouse for more years. She was not "ok" with her loss, just because other people experience a different loss.
So I feel like expecting someone to be grateful for what they DO have, and subsequently being less bereaved because of those things is like saying "at least" in a tragedy. There is no at least. No one should expect me to feel better about my loss, because "at least" I wasn't further along. Or, "at least" I didn't have her nursery all ready, expecting to go to the hospital to give birth and bring her home. No parent should grieve less for their child, because they "at least" have other children.
However, feeling gratitude in is own entity, completely separate from my loss, absolutely. I feel gratitude all the time. I was grateful to have my husband, who was so supportive when we lost Kayla. I don't feel it was particularly healthy for him, but he put his own grief aside and he was my rock. He was there for me to lean on when I couldn't stand on my own. I do hope he has been able to somehow grieve on his own, and at a time when he knew I didn't need him to help me through it as much, because I think that is when tragedies like this tear people apart, when both people are grieving at the same time, and there is no one for the other to lean on. I can only hope I was there somehow to be his rock when he needed me to be, like he was for me.
I was grateful for my doctors. They weren't just medical professionals in charge of getting my baby out and keeping me safe. They cared, they were heart broken, and I know they still think of my girl. Of course not all the time; they've had hundreds of patients over the years....but I am sure there are times when a name, or some other memory will make them think of us, and think of our sweet girl. I send them a Christmas card with Emily's picture on it every year, so surely they think back for a moment to when she was born, and think of Kayla as well. On that same token, I was grateful for our nurses. They were all amazing, and I know they all cared. It wasn't just a job, they grieved with us.
I was grateful for our family. They were there by our side, they love and miss Kayla too....for our parents, not only did they lose a granddaughter that they were so excited to meet and join our family, but they had to see their babies in pain and hurting too. As a parent, I now know how awful that is to see your babies hurting and not being able to do anything to take away their pain. But they were there for us, they put their own grief aside to love and care for us just like we were their helpless babies again. They keep Kayla's memory alive, they include her in the count of their grandchildren. They buy her things, and participate in ways to remember her. I am very grateful for them.
I am grateful for our friends. They didn't freeze up and freak out, not knowing what to do. They didn't say, let me know if I can do anything, or ask if they should come. They just came to be with us, and held our hands. They mourned our sweet baby, and they were there for us again the following year when we were back in the hospital for a happier occasion. They knew just how huge this was for us, as it is for any parent welcoming a new baby, but they knew the long road we had traveled to get there and there were so happy for us.
I am grateful for Emily. I am grateful that I got another chance to hold a child of mine in my arms and take her home as I know so many parents aren't given that chance. I am grateful for every time she makes me smile and laugh. I am grateful for her perfect little face, that undoubtedly looks so much like her big sister's. She will never replace Kayla, she will never take away all of the pain, but I feel like by having another little girl, I was given a small glimpse into the life I didn't get with Kayla. Emily is her own person, and we love her so much, but I somehow feel like having another girl was meant to be, it was a gift and I am so grateful for it.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Capture your grief, day 19
19. GRIEF RITUALS | Creating rituals in grief do wonders for healing your heart. Do you have any grief rituals? Maybe something you do on special dates like birthdays or anniversaries? How do these rituals help you?
We have several. When Emily was born, I ordered Christmas stockings for all of us and had our names put on them, including one for Kayla. When I am buying gifts, we also buy her a new stuffed animal to put at her grave. We put it in her stocking, and then in the spring we take it to her grave. When fall comes, we "retire" it from the grave (and give it to Emily). Side story about that....I actually ordered three the Christmas I was pregnant with Emily; for me, Ryan, and Kayla. But I was too nervous to order Emily's until she was here. I couldn't decide what to put on ours, our names, or mom and dad. So I polled one of the boards I posted on, on The Bump asking which we should go with. I explained that I was ordering one for our angel, but that I was too scared and superstitious to order one for Emily yet. Most people gave me good opinions, but this one girl responded snarkily with "why are you ok with putting mom and dad on them, but not ok with ordering her stocking yet". I responded back with, "Uh, because I am already a mom to my angel, and even if God forbid something happened to Emily, I would still be her mom", She never responded to that, but I hope she felt really stupid for her comment.
We also take whatever dollar amount of money we would have spent on her Christmas presents and make a donation to St. Jude. I always fill out a card when I make the donation and it gets mailed to us, saying that this donation has been made in Kayla's memory. I ALWAYS cry when the card comes. It makes me feel good that despite our pain, we are doing our small part to help other children, and hopefully prevent some other parents from experiencing a horrific loss.
On her birthday, we go to the cemetery and do a balloon release, even last year when it was pouring rain. It obviously wasn't a big production, we just got out of the car, and let them go, and also got completely drenched, but it was her birthday and I simply would not accept doing it any other day. On her first birthday, we were headed to her grave, and that section of the cemetery has only one road to get to that entire area, and the cemetery crew had this big hose going across the road, pumping water out of some of the flooded areas since we had had a lot of rainfall that spring.
You cannot drive over the hose when it is running, so any time a car needed to go down that road they had to shut the hose down. I am normally a very accommodating person, perhaps too accommodating and I don't like to inconvenience people and or be what I fear is being rude. So my husband was like I guess we'll have to come back another day when he saw them pumping the water. I said nope, it's our baby's birthday, her FIRST birthday. They're getting paid to sit there and run that hose, and it is during business hours, so we're going.
After the cemetery we usually get a cake and/or go out to dinner or something special. We keep meaning to "adopt a grave" which is where you find a grave that looks like no one visits very often, clean it up, trim the grass around it, and leave flowers. But with her birthday being on March 24th, it's often still quite chilly and/or snowy so we've yet to do it. Her due date would have been July 26th, maybe this year we'll start the adopt a grave tradition to do on that day every year.
Since I was a little kid, I dreamed of one day being married and having a family. I would write birth announcements for my fictional children, I would make silly cards on the computer and sign them with my make-believe husband (usually whoever I liked at the time) and childrens' names. So when I was pregnant with Kayla, I was so excited to finally be able to send out a Christmas card with my real family's names on them....Love Ryan, Amy, and Kayla. But, we didn't get to do that, among other things. Once Emily arrived, I was not brave enough to write all of our names including Kayla's....I know I shouldn't care what people think, but it seems so weird to write Kayla's name, but it feels so wrong not to.
So I do neither, I just write "the insert last name here". It makes me sad, because I would love to write everyone's names, but I just cannot bear to leave Kayla off. The first year sending out cards after Emily was born, I had our last name printed on the front, and wrote Love Ryan, Amy, and Emily on the back, but the second I mailed them I felt terrible and I won't ever do that again. Kayla is a part of our family and I cannot stand to not write her name, as if she never existed.
We have several. When Emily was born, I ordered Christmas stockings for all of us and had our names put on them, including one for Kayla. When I am buying gifts, we also buy her a new stuffed animal to put at her grave. We put it in her stocking, and then in the spring we take it to her grave. When fall comes, we "retire" it from the grave (and give it to Emily). Side story about that....I actually ordered three the Christmas I was pregnant with Emily; for me, Ryan, and Kayla. But I was too nervous to order Emily's until she was here. I couldn't decide what to put on ours, our names, or mom and dad. So I polled one of the boards I posted on, on The Bump asking which we should go with. I explained that I was ordering one for our angel, but that I was too scared and superstitious to order one for Emily yet. Most people gave me good opinions, but this one girl responded snarkily with "why are you ok with putting mom and dad on them, but not ok with ordering her stocking yet". I responded back with, "Uh, because I am already a mom to my angel, and even if God forbid something happened to Emily, I would still be her mom", She never responded to that, but I hope she felt really stupid for her comment.
We also take whatever dollar amount of money we would have spent on her Christmas presents and make a donation to St. Jude. I always fill out a card when I make the donation and it gets mailed to us, saying that this donation has been made in Kayla's memory. I ALWAYS cry when the card comes. It makes me feel good that despite our pain, we are doing our small part to help other children, and hopefully prevent some other parents from experiencing a horrific loss.
On her birthday, we go to the cemetery and do a balloon release, even last year when it was pouring rain. It obviously wasn't a big production, we just got out of the car, and let them go, and also got completely drenched, but it was her birthday and I simply would not accept doing it any other day. On her first birthday, we were headed to her grave, and that section of the cemetery has only one road to get to that entire area, and the cemetery crew had this big hose going across the road, pumping water out of some of the flooded areas since we had had a lot of rainfall that spring.
You cannot drive over the hose when it is running, so any time a car needed to go down that road they had to shut the hose down. I am normally a very accommodating person, perhaps too accommodating and I don't like to inconvenience people and or be what I fear is being rude. So my husband was like I guess we'll have to come back another day when he saw them pumping the water. I said nope, it's our baby's birthday, her FIRST birthday. They're getting paid to sit there and run that hose, and it is during business hours, so we're going.
After the cemetery we usually get a cake and/or go out to dinner or something special. We keep meaning to "adopt a grave" which is where you find a grave that looks like no one visits very often, clean it up, trim the grass around it, and leave flowers. But with her birthday being on March 24th, it's often still quite chilly and/or snowy so we've yet to do it. Her due date would have been July 26th, maybe this year we'll start the adopt a grave tradition to do on that day every year.
Since I was a little kid, I dreamed of one day being married and having a family. I would write birth announcements for my fictional children, I would make silly cards on the computer and sign them with my make-believe husband (usually whoever I liked at the time) and childrens' names. So when I was pregnant with Kayla, I was so excited to finally be able to send out a Christmas card with my real family's names on them....Love Ryan, Amy, and Kayla. But, we didn't get to do that, among other things. Once Emily arrived, I was not brave enough to write all of our names including Kayla's....I know I shouldn't care what people think, but it seems so weird to write Kayla's name, but it feels so wrong not to.
So I do neither, I just write "the insert last name here". It makes me sad, because I would love to write everyone's names, but I just cannot bear to leave Kayla off. The first year sending out cards after Emily was born, I had our last name printed on the front, and wrote Love Ryan, Amy, and Emily on the back, but the second I mailed them I felt terrible and I won't ever do that again. Kayla is a part of our family and I cannot stand to not write her name, as if she never existed.
Capture your grief, day 18
18. HEALING THERAPIES | Have you discovered any healing therapies in your life after loss? Please share what has helped you.
Blogging has been huge for me. Being able to write down what I am feeling, thinking, pondering, stressing over, or just writing my baby's name for the whole world to see has helped me immensely through out this whole thing, as well as the infertility/TTC journey which was the reason I started this blog. It has now morphed into a parenting/parenting after a loss blog.
I do not share this blog with people I know. I suppose it is possible that someone I know reads this, it's not exactly private or hidden, but I don't advertise it to anyone (except on the TTC/parenting site I post on) and I do not direct anyone here. It also does not appear to show on anything people I know would look at, so I am guessing most of my readers are strangers or people from the above mentioned site. I've thought about sharing it with friends and family, but I think that would cause me to censor what I say too much. I try not to talk about any particular people in here, and if I do I try to keep it all in a good light (though I must admit, I do think I have been upset and posted my frustration about a few people before, but hopefully if they DO somehow know about this blog and have read it, they can understand that I was just getting my pain and frustration out).
But posting on a public blog can be both good and bad. On the good side, posting it for others to read helps with my healing. I feel like I am being heard, I feel like people are listening, and it is therapeutic. I have kept a private journal for years, but sometimes it just helps to write where others will see it, and may even be helped by what I am saying and feeling.
On the other hand, like I said, I think if I knew everyone I know could be reading this, it would cause me to edit what I really want to say, either because I feel like I am whining too much, or maybe so I don't sound like a horrible person when I am very honest about my feelings. I think censoring myself because I know my readers would greatly take away from the beneficial elements of blogging.
Talking to others about my loss, who have been through one themselves, has also been very healing for me. Knowing I am not alone, knowing that others felt this way or that way, hearing my very thoughts come out of someone else's mouth is just very reassuring and, I guess in some ways makes me feel like my feelings and thoughts are ok....I guess they should be anyway, as I firmly believe one's feelings are never wrong (though actions are a different story) but still, it helps to hear someone else say "I feel......" and for it to be the same way I feel or have felt.
Oddly enough, Pinterest has also helped me. I have a board of quotes, and many of them are quotes about infant loss, stillbirth, and just missing someone who has passed. I think one of the best things one can do to heal, is to feel the grief, and mourn. At the memorial last week, the leader of the Tear's Foundation was saying how everyone grieves when they experience a loss, but not everyone mourns. To mourn, you are actively doing things that helps you deal with your loss, rather than pushing it away and forcing yourself to move forward. I think my husband does this, and really most men in general. Sometimes when I am really missing Kayla, or need a good cry, or even when I am just bored, I'll browse Pinterest for quotes I like, or even just re-read the ones I have already pinned. It can be painful sometimes because it's like ripping off the band-air and exposing the wound, but I think it is also helpful in the long run. It takes me back to the moments in the hospital, and in the days, weeks, months and years since. It makes me really feel my emotions about her, and sometimes it results in a good cry and then I feel better afterward.
Blogging has been huge for me. Being able to write down what I am feeling, thinking, pondering, stressing over, or just writing my baby's name for the whole world to see has helped me immensely through out this whole thing, as well as the infertility/TTC journey which was the reason I started this blog. It has now morphed into a parenting/parenting after a loss blog.
I do not share this blog with people I know. I suppose it is possible that someone I know reads this, it's not exactly private or hidden, but I don't advertise it to anyone (except on the TTC/parenting site I post on) and I do not direct anyone here. It also does not appear to show on anything people I know would look at, so I am guessing most of my readers are strangers or people from the above mentioned site. I've thought about sharing it with friends and family, but I think that would cause me to censor what I say too much. I try not to talk about any particular people in here, and if I do I try to keep it all in a good light (though I must admit, I do think I have been upset and posted my frustration about a few people before, but hopefully if they DO somehow know about this blog and have read it, they can understand that I was just getting my pain and frustration out).
But posting on a public blog can be both good and bad. On the good side, posting it for others to read helps with my healing. I feel like I am being heard, I feel like people are listening, and it is therapeutic. I have kept a private journal for years, but sometimes it just helps to write where others will see it, and may even be helped by what I am saying and feeling.
On the other hand, like I said, I think if I knew everyone I know could be reading this, it would cause me to edit what I really want to say, either because I feel like I am whining too much, or maybe so I don't sound like a horrible person when I am very honest about my feelings. I think censoring myself because I know my readers would greatly take away from the beneficial elements of blogging.
Talking to others about my loss, who have been through one themselves, has also been very healing for me. Knowing I am not alone, knowing that others felt this way or that way, hearing my very thoughts come out of someone else's mouth is just very reassuring and, I guess in some ways makes me feel like my feelings and thoughts are ok....I guess they should be anyway, as I firmly believe one's feelings are never wrong (though actions are a different story) but still, it helps to hear someone else say "I feel......" and for it to be the same way I feel or have felt.
Oddly enough, Pinterest has also helped me. I have a board of quotes, and many of them are quotes about infant loss, stillbirth, and just missing someone who has passed. I think one of the best things one can do to heal, is to feel the grief, and mourn. At the memorial last week, the leader of the Tear's Foundation was saying how everyone grieves when they experience a loss, but not everyone mourns. To mourn, you are actively doing things that helps you deal with your loss, rather than pushing it away and forcing yourself to move forward. I think my husband does this, and really most men in general. Sometimes when I am really missing Kayla, or need a good cry, or even when I am just bored, I'll browse Pinterest for quotes I like, or even just re-read the ones I have already pinned. It can be painful sometimes because it's like ripping off the band-air and exposing the wound, but I think it is also helpful in the long run. It takes me back to the moments in the hospital, and in the days, weeks, months and years since. It makes me really feel my emotions about her, and sometimes it results in a good cry and then I feel better afterward.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Capture your grief, day 17
17. SACRED SPACE| Do you have a special place that you visit to be with your children? A place that you feel connected to? Maybe it is their grave, or a beautiful garden, beach or forest. Maybe it is a special spot dedicated to them in your home, like a shrine or altar. What does this place mean to you? Why that place?
I know some people are not, they do not feel a connection, but I am definitely a "cemetery person". With my mom, my grandparents and now Kayla, going to visit their grave, taking them flowers, bringing little decorations like spinners, or cute things for holidays always makes me feel close to them. I remember when my mom was first buried, the mound of dirt over her grave freaked me out. I didn't know they did that (had never really visited anyone's grave before that and definitely not fresh graves). It creeped me, it felt like her body was in that mound. But then one day I went after about a month or two and the mound was gone. And THAT made me sad. I had grown accustomed to it, and it felt like there was a physical presence of her and it was now gone.
But, I eventually grew used to that as well. Kayla's grave didn't have the mound since it was such a small grave and it isn't very deep. I've had several issues with her cemetery, but the immediate area around her grave is very beautiful. She's near a nice big tree, and just about ten yards away are the mausoleums sponsored by the hospital she was born at, so I feel a comforted with her being surrounded by other kids, in a special place just for the smallest angels. We very rarely come across anyone else when we go, so we have a lot of privacy and peace. Though I know others go because the graves are all decorated as well.
That first week after she was buried we probably went almost every day. Gradually we started going less, but still a few times a month. Now we just go when we need to feel close to her. Usually once a month, sometimes more, sometimes less. We always try to make it out on special holidays like mothers and fathers day, near Christmas, and of course her birthday, we always do a balloon release. It's literally a 5 minute drive from our house, so I love that I can just go whenever I need to. And now that Emily has a general idea that she has a sister and that we go there to visit her, I like to take her. She even asks to go if we drive nearby. Like last week, we were going to the grocery store and we had to drive by the cemetery and Emily said "Keya"! I asked, do you want to go see Keya and she said yeah.
I don't know how Emily will feel about her sister as she gets older...if she will feel sad about it, or just accept it since she never got to meet her....but I like that we're so close to the cemetery that she could walk or ride her bike there anytime she wants to go, if she decided she likes spending time there alone.
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I have to write about some accomplishments that I've noticed in Emily lately. It's really fun to see how much she changes over such a short period of time. I've written about how she gets up on the big potty by herself now, I just have to unlock the lid, but I am thinking about just taking that off. We'll see. But just a couple months ago I always had to help her get her pants and underwear down, and now she does it all by herself. Even if she has a diaper on like she just woke up from nap, she can get that off too.
She can mostly dress herself, she has a little troubles with shirts, she often tries putting her arms through the head hole, and she has troubles getting them off. But she can put her socks and shoes on, her pants and underwear and some jackets. Tonight I took her downstairs with me while I walked on the treadmill. When we went back upstairs, she counted each step, 1-10 as we went up. Well, she missed #4, but still I think that's really good for a 2.5 year old. Now if I could just get her potty trained at night, and get her to go potty on commercial toilets. Over the weekend I must have taken her to the potty 6-8 times while we were out and about and she'd sit there for a few seconds and then cry and want to get off, even though I was holding her.
I think partly, she says she has to potty when she is bored, or in a situation she doesn't like. But I think part of it is also the big potties scare her. I have that little travel seat, but I haven't been carrying the diaper bag lately, and I am loving the freedom of not bringing it with me every where (I do keep it in the car) and her seat doesn't fit in my little purse. So I guess I need to get a slightly bigger purse to fit her seat, but not so big that I am tempted to stuff it with things and make it into another diaper bag.
I know some people are not, they do not feel a connection, but I am definitely a "cemetery person". With my mom, my grandparents and now Kayla, going to visit their grave, taking them flowers, bringing little decorations like spinners, or cute things for holidays always makes me feel close to them. I remember when my mom was first buried, the mound of dirt over her grave freaked me out. I didn't know they did that (had never really visited anyone's grave before that and definitely not fresh graves). It creeped me, it felt like her body was in that mound. But then one day I went after about a month or two and the mound was gone. And THAT made me sad. I had grown accustomed to it, and it felt like there was a physical presence of her and it was now gone.
But, I eventually grew used to that as well. Kayla's grave didn't have the mound since it was such a small grave and it isn't very deep. I've had several issues with her cemetery, but the immediate area around her grave is very beautiful. She's near a nice big tree, and just about ten yards away are the mausoleums sponsored by the hospital she was born at, so I feel a comforted with her being surrounded by other kids, in a special place just for the smallest angels. We very rarely come across anyone else when we go, so we have a lot of privacy and peace. Though I know others go because the graves are all decorated as well.
That first week after she was buried we probably went almost every day. Gradually we started going less, but still a few times a month. Now we just go when we need to feel close to her. Usually once a month, sometimes more, sometimes less. We always try to make it out on special holidays like mothers and fathers day, near Christmas, and of course her birthday, we always do a balloon release. It's literally a 5 minute drive from our house, so I love that I can just go whenever I need to. And now that Emily has a general idea that she has a sister and that we go there to visit her, I like to take her. She even asks to go if we drive nearby. Like last week, we were going to the grocery store and we had to drive by the cemetery and Emily said "Keya"! I asked, do you want to go see Keya and she said yeah.
I don't know how Emily will feel about her sister as she gets older...if she will feel sad about it, or just accept it since she never got to meet her....but I like that we're so close to the cemetery that she could walk or ride her bike there anytime she wants to go, if she decided she likes spending time there alone.
*********************************************************************************
I have to write about some accomplishments that I've noticed in Emily lately. It's really fun to see how much she changes over such a short period of time. I've written about how she gets up on the big potty by herself now, I just have to unlock the lid, but I am thinking about just taking that off. We'll see. But just a couple months ago I always had to help her get her pants and underwear down, and now she does it all by herself. Even if she has a diaper on like she just woke up from nap, she can get that off too.
She can mostly dress herself, she has a little troubles with shirts, she often tries putting her arms through the head hole, and she has troubles getting them off. But she can put her socks and shoes on, her pants and underwear and some jackets. Tonight I took her downstairs with me while I walked on the treadmill. When we went back upstairs, she counted each step, 1-10 as we went up. Well, she missed #4, but still I think that's really good for a 2.5 year old. Now if I could just get her potty trained at night, and get her to go potty on commercial toilets. Over the weekend I must have taken her to the potty 6-8 times while we were out and about and she'd sit there for a few seconds and then cry and want to get off, even though I was holding her.
I think partly, she says she has to potty when she is bored, or in a situation she doesn't like. But I think part of it is also the big potties scare her. I have that little travel seat, but I haven't been carrying the diaper bag lately, and I am loving the freedom of not bringing it with me every where (I do keep it in the car) and her seat doesn't fit in my little purse. So I guess I need to get a slightly bigger purse to fit her seat, but not so big that I am tempted to stuff it with things and make it into another diaper bag.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Capture your grief, day 16
16. FULL MOON RETREAT | We are now half way through our Capture Your Grief experience so I wanted to take some time to retreat a little and give everyone some rest from all the thoughts and feels. This evening there is going to be a beautiful full moon rising. Google the time that it rises in your city and take some quiet time out to watch it. Share a photo of the moon rising in your part of the world and make sure you share where you watch it from. Today take regular moments out to stop what you are doing and turn your attention to your breathing. Place one hand over your belly and the other over your heart. Close your eyes, breathe deeply as you feel your own heartbeat. I will be hosting a live guided meditation on facebook and everyone is welcome to join in. I will post the time of the meditation closer to the day.
I just now read tonight's topic, so I didn't get a chance to get out and see the moon. But oddly enough I did take a picture of it last night, because my husband came home and told me how beautiful the moon looked. So here is the picture I took.
I just now read tonight's topic, so I didn't get a chance to get out and see the moon. But oddly enough I did take a picture of it last night, because my husband came home and told me how beautiful the moon looked. So here is the picture I took.
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