You are here: Home / 2013 / Archives for August 2013

Archives for August 2013

Our Abigail

August 29, 2013 by 1 Comment

Told by: Elizabeth 

My water broke on 7-15-13 at 10:30pm.  She was kicking her father as we talked to her about an hour after that but passed away sometime before midnight when my midwife arrived.  After 30 hours of aggressively induced labor, Abigail Elena Higareda was born on 7-17-13 at 4:46 am, weighing 9lbs 8oz and 23 inches long.

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: 42 weeks, Home /Out-of-Hospital/ Loss

Gramma Stays with Him

August 27, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Told by: LeRyan

We lost our son, Jarrit Dewayne Green, Jr., 4 weeks ago tonight at this very moment, ironically, 9:54 p.m. on Friday, July 26, 2013. I was 16 weeks and 5 days into my pregnancy and we thought we were safe. My long term boyfriend and I found out I was pregnant on May 2, 2013 – date of conception only having been April 15, 2013. We announced my pregnancy to my 80 year old Gramma who lived with us the morning of Mother’s Day the next weekend and she was surprisingly happy and supportive. I had just started my own company and financially we were not prepared. Two weeks later, my Gramma, who was amazingly active and healthy up until then, was admitted into the hospital and was diagnosed with cardiac amyloidosis the next week. We were given 6-12 months for her to live. This in its own right was shocking and devastating because my grandmother was my best friend, my soulmate, my Gramma, my mom, my everything. But, the only time I saw her emotional about dying at the hospital is when we’d ask the doctors if she’d be able to hold on for the baby. She came home on June 6, 2013 on home hospice care during which time I was the only caretaker around the clock. It was the most stressful, exhausting, draining experience in my life. On top of that, I was in my first trimester with an unplanned baby and nauseous 24/7. The smells and lack of sleep got to me horribly. There could not have been a worse time to be pregnant. I intentionally refrained from being excited about the pregnancy because I did not know how a baby would survive the environment which I repeatedly told my closest friends. I had even told a good friend of mine around 8 weeks that it would be a blessing to have a miscarriage. These words will haunt me now forever.
At week 12, I had my First Screen and saw my son moving around and looking beautifully human. They already could tell he was a boy, he was perfectly healthy, and even though I tried not to, I started becoming attached. My boyfriend started lighting cigars and telling everyone he was having a son. A few days later, my OB had a hard time finding his heart beat since he was so deep so I got another sonogram and he was again so beautiful, full of personality already, and he was healthy. Everything was fine. At 14 weeks, I began have some spotting and cramping. I again had a sonogram and every test under the moon. They could not find anything wrong and he and I both appeared perfectly healthy. I finally publicly announced my pregnancy, chose a date for my baby shower, picked out blue and brown elephants (to later come to be so much more meaningful – as I learned from my perinatal loss booklet & subsequent research how emotional, loving animals they are and how they are lead by the grandmother and mourn deeply for her and their babies) as our baby theme, and started debating names with his father. On July 24, 2013, I had a follow up appointment where everything seemed fine except my OB was concerned that I was not gaining weight the way she wanted. She assured me that the stress of hospice caretaking was not affecting the pregnancy.
At that point, my Gramma who had deteriorated dramatically over the weeks got a boost of strength and energy and was up about every single hour wanting to eat or be active and was actually getting out of bed for the first time in a long time. She was in complete denial that she was dying and was trying to darndest to hold on. Unfortunately, this boost ended the night of July 25, 2013 where she suddenly and for the first time started experiencing pain and was wholly disabled to the point she could not even sit up on her own or reposition herself at all in her bed. I had to start administering morphine early morning of July 26, 2013 around 4 am. Around 3:00pm., my grandmother woke in pain yet again. As I was caring for her and trying to maneuver her, she told me not to move her because of the baby. I didn’t listen and gave her a tiny bit of morphine for her pain and went back in the living room to escape. I was eating Nerds candy and joked that maybe eating them would make the baby smarter. About 10 minutes later, I began feeling discomfort but thought maybe just stretching pains or the like. I was not bleeding or anything, but after about 45 minutes of thinking I was just constipated but not have a b.m. and the pain increasing, I called the on-call doctor who instructed me to come to the hospital. I waited for my friend to come get me and while I waited, crying and moaning because the pain had increased so much, I sat in the dining room where I could view my gramma in her room. I looked into her room and just saw her moving her head to the left and right – she should have been knocked out from the morphine but I am now convinced she heard me. My boyfriend moved me back into the living room so my Gramma could not hear me and once my friend arrived, I yelled out at my boyfriend to take care of Gramma until someone came to relieve him so he could get to the hospital.
As soon as I got to the hospital, the doctor determined that I was already 10 cm – which was later determined hours later not true by way of an ultrasound still showing my son healthy and myself only having dilated a couple centimeters. My friend called the hospice nurse for me to make arrangements for them to get my Gramma for the night and within a few hours, my son’s Godmothers were both at the hospital along with my brother who had brought my boyfriend to the hospital. Around 8pm, the physician, realizing I was not yet dilated so far and realizing the baby was still healthy, placed my body headside, upside down in a last attempt to save the baby and to stop my labor and contractions. The entire time, I kept telling everyone to make sure no one told my Gramma what was going on because I didn’t want her to worry or think it was at all her fault.  After hours of labor and contractions, my son was born at 9:54 p.m. They gave him to me shortly after and he was absolutely beautiful. He already looked exactly like his father with his nose, mouth, and size – his father is 6’4″ tall and around 250 lbs. My son was already 5.3 ounces, 19.5 cm’s long, and had large hands and feet with all 20 fingers and toes with nails already. I could not look at him enough and they let me keep him until I was ready to let him go which was not until the next evening. The moment my body pushed him out, I felt the most heart wrenching, gutting grief I could ever have imagined. I knew I was more attached but didn’t know how deeply I already loved him. I also didn’t realize how much my boyfriend already loved him until he was himself throwing up with grief, still wanted to name him his Jr., and emotionally broke down Sunday morning after staying up and amazingly taking care of me the entire first night I was home.
Around 1:00am the night we lost our son, while laying next to him, I could not sleep and took a look at my phone which my friends had been using to correspond with my family throughout the evening. I learned from looking at the text messages that they had all been withholding from me that my Gramma had also passed while I was being rushed to the hospital earlier that afternoon. Turns out, her last words were telling me not to move her because of the baby. I think she heard me crying before taking off to the hospital and knew what was about to happen and so left to care for him or left and took him with her.
The physicians have no reason for my miscarriage – so far, no infection has been detected, my cervix was fine, the baby was perfect. They swear up and down caring for my Gramma did not cause it, although I still have my doubts about that and believe they may just be trying to console me. But regardless why, my life revolved around both of them and the Earth shattered beneath me. I still feel like it was all yesterday four weeks later and the grief for each of them together and individually is beyond understanding. But, I take some comfort in knowing that my Gramma is taking care of him for me and even think she may have taken him to have a part of me. She lived for me as much as I lived for her, but I loved her so much that I’m okay with her taking him from me although it doesn’t lesson any of the heartbreak. What most do not understand is that I did not lose just my Gramma, I lost my best friend and soulmate that night. What even more people don’t understand is that we did not lose a fetus, we lost our beautiful, perfect son that night.
[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]
Filed Under: 16 weeks

The Birth of a Miracle

August 18, 2013 by 2 Comments

Told by: Jessa

After two consecutive early pregnancy losses and weeks of hormones that left me feeling beyond icky, I waited what I thought would be the longest three weeks of my life. October 24, 2012 couldn’t have come soon enough. It was finally time to take the test…and when I did, my self discipline and patience was well rewarded…WE WERE EXPECTING!!!

I called my OB’s office right away and scheduled an appointment around our 8wk time frame. Because we had been testing for ovulation and to begin progesterone support, we knew exactly when conception occurred. We knew we’d be expecting our bundle of joy July 4, 2013. When we went in for that first ultrasound, however, our measurements were just a tad off and we were given an adjusted due date of July 10, 2013. This normally is no big deal, and certainly wasn’t to my doctor; but because I was SO sure of the exact day I ovulated and conceived, I questioned it. Could there be something wrong? I was met with reassurance that if there were something “majorly wrong” this early the pregnancy would have already met it’s demise. I openly accepted that our peanut was just a little small and excitedly began making the announcement. After both my previous losses part of me wanted to be guarded, part of me thought I should wait; but in my heart I just knew this was it. It’s hard to explain because I did have all the normal fears, yet I had almost a supernatural peace of mind about this pregnancy. About this baby. About my child.

The pregnancy was pretty smooth, although I did get the sickest with this pregnancy…more so than any other. I thought this was great, though! Could it mean this was a girl? At 16wks we decided we couldn’t wait to know. We made an appointment with Sneak A Peek Ultrasound to determine if “Baby A” would be Allison or Andrew. We packed up the boys, who were equally excited to know, and made the one hour drive to a nearby town for the appointment. There we met an amazing, kind, patient, Godly woman named Cindy. Little did we know, meeting her would provide us with some of out most treasured memories. We began to watch our baby on the big screen. When we got to the “between the legs” shot, though, Baby A was NOT cooperating. We actually went back twice more before finally getting a good shot at 19wks and learning that it was a GIRL! We went on a pink shopping spree immediately only to have a contradicting answer at my medical ultrasound just four days later. What did this mean?? Not even a week before we 100% had a girl, now we 100% had a boy. Luckily I had an appointment with my OB the next day and prayed she could clear it up. She agreed to take a quick look and we became even more confused than before. If the baby was a girl, she was very “swollen” but could be developing normally. If it was a boy, something wasn’t normal. However, she wasn’t too concerned because everything else seemed fine, so if it were something it wasn’t major. I tried my hardest to just accept that and be thankful that we still had a healthy baby, but not knowing what all was or could be going on was killing me. Since she leaned towards it being a girl possibly just reacting to my hormones, we decided to accept that. We started calling her Allie.

I went the next 8 weeks with a, once again, uneventful, normal pregnancy. But at my 28wk appointment my blood pressure had skyrocketed. My OB sent me for labs and for a fetal growth/amniotic fluid level ultrasound. Fearing that my high BP may be effecting my placenta and ultimately the baby, she just wanted to check. The results would change EVERYTHING. Our Allie was measuring only about half a pound behind, but her abdomen was 2 full weeks behind and the cephalic index(size of her head) was not normal. We were immediately referred to a perinatologist at a larger hospital to get to the bottom of her growth problems.

Upon checking in, I noticed our referral form listed “asymmetrical intrauterine growth restriction and ambiguous genitalia” as our reasons for being there. We quickly learned, though, that these were two of the least of our problems. It seemed as if the doctor was giving a dissertation as he went down the laundry list of all that he saw wrong during our ultrasound. “The heart is way too far to the right of the chest. This is not normal lung tissue and appears the same as the intestinal tissue, yes, that is intestine in the chest. Severe diaphragmatic hernia. The kidneys appear ok, but I don’t see a stomach at all. Something doesn’t look right with the heart, yes, the aorta is going into the wrong side. Major heart defect there. And the cerebellum is not developing properly, please note bifid cerebellum. Do you see hands? The hands and forearms are not normal, appears to be missing at least one bone in the forearm. Definitely abnormal genitalia. Possibly chromosomal abnormalities could explain.” I COULDN’T KEEP UP!! My mind was spinning and I’m sure I only heard 80% of what was actually said. What did this mean…and what was I supposed to do? After the ultrasound, he immediately performed an amniocentesis…and those three weeks I had waited to take a pregnancy test were NOTHING compared to the next 10 days.

Then it happened. At 6:04pm on May 15, 2013, my OB called with my results. Our Allie was actually a BOY…and tested positive for full Trisomy 18. The T18 was the reason for everything from the abnormal genitalia to the hernia and heart defect. Everything…and with the diagnosis came the four most abrasive words I’ve ever heard. “Not compatible with life.” I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breath. This wasn’t real. How? Why? What now?

I saw doctors A LOT for the next couple weeks. We did so much research. Intrauterine growth restriction, transposition of the great artery, congenital diaphragmatic hernia, bifid cerebellum, clenched fists, pulmonary hypoplasia, abnormal cephalic index, rocker bottom feet…these terms became the norm…but I hated using them. My baby wasn’t a diagnosis, he was my son. It was hard to keep everything in perspective. We began having conversations with our friends, family and even our 4 and 6 year old that we shouldn’t have to be having. We began making decisions we shouldn’t have to be making. We began making our birth plan. I had one goal…and it was to meet my son and look into his eyes. We had been told it was a miracle with the diagnosis and his specific defects he had made it this far and probably wouldn’t make it to delivery….but in my heart I knew better. I believed in our Andrew. My original OB agreed to deliver me at 37wks with a comfort care birth plan. I chose this because I knew with the odds against us my greatest chance of achieving a live birth would come with him coming sooner rather than later. The date was set. We would celebrate Andrew’s birthday June 19, 2013.

That morning came faster than I ever could have imagined. As I showered I could feel my sweet Drew dancing around….it was met with such mixed emotion. We had already been through so much together. He was already so strong. He had already beaten the odds. I was so ready to have him in my arms, yet I knew that our time would be short…and I wasn’t ready for it to be over. My heart could not grasp the reality that saying hello would also mean saying goodbye. Everyone staggered in to await his arrival…my parents, grandparents, inlaws, good friends, our awesome photographer. My wonderful doula, Nicolle, came…something I was so, so , so happy about because when I first learned our birth would be “different” I wasn’t really sure what her role would be.

The first 7 hours or so were very easy…I even told my friend, Katie, that my contractions actually tickled! Because I had been so focused on all the stress of the previous weeks, I had neglected my original plan of a natural, unmedicated birth and hadn’t spent the time preparing that I should have. When it started getting tough, Nicolle had to give me a crash course! We tried several different things, but ultimately standing is what worked for me. So I stood and prayed and stood and swayed. Nicolle was worried my legs would get tired but I knew I couldn’t do anything else. Then out of nowhere a contraction came that changed everything…it wasn’t the pain…but this one was different. I started getting hot and sweating so much…and the pressure was so much more intense. Nicolle had my nurse, Brandi, check me and I had jumped from 5cm to 8cm in no time! She immediately called my doctor and by the time she ran across the parking lot from her office to the hospital we all knew it was time. I told everyone I couldn’t do it…I begged them to help me, but my OB said the only thing that would help would be to push. I did. I pushed once. My tiny son came flying into this world with one push.

Andrew Milan Martin was here. And his eyes were OPEN. I achieved my one goal…I got to look into his eyes. At 2:22pm on June 19, 2013, I gave birth to my hero. I was SOOOO proud of him. I couldn’t stop saying “you did it!” He even tried to cry a few times He was bigger than we expected at 3lb13oz and 17 1/4″ long. He was beyond perfect. We had spent so much time focusing on and learning all that was wrong with him that I was far from prepared to take in just how beautiful he was. We kissed him, we held him, we talked to him, we bathed him, we dressed him, our boys came in to meet him, our families came in to meet him. Then at 4:13pm he earned his wings. His tiny broken heart had finally stopped. This had given us more time than we expected…not that it would ever be enough. We celebrated Drew’s birth with our family. I wanted this to be a happy time…we even had cupcakes and sang Happy Birthday. His body may not have been “compatible with life” but he was definitely worthy of it.

Everyone trickled out…my doula, friends, family…we were alone. Just me, my husband and Drew. This was a very difficult time, but I’m thankful for it. We were able to take pictures, do footprints and just cuddle. We needed that. We let him leave our side for the first time at 10:00pm that night. We said what were the most difficult goodbyes of our lives and handed him to my nurse. I was beyond broken, but as she walked away I couldn’t help but be proud. I hadn’t just had a baby…I gave birth to a miracle.

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: 37 weeks, all, All Newborns / Diagnosis, Election Not Desire, Infertility / Recurrent Loss

Rainbow Milk

August 16, 2013 by Leave a Comment

 

If you have faced post-loss lactation and have shared your milk:

  • with a surviving multiple
  • with a surviving older sibling
  • with another baby, either through pumping or direct wetnursing

Or if you are a mother nursing your subsequent baby, and this has brought you into a new facet of your grief, as you mourn that nursing relationship not had with your beloved, deceased baby.

Or if you are a bereaved mother who has not experienced lactation at all, but who wants a beautiful keepsake that honors your very real motherhood and all that you are grieving.

We at stillbirthday call this our Rainbow Milk Campaign – an opportunity for you to share photos and stories of this sort of tandem nursing, and see the stories and photos shared by other stillbirthday mothers.  You can also purchase your very own stillbirthday Rainbow Milk teether/necklace.

Related: Love Letters

Sarah-Anne is the first baby photographed in our Rainbow Milk campaign. Her mama was pregnant with triplets and lost all 3 babies. All girls, they collectively refer to them as ‘Hope’. This photo was taken during Sarah-Anne’s first birthday party; it was rainbow-themed.  Canary Lane, a very special photographer and friend, is also an SBD doula student.

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: SBD Campaigns

I Knew

August 15, 2013 by 4 Comments

Told by: Karin

At 32 years old I had had two normal births and pregnancy has never been an issue. I was in a new marriage and we both wanted a baby, so when we found out that I was pregnant the joy was amazing.

I knew exactly when I got pregnant so I know that exactly at 12 weeks I started spotting. It started while I was at a friends house, and I knew. I just knew. I had been working as a Doula for 6 years and I was seriously considering becoming a midwife, so I knew.

So I just sat quietly for a couple more hours at my friends till my husband came and picked me up and I asked him to take me to the hospital. They did an ultrasound and it said that my baby was only 6 weeks, when they said that I knew. They tried to comfort me saying that maybe I had my dates wrong, but I knew.

The (because I am Rh-) they told me I would need a Rogam shot, I broke down. My husband didn’t understand why a shot was so upsetting to me. He couldn’t understand that the only time the give those shots is after birth and during a miscarriage. I hated the nurses and the doctors because they wouldn’t just say the “m” word. I hated them because they treated me like a child. They kept saying “if this is happening” I knew it was and they continued to discount what I knew. The offered to let me stay and have a procedure, I declined and told them I would just go home. I just wanted to be alone with my baby when it was born. I didn’t want those lying, overly nice doctors to touch my child.

So I went home, and my baby was born in the middle of the night in my bathroom. Because she had died at six weeks there wasn’t really anything to see, but oh the pain it took to bring her into the world. Truly while I was heart broken, I was okay. Until “friends” began to question weather I was ever pregnant in the first place. Asking weather I lied for attention, all because the couldn’t understand my decision not to have a D&C. They couldn’t understand why I couldn’t let doctors rip my baby out. I was alone with my pain, because as much as my husband loves me he was consumed in his own pain and loss. Miraculously three weeks after I lost the baby I ended up pregnant again. I didn’t find out until I was almost 18 weeks because I assumed my lack of a period was due to my loss.

The thing is, 5 years later, that I struggle to share because of guilt or shame or whatever, is I still miss my other child, I still cry because I never got to feel her move inside me or hold her in my arms. I never go to celebrate or grieve her 6 weeks of life. I was made to feel guilty because of my choice to go home, I was shamed because I was pregnant but still sad about my loss. I feel like my pain is worth less, because I wasn’t as far along as others, I am trying to heal those wounds today and I am trying to mother my own grief.

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

 

Filed Under: 06 weeks, 12 weeks, Mothering Our Mourning

After Ourselves

August 15, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Told by: Heather

On April 20, 2013 I began bleeding heavily while out of town with my daughter. We were in a hotel room and there was no one but my teenager there to pull me together.

My husband had to come to where I was in the middle of the night.

Later in the week with ultrasounds and blood tests the doctor determined I had a blighted ovum. I would’ve been 10 weeks that week I found out. I had only had my first appointment and no ultrasound pictures. All that remains from my pregnancy is my positive pregnancy test. I never will even know if my baby started to develop and died and was absorbed into my body or if I was only pregnant with the sac.

Either way, I fell in love with my baby with that positive pregnancy test.

We decided since we never saw our baby or knew the sex to name it after ourselves. Jaime (my first name) and Ryan (husband’s middle name). Jaime Ryan….Mommy and Daddy will love you forever!

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: 10 weeks, all, Blighted Ovum / Molar

I Love You Photos

August 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

If you are looking for a creative way to express your love for your baby(ies), we have a beautiful project opportunity for you to be a part of.

To begin, you can choose from either 2 yards of I Love You ribbon, or 1 I Love You feather.

{Update: only 2 feathers left and the ribbon has all been sold.}

This alone is a precious keepsake – just look at the gorgeousness!

 

Choose to either have one feather, or two yards of ribbon. 



[contact-form-7 404 "Not Found"]

Then, after you have your I Love You ribbon or feather, you can take a photo of it, showing how it is depicting your message of love.

Consider just a few of the many ways to say I Love You with either item:

  • You, saying I Love You to your baby.
  • Your baby, saying I Love You to you.
  • Your baby, saying I Love You to their siblings.

Share your I Love You photo that includes your ribbon or feather, and when you do, one person’s photo will be randomly selected for this gorgeous, customizable, cast iron Love Lock that also comes with a key.

About the Love Lock:

Did you long to have a personal and meaningful farewell celebration in your baby’s honor?  This heavy, durable, and real working Love Lock is customized and can have your baby’s name, or anything else special to you, painted onto it.  Here are a couple of things you can do with this special lock and key duo:

  • You can keep them together.
  • You can bury the lock in a beautifully special place to you.  And you can hold on to the key.
  • You can affix the real, working, cast iron {heavy and durable} lock to a symbolic structure such as a fence or post, and you can bury, toss or treasure the key.  This is an old custom called Love Locks.

This lock and key duo is valued at over $50.

We will take the first 5 feather photos and the first 5 ribbon photos for this opportunity, with one photo selected.

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: SBD News Team

In Loving Memory of Cash

August 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Told by: Tiona

 

At 5am on Tuesday 5th February 2013 I gave birth to a baby boy at home. He was 20 weeks & 1 day gestational age and weighed a mere 340 grams. I held my son his whole life; 8 minutes.

I named my son Cash Alan.

I watched Cash as he struggled for life; it is an image that will forever haunt me. I shared his pain and fear but there was nothing I could do to save him.

An autopsy found that my premature labour was caused by an infection of the uterus and placenta due to low levels of amniotic fluid.

Cash was cremated on Thursday February 14th 2013. I keep his ashes with me in a small urn.

I have found some comfort in knowing that all Cash knew of Life was my love for him, but I will never truly come to terms with his death.

Prior to losing Cash, I spent over 15 years building a career as a publicist. I loved my field and felt passionate about everything I was doing. That all changed on 5th February 2013. I became someone else; none of the little stuff mattered anymore and my life felt meaningless.

I was at a crossroads, lost in my grief.

A few weeks after losing Cash I packed up and moved 1600 kilometres away for a fresh start. I knew I no longer wanted to be a publicist, the late nights and time away from home kept me away from my other children.

 

 

 

Filed Under: 20 weeks, Home /Out-of-Hospital/ Loss, Live Miscarriage

Protected: I Just Wanted Him Alive

August 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Filed Under: 21 weeks

Shame

August 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Grief is the hardest challenge I have ever been faced with.

You would think, that bereaved mothers share something universal, something collective, and that we each, would treasure our cup that we carry into our global community pool of tears.  That we would treasure one another’s cup, as well.

The reality is, we don’t.

We speak of the things our loved ones can do better, but we are hurting one another within our own circle.

We try to push others out of the circle.  We try to push ourselves out of the circle.

Divisiveness becomes a way to protect our very fragile wounds.  We bereaved mothers often discriminate, often divide, based on:

  • age of the baby.
  • family structure.
  • choices made prior to the birth.
  • choices made during birth.
  • choices made after the birth.
  • definition of loss.
  • religion.

And while I tend to think that these divisions most often come from a place of fear, what we need to know, is that these divisions fester something terrible, in ourselves, and in each other.

Shame.

I don’t deserve to be part of community, because _________

  • I’m too young.
  • I wasn’t as far along as you.
  • I’m lesbian.
  • I’m older than you.
  • I’m not married.
  • I didn’t do what you did, or what you would have done.
  • I’m not religious.
  • I’m confused about what I believe.
  • I am religious.
  • I should have known better, and I should have done things differently.
  • I haven’t had enough losses.
  • I’ve had too many losses.
  • I have more to be thankful for or happy about than others.
  • I have made mistakes, and I am unforgiveable.

Stop!

These are all lies!

Shame is a facet of our grief.  It just is.  And as we peer into our cup of tears, we are terrified to think that ours is the only one that holds shame.  We fear that if we dare pour our cup into the community pool, that what we have to bring will taint the well.  It will stain the waters and will ruin the gathered source of healing.

So we try to scoop it out.  We try to pat our damp hands on our sides, hoping we got it all out, hoping nobody will see.

And our community source of healing is terribly dry because of it.

The more options we learn that there are, prior to birth…

The more options we learn that there are, during birth…

The more options we learn that there are, after birth…

…the more that shame can loom in, casting out a shadow that we are tempted to flee and hide behind.

Shame, just like grief, is something we have silently learned to run from, but shame, just like grief, is something that stillbirthday invites you, with tenderness and with sensitivity, to learn to lean into.

I am the founder of stillbirthday, and I strive continually to find the next option, the latest choice a family may have, the newest wonderfully healing opportunity for families enduring their darkest of days.  And in the process, I can say with all certainty that yes, there are things I would do differently in my own darkest of days, if I could do them all over.

But the process also reminds me, that it’s never too late.

I am worthy of healing.

I have beautiful choices now.

I can learn to mother my mourning.

I can learn to release myself from the bondage of shame.

I can remember and I can believe, that we are all, in this together.

With a little bit of courage, with our circle of community and with a little bit of creativity, we can show love – to one another, to our babies, and to ourselves.

 We do not have to forget or forfeit our own experiences, morals, interpretations or beliefs, nor do we need to have others forget or forfeit their own.  We can give – and get – love, just the way we are.  And by so doing, we will deepen, we will grow, we will heal.

 

Filed Under: all, Provider Care, SBD News Team
Next Page »

The SBD® Doula provides support to families experiencing birth in any trimester and in any outcome.

Here at stillbirthday.info, you can learn about the SBD® Doula.