August 2012 Moms

I wanted to share this. Very long and warning that it is about coping with a loss

I wanted to share this from my cousin's blog.  I copied her writing here because I wasn't sure if The Bump allows links to blogs.  My cousin said to share this with other moms.  I thought what she wrote was beautiful and I wanted to share it with you.  It is religious heavy just so you know.

 

It was four years ago today that he was due to enter this life, my life, and all that I could give him.

But when that January day came, all that was mine to embrace were memories of a sunny, otherwise perfect August day when everything went horribly, horribly wrong.  He vanished into the open arms of heaven and I was left without a trace of proof that it was not just some cruel dream that I had inadvertently stumbled upon.

I do remember, and I do know to be true the warm hand of a wonderful doctor who squeezed my arm and told me she would take care of me and I would be alright.  I do remember the peaceful presence of just the right parishoner who shared the sacred space of the hospital room as we free fell out of the shock.  I remember the Olympics beach volleyball being on the TV suspended from the wall, as if somewhere, in another world, sport mattered at all.

Most of all, I can recall laying on a gurney, lost in the labyrinth of an OR corridor on a deserted Sunday afternoon.  My faith felt as thin as the cotton gown that struggled to cover my still tremoring body and what was left of my dignity and pride.  I made a deal with God.  I said I would endure this, but that someday, somewhere, somehow, He would have to use this redemptively in my life.

It is not necessarily true that time heals all wounds, and there is always more darkness before the dawn.  As a writer, I did use my words in a protected setting to pour out all of the rawness and purge the infected lacerations that covered my soul.  God was gracious, and did give me puddles of grace in a desert of pain.  But it was, and has been, a long road to healing.  When the cuts heal over and you are left with a scarred body, you have to learn to live with the "new you".  You have to learn to love yourself again and see the beauty in the courage that lies behind your battle marks.

For me the biggest challenge was to wake up two and a half years into the healing process, and realize that I was no longer grieving a baby but something else.  In the meantime, I had born another precious daughter, and while I reveled in this grace, I still had none for myself.  I wasn't mourning for a lost child, I was mourning for me.  I can only share the truth of my story, and cannot speak for others who have suffered this, but this singular event of being unsuccessful in carrying a child had the power to complete replace the lens through which I viewed the world and my place in it.  Every negative thing, and even some of the positive things which happened where overshadowed by my feelings that I was a failure and that I was worth abandoning.

When I repeatedly hid from my life by collapsing into the sound and steam of a running shower, I knew I had hit rock bottom and needed to let God do His thing.  I needed to fully surrender the mystery of what I could not understand.  I needed to get on my knees at an altar, at the place where this horrific event unfolded and call out the lies shaping me and shaking me.  I needed to be free.  I needed to say to the powers of both darkness and light that "this will not define me anymore."  Sometimes, the truth is just sitting there waiting to be spoken, so that it can be made known.

I share all this in the hopes that it somewhere, somehow will strike a chord with someone who has unfortunately shared this journey, or also to give perspective to those who have family members and friends who have dealt with this and aren't sure what they should do about it.  One of the worst things was hearing people say, "Oh so and so went through this, but they weren't sure if they should talk to you about it."  Ummm..yes!  If we as women (and men) have known this, we should share it.  I have talked to other women who have gone through miscarriages and stillbirths, and the conversation is usually prefaced or concluded with the lament that "this is just something we women aren't very good at talking to each other about."  I can only speculate as to why this might be, but I think we are afraid of the differences in our grieving process.  For me, it was always, "why is this affecting me so much?  Shouldn't I be over it by now?"  For others it might be, "I'm over this, was it too easy of a process?  Is there something wrong?  Should I feel more?".  We need to respect the differences in our grieving process, but we should also not be afraid of them.  Or our tears.  Or our feelings of failure.

For those who have not personally experienced it, and aren't sure what to do with those who have, I can only share my thoughts from my encounter.  What I say is not prescriptive for everyone, but it might shed some light on the situation. 

What I can say is that I didn't need words.  My family, friends, and congregation were very good about not feeling the need to comfort me with grossly inadequate words and Christianese inspiration.  The ones who did speak words were the ones who had walked this road before me and had the credibility to do so.  But I did need hugs.  I did need that acknowledgement that yes, there was a life that had been, even if it was all potential and never fulfilled by breath.  The problem with miscarriage especially is that you have no tangible evidence of a life.  The best thing anyone ever did for me in my journey was my mother in law.  The first Christmas after the event, she gave me a beautiful clamshell ornament that said "every life leaves something beautiful behind."  For years, I've been struggling with how to give a physical space to mark my child's existence- planting a tree, getting an angel statue, even getting a tattoo?  This week, I realized the answer was right in front of me.  Instead of just admiring this ornament at Christmas on my tree, I would handcraft a stand so I could have it in view all year around.  Perfect.
Something beautiful was left behind in my life.  It was not something I would choose to go through, but I know I am the better now for it.  I learned a very hard way the need to have the grace for myself that God has for me.  I learned the need to trust the mystery.  I've fine tuned looking for the healing hand of God in small places and pieces.  I can honestly say "I know" when a parishoner or a friend or a family member needs to cry on my shoulder, now or years from now.  A while ago I heard a quip that "God comforts us, so we can comfort others."  And that is sometimes a painful, but necessary directive. 

And for those who are looking to be a friend to someone in this situation, I know it's hard.  I have friends and family navigating other health issues and struggles and I wish I had someone to tell me what I need to do to be there for them in their special need.  I know, whatever the condition, that there is no one formula that will help in all situations.  What did I need?  Acknowledgement (and sometimes continuing acknowledgement) of what happened, grace and space to find my way through it, and the small things that we all can do to comfort someone in grief to let them know we care and value them, and value the life that they have lost- cards simply signed, flowers, dinner, hugs, and prayers.  Lots of prayers.
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Re: I wanted to share this. Very long and warning that it is about coping with a loss

  • Something beautiful was left behind in my life.  It was not something I would choose to go through, but I know I am the better now for it.  I learned a very hard way the need to have the grace for myself that God has for me.  I learned the need to trust the mystery.  I've fine tuned looking for the healing hand of God in small places and pieces.  I can honestly say "I know" when a parishoner or a friend or a family member needs to cry on my shoulder, now or years from now.  A while ago I heard a quip that "God comforts us, so we can comfort others."  And that is sometimes a painful, but necessary directive. 

    And for those who are looking to be a friend to someone in this situation, I know it's hard.  I have friends and family navigating other health issues and struggles and I wish I had someone to tell me what I need to do to be there for them in their special need.  I know, whatever the condition, that there is no one formula that will help in all situations.  What did I need?  Acknowledgement (and sometimes continuing acknowledgement) of what happened, grace and space to find my way through it, and the small things that we all can do to comfort someone in grief to let them know we care and value them, and value the life that they have lost- cards simply signed, flowers, dinner, hugs, and prayers.  Lots of prayers.
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  • ok, Never mind, I can't get this to work, sorry.
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  • Beautiful.  I can very much relate to that.  Losing a baby at 5 wks, 13 wks, 20 wks, or any time is not easy in the least  It messes with you and your innocent view on such a beautiful thing.  But thank God for his love and grace that get us through every day.  Thanks for sharing!! 

                Mom of 2 monkeys and 1 on the way!
           Christian12/06, Liam 08/12, Monkey #3 10/10 

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  • Thank you for sharing this.

    This past week a girl in my office, my maternity leave temp, had the 1 year anniversary to her daughters birthday who had died of a brain bleed a week after birth. She was the strongest person I have ever met in my life. Not only did she sign up to work a mat leave not even 5 months after this happened to her, she watched me grow daily and now see Landen all the time.

    I wanted so badly to do something for her that let her know I was there, but I was so scared to remind her of the past. I would love to share this with her and let her know I am always here for her, even though I may not always have the right words to say. Do you have a link to her blog?

  • Thank you for sharing. Someone I know gave birth to her stillborn baby boy just last week. I cannot imagine.
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  • Thank you so much for sharing. I can't imagine and it's always important to take into account how incredibly blessed we are. I wish her nothing but strength and good things as she moves forward.
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  • We have an August mama who had a late loss (LoveofMikesLife) and my heart breaks for her anytime I hear about any baby that was unfortunately taken from this world far too early.

    This is such a terrible, terrible thing to have to deal with and I just cannot imagine. We truly are lucky to have or LOs and all need to remember that through all of the crying, holding while rocking, and lack of time for anything non-baby related, that we all are extremely lucky.

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  • That was so incredibly beautiful. After my first miscarriage I found the bump and TTCAL. They talked me off a ledge so many times and I am forever grateful. Your cousin is incredibly brave and so strong. 
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