I know I've brought this up before but it was so soon after losing Xander that I think I need to go at it again....now that I'm far from that angry stage.
What not to say after a parent has suffered a stillborn.
1) You will be a good mom/dad SOME day.
--I don't know why, but this one always pops to the front of my mind. It's an insult. As a woman, a mother, I have just birthed a baby but I'm not a mom? I may not be a PARENT but I am still a mom and my husband is definitely a father. This one most often applies to moms and dads whose first baby is stillborn and therefore they aren't considered a mom or dad because they have no other children besides the one that has passed.
2) It was for the best.
--A baby dying is never for the best. Regardless of whether or not a baby was "planned" or not planned, it's never for the best. The death of a baby seems like a cruel joke. An innocent life, literally innocent, never even took a breath outside....it's just cruel.
3) It was God's plan.
--God or no God, to think a baby's death was a plan? C'mon now. That doesn't even make sense.
4) I know how you feel, my dog/bunny/cat died.
--Uhhh yeah. Seriously, people have said this. I don't even think it needs an explanation.
5) I know how you feel, I had an abortion.
--This is just as bad as comparing it to a family pet's death. Medical reasons or not...an abortion is not the same as giving birth to death.
6) I know how you feel......blah blah blah.
--Unless your "I know how you feel" is followed by "my son/daughter was also stillborn" then no, you don't know how I feel.
What to say to someone who has suffered a stillborn.
1) I'm sorry.
--You can never go wrong with this.
2) What did you name him/her?
--You will never believe how important it is to hear others say our baby's names out loud and refer to them as the people they were.
3) What time can I come over? I'd like to clean/cook/bring food/take out your garbage.
--Mundane tasks are the hardest to get done. Moving an inch feels like running a mile. Grief takes a toll on you physically. Don't let them get away with telling you they don't need help. They may not realize it but it's a huge sigh of relief to have someone take care of things for you.
4) This isn't something to say, but what to do.
--Don't stop calling them. Leave voice-mails and send text messages and e-mails to let them know you are still thinking of them....days, weeks, months and years later. Even if they don't answer them, they will read them.
Losing an infant is devastating. Many times people mean well but over think things that come out wrong. Don't over think it. Keep it simple. Remember, when you lose your baby you lose a life time of dreams. These parents have most likely held their babies and named them and taken pictures of them. These are the only memories they will ever have. Be there for them. Don't just be there the first days or weeks. Be there for them forever. The memories will never leave. We love hearing our baby's names and knowing that people recognize them for what they were, people. Just listen. You don't have to say a thing.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Life Before Loss
Let me preface this by saying I do not regret having my sons. But....
I miss my life before them. It's not about going out and acting my age or whatever. It's about missing being naive. And care free. I miss not having to explain to people that I have other sons, that this is not my first pregnancy but no, I do not have any kids at home. I miss having a job. I've been unemployed since starting bed rest with Xander on November 1st 2010. I miss meeting new people and not being afraid to do so. I miss not having to answer awkward questions. I miss not having to bite my tongue then feeling guilty when I do. I miss not having to wonder if I should even try explaining Xander to people. Do you realize how many people don't really understand what a stillbirth is? I miss my friends and when they used to treat me like a normal person. Not someone who gets easily offended or over sensitive. I miss not knowing the meaning of progesterone deficiency and blood clotting issues and what Lovenox and baby aspirin are and how they can help a baby survive pregnancy. I miss not knowing the stillbirth, miscarriage and infant loss statistics. I miss thinking that losses most commonly occur in the first trimester and thinking that anything after was completely rare. I miss thinking that a pregnancy ended at 40 weeks. I miss not having 24 weeks as a goal, because that's when a baby is at the "viability" stage and doctors will try to help the baby to survive outside of the womb. I miss not knowing what a NICU is and what it stands for. I miss not anticipating NICU bills. I miss my old life.
Part of me did die on January 13th 2011 with Xander. My innocence. My patience and tolerance. I feel like everyone should know what I know. But that's not realistic and NO ONE should know what I know....because I know the truth. I know it isn't rare. I know it can happen to anyone. I know that just because someone experienced the same thing as me that doesn't mean I will have the same outcome. I know not all things resolve on their own. I know that they can grow and take a life. I know that labor can start at any moment and mother's won't feel it happening.
I hate knowing what I know. I hate living in fear. I hate seeing the negative side of things and never believing anything positive will happen. Why should it?
I miss my life before them. It's not about going out and acting my age or whatever. It's about missing being naive. And care free. I miss not having to explain to people that I have other sons, that this is not my first pregnancy but no, I do not have any kids at home. I miss having a job. I've been unemployed since starting bed rest with Xander on November 1st 2010. I miss meeting new people and not being afraid to do so. I miss not having to answer awkward questions. I miss not having to bite my tongue then feeling guilty when I do. I miss not having to wonder if I should even try explaining Xander to people. Do you realize how many people don't really understand what a stillbirth is? I miss my friends and when they used to treat me like a normal person. Not someone who gets easily offended or over sensitive. I miss not knowing the meaning of progesterone deficiency and blood clotting issues and what Lovenox and baby aspirin are and how they can help a baby survive pregnancy. I miss not knowing the stillbirth, miscarriage and infant loss statistics. I miss thinking that losses most commonly occur in the first trimester and thinking that anything after was completely rare. I miss thinking that a pregnancy ended at 40 weeks. I miss not having 24 weeks as a goal, because that's when a baby is at the "viability" stage and doctors will try to help the baby to survive outside of the womb. I miss not knowing what a NICU is and what it stands for. I miss not anticipating NICU bills. I miss my old life.
Part of me did die on January 13th 2011 with Xander. My innocence. My patience and tolerance. I feel like everyone should know what I know. But that's not realistic and NO ONE should know what I know....because I know the truth. I know it isn't rare. I know it can happen to anyone. I know that just because someone experienced the same thing as me that doesn't mean I will have the same outcome. I know not all things resolve on their own. I know that they can grow and take a life. I know that labor can start at any moment and mother's won't feel it happening.
I hate knowing what I know. I hate living in fear. I hate seeing the negative side of things and never believing anything positive will happen. Why should it?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving
Turkeys, family, food coma and a parade. Pretty much summarizes my definition of Thanksgiving. Or at least it used to be my definition of Thanksgiving. Now it's pot roast, incomplete family, food coma and a parade. Growing up I hated the end of the year. I loved the breaks we got from school but hated leaving behind the memories I had gained throughout. Now? I can't wait for this year to be over and Thanksgiving is a reminder of how close we are to bringing in a new year.
Last year I was pregnant with Xander on Thanksgiving. Rob stayed home with me since I was on bed rest. I don't remember what we ate but remember my dad bringing over left overs then I threw it all up since I was still sick. I was about 14 weeks pregnant with him. I still believed he would come home with us. No doubt about it. I was starting to get used to the idea of bed rest but definitely getting antsy. Then in January we lost him.
I remember Thanksgiving last year telling everyone all of the great things I had planned for Xander. "This time next year he will be 6 months old and...."
Nope. Instead it's been 10 months and 10 days since he died. Then in April we got pregnant again. Then I started saying "by Thanksgiving I will be 36 weeks pregnant!" Nope. That dream ended by May. Now? I am 17 weeks 3 days pregnant. I keep myself from thinking ahead. I don't say what I will be doing next year. I keep it to myself. I hope and pray to God every single day that he will finally bless me with a baby to celebrate with. To hold in my arms and sing to....even if I'm horrible at singing. I want a baby to read Christmas time stories to and to tuck in before bed.
My heart is broken this Thanksgiving. I still think of my boys every day. Especially the one in my belly. I just want him to come home with us in April. That's all I want.
Last year I was pregnant with Xander on Thanksgiving. Rob stayed home with me since I was on bed rest. I don't remember what we ate but remember my dad bringing over left overs then I threw it all up since I was still sick. I was about 14 weeks pregnant with him. I still believed he would come home with us. No doubt about it. I was starting to get used to the idea of bed rest but definitely getting antsy. Then in January we lost him.
I remember Thanksgiving last year telling everyone all of the great things I had planned for Xander. "This time next year he will be 6 months old and...."
Nope. Instead it's been 10 months and 10 days since he died. Then in April we got pregnant again. Then I started saying "by Thanksgiving I will be 36 weeks pregnant!" Nope. That dream ended by May. Now? I am 17 weeks 3 days pregnant. I keep myself from thinking ahead. I don't say what I will be doing next year. I keep it to myself. I hope and pray to God every single day that he will finally bless me with a baby to celebrate with. To hold in my arms and sing to....even if I'm horrible at singing. I want a baby to read Christmas time stories to and to tuck in before bed.
My heart is broken this Thanksgiving. I still think of my boys every day. Especially the one in my belly. I just want him to come home with us in April. That's all I want.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
The Future
I haven't posted about this on my blog yet...but I'm pregnant. I will be sixteen weeks tomorrow. I am due on April 29th 2012. It's so bittersweet being pregnant again. Everything has been 100% perfect but I'm still scared. I will be scared until the day this baby boy comes out screaming. I think about the day I will give birth to this little boy and my memories of my one and only other birth experience pop in my head.
A quiet delivery room. Everyone being afraid to say something. My legs being numbed by an epidural and having to ask for help to lift them then being told to push. But I didn't know how. I had to ask. It wasn't a ton of nurses by my side telling me to breathe and people taking pictures and encouraging me. It was me being told how to do it and me pushing too fast because I wanted to get it over with. Then not knowing that he had made it out. No scream. No "it's a boy!" Rob wasn't standing by waiting to cut the cord. I asked him if he wanted to and he did. I remember keeping my eyes closed the entire time and then opening them just to stare at the ceiling while the doctor felt to make sure everything came out. Then him showing me the torn placenta....the piece of shit that took Xander's life. The clots. Being told I didn't tear. Obviously, he was only 10 1/4 inches long and weighed in at 15.6 oz. Then being handed my son. My son with his eyes fused shut still. I didn't know what to think. He didn't look like what I expected. He looked normal. He had all 10 fingers and 10 toes. A nose. Two eyes. Lips. Two ears. Fingernails. And even a little hair.
But what about this time? I still don't know what to expect because I only know what birth is like being almost 22 weeks along. I imagine it will hurt more. I imagine there will be more encouraging words. I imagine crying happy tears. I imagine FINALLY hearing the sweet sound of the first cries. I imagine everyone saying "it's a boy!" By the way, why do they say that if you already know? I imagine he will have all 10 toes and 10 fingers. Two eyes. Two ears. A nose. Lips. This time I will get to see the color of his eyes. And see him wiggle. Can I handle that? All I know is death. Will he come out alive? Will he look like Xander? My questions about giving birth probably sound so weird compared to women who haven't had losses. I don't care if I tear. I don't care if I accidently go #2. I don't care about getting an epidural, although I'd prefer one. All I care about is having a baby that comes out screaming. That's all I want. Oh and to be able to take this baby home and watch him grow up.
A quiet delivery room. Everyone being afraid to say something. My legs being numbed by an epidural and having to ask for help to lift them then being told to push. But I didn't know how. I had to ask. It wasn't a ton of nurses by my side telling me to breathe and people taking pictures and encouraging me. It was me being told how to do it and me pushing too fast because I wanted to get it over with. Then not knowing that he had made it out. No scream. No "it's a boy!" Rob wasn't standing by waiting to cut the cord. I asked him if he wanted to and he did. I remember keeping my eyes closed the entire time and then opening them just to stare at the ceiling while the doctor felt to make sure everything came out. Then him showing me the torn placenta....the piece of shit that took Xander's life. The clots. Being told I didn't tear. Obviously, he was only 10 1/4 inches long and weighed in at 15.6 oz. Then being handed my son. My son with his eyes fused shut still. I didn't know what to think. He didn't look like what I expected. He looked normal. He had all 10 fingers and 10 toes. A nose. Two eyes. Lips. Two ears. Fingernails. And even a little hair.
But what about this time? I still don't know what to expect because I only know what birth is like being almost 22 weeks along. I imagine it will hurt more. I imagine there will be more encouraging words. I imagine crying happy tears. I imagine FINALLY hearing the sweet sound of the first cries. I imagine everyone saying "it's a boy!" By the way, why do they say that if you already know? I imagine he will have all 10 toes and 10 fingers. Two eyes. Two ears. A nose. Lips. This time I will get to see the color of his eyes. And see him wiggle. Can I handle that? All I know is death. Will he come out alive? Will he look like Xander? My questions about giving birth probably sound so weird compared to women who haven't had losses. I don't care if I tear. I don't care if I accidently go #2. I don't care about getting an epidural, although I'd prefer one. All I care about is having a baby that comes out screaming. That's all I want. Oh and to be able to take this baby home and watch him grow up.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
My Friends
One gift that Xander gave me, was finding new friends.
My friends live all over the country and some even in Canada. How do I know these women?
Losing Xander, I turned to a site that I had been visiting while on bed rest. They also have grief support groups. Trust me, I was never one for finding online friends or considering someone I've only "typed" to a friend but these women know me better than friends I've had for years and years. We all have one thing in common....we've had a baby(or babies) die. We all feel the pain and pure heart ache daily. We've all endured the rude and insensitive comments, the crying over Pampers commercials and the (maybe irrational, but normal) bitterness towards women who have never suffered a loss and get to live in ignorance. We discuss memories and what could have been and our futures. Our futures of having another chance, another try with the little hope we hang on too. We lift each other up and we virtually send hugs. We understand each other. We are real. We don't say "it will get better" or "get over it". We say, "I understand" "I wish the pain would go away" or just a simple "I'm sorry". We don't dwell in our grief though. We don't sit around and feel sorry for ourselves...at least not all the time.
We laugh, we tell stories and dream of a day when we can all sit on a beach and have drinks together. And maybe one day we can all have a play date with our future babies. Our rainbows. We recommend movies and books and encourage each other in positive ways. We send flowers and teddy bears when a Mom is in need of something tangible, not just a "I'm sorry". We also talk about things that may not be deemed lady like. Haha. We check in on each other and talk to each other daily. We offer support in every day decisions.
Without these women I don't know where I'd be. Probably locked in my room in Colorado. (Oh btw, I moved to Memphis.) I'd probably gone almost a year without showering. Okay, maybe not that long but you get it. I would not have been able to take baby steps in healing. I wouldn't have had the courage to go to a real support group.
Basically, I wouldn't be where I am today without them. I'm just pissed we all live so far away from each other lol. Seriously though....I consider them my best friends.
Thank God for our babies for bringing us together.
My friends live all over the country and some even in Canada. How do I know these women?
Losing Xander, I turned to a site that I had been visiting while on bed rest. They also have grief support groups. Trust me, I was never one for finding online friends or considering someone I've only "typed" to a friend but these women know me better than friends I've had for years and years. We all have one thing in common....we've had a baby(or babies) die. We all feel the pain and pure heart ache daily. We've all endured the rude and insensitive comments, the crying over Pampers commercials and the (maybe irrational, but normal) bitterness towards women who have never suffered a loss and get to live in ignorance. We discuss memories and what could have been and our futures. Our futures of having another chance, another try with the little hope we hang on too. We lift each other up and we virtually send hugs. We understand each other. We are real. We don't say "it will get better" or "get over it". We say, "I understand" "I wish the pain would go away" or just a simple "I'm sorry". We don't dwell in our grief though. We don't sit around and feel sorry for ourselves...at least not all the time.
We laugh, we tell stories and dream of a day when we can all sit on a beach and have drinks together. And maybe one day we can all have a play date with our future babies. Our rainbows. We recommend movies and books and encourage each other in positive ways. We send flowers and teddy bears when a Mom is in need of something tangible, not just a "I'm sorry". We also talk about things that may not be deemed lady like. Haha. We check in on each other and talk to each other daily. We offer support in every day decisions.
Without these women I don't know where I'd be. Probably locked in my room in Colorado. (Oh btw, I moved to Memphis.) I'd probably gone almost a year without showering. Okay, maybe not that long but you get it. I would not have been able to take baby steps in healing. I wouldn't have had the courage to go to a real support group.
Basically, I wouldn't be where I am today without them. I'm just pissed we all live so far away from each other lol. Seriously though....I consider them my best friends.
Thank God for our babies for bringing us together.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
When Your Husband Cuddles With a Teddy Bear
Some nights Rob cuddles with a teddy bear. Some people may find this strange so let me explain...
When Xander died we were given the choice of two teddy bears from the hospital. One was a medium size, over stuffed looking teddy bear and the other was smaller...thinner....and had a red heart stitched over it's chest. It was clear which one we wanted. The smaller one. The smaller one was, well is, the same size as Xander. About 10 inches long and weighs as light as a feather, probably just under a pound. When we first came home I found I didn't know what to do with the bear. Rob set it between our pillows on our bed and it soon had a name: Xander Bear. When I would cry Rob would hand me Xander Bear and I got instant relief. It temporarily healed my empty arm syndrome. I hold that bear and memories of holding Xander run through my head. And if I relax enough....I can smell Xander and remember the texture of his skin and the temperature of his body.
Rob and I haven't discussed what Xander Bear does to Rob, if it has the same effect on him but I imagine it does. Last night Rob was having a hard time sleeping and I placed Xander Bear in his arms and within minutes he fell asleep. It made me realize just how sad it is...that we have a bear to hold and not our son. Instead of taking pictures of Rob holding our infant son while sleeping, I think about taking pictures of Rob sleeping while holding a bear. It's the closest thing we have to Xander. Most wives love pictures of their husbands holding their baby while taking a nap and I will never have a picture of Rob holding Xander while they both take a nap.
I stayed awake the rest of the night crying. Crying for my husband. Crying about all of the things he is missing out on. I think as a woman sometimes I feel like it hurts me more because I carried Xander and I felt him kick and I was the one on bed rest for 10 weeks. But I should be thankful I got that much time with Xander. I got to feel him alive on a daily basis. Rob felt a few of Xander's kicks but not many. Rob only knew what Xander's attitude was by the ultrasounds we got and what I told him. I got to fall asleep every night while cuddling Xander. It may have been through my belly but....still.
I'll never forget the pride and joy in Rob's eyes as he finally got to hold Xander. We both silently examined him looking for physical similarities. It was clear Xander took after his Daddy. His face was like a mirrored image of Rob. He even had the same facial expression. It breaks my heart to think about the missing pictures of Xander and Rob together. Pictures of their first fishing trip, working on cars together, Rob teaching Xander how to play soccer...the father-son moments that we will forever imagine but never experience.
When Xander died we were given the choice of two teddy bears from the hospital. One was a medium size, over stuffed looking teddy bear and the other was smaller...thinner....and had a red heart stitched over it's chest. It was clear which one we wanted. The smaller one. The smaller one was, well is, the same size as Xander. About 10 inches long and weighs as light as a feather, probably just under a pound. When we first came home I found I didn't know what to do with the bear. Rob set it between our pillows on our bed and it soon had a name: Xander Bear. When I would cry Rob would hand me Xander Bear and I got instant relief. It temporarily healed my empty arm syndrome. I hold that bear and memories of holding Xander run through my head. And if I relax enough....I can smell Xander and remember the texture of his skin and the temperature of his body.
Rob and I haven't discussed what Xander Bear does to Rob, if it has the same effect on him but I imagine it does. Last night Rob was having a hard time sleeping and I placed Xander Bear in his arms and within minutes he fell asleep. It made me realize just how sad it is...that we have a bear to hold and not our son. Instead of taking pictures of Rob holding our infant son while sleeping, I think about taking pictures of Rob sleeping while holding a bear. It's the closest thing we have to Xander. Most wives love pictures of their husbands holding their baby while taking a nap and I will never have a picture of Rob holding Xander while they both take a nap.
I stayed awake the rest of the night crying. Crying for my husband. Crying about all of the things he is missing out on. I think as a woman sometimes I feel like it hurts me more because I carried Xander and I felt him kick and I was the one on bed rest for 10 weeks. But I should be thankful I got that much time with Xander. I got to feel him alive on a daily basis. Rob felt a few of Xander's kicks but not many. Rob only knew what Xander's attitude was by the ultrasounds we got and what I told him. I got to fall asleep every night while cuddling Xander. It may have been through my belly but....still.
I'll never forget the pride and joy in Rob's eyes as he finally got to hold Xander. We both silently examined him looking for physical similarities. It was clear Xander took after his Daddy. His face was like a mirrored image of Rob. He even had the same facial expression. It breaks my heart to think about the missing pictures of Xander and Rob together. Pictures of their first fishing trip, working on cars together, Rob teaching Xander how to play soccer...the father-son moments that we will forever imagine but never experience.
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