Archives for November 2013

Miranda Coker, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving St. Louis, Missouri

email: MirandaCoker.SBD@stillbirthday.info

 

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Can We Just Skip Christmas?

With pregnancy and baby announcements from our loved ones, the awkward pauses, the empty seat at the table, and the underlying questions still left unanswered, it is no wonder Christmas can bring with it heightened anxiety or even dread for bereaved parents.

Wait, what’s that, you ask?  What are those unanswered questions?  Here’s just a few:

God, why did You, in Your great omnipotence, let this happen?
Did I do something wrong?  Why won’t my husband let me grieve?  Does he still even love me?  Will I ever feel whole again?

God, where are you?

And the comparison that Jesus died too – in His thirties – hardly suffices as ointment for these broken wounds.

We’ll be spending some intentional time between Thanksgiving and Christmas offering different perspectives and pieces of encouragement for our community, but if you’re dreading Christmas and just wish it would quietly move past us all without anyone noticing – this is precisely what may have happened.

Let me explain.

hebrew_calendar

 This is an article that speaks specifically to Christian faith.  If you are not Christian, you may not enjoy this article.

The Old Testament festivals were not only essential in protecting God’s chosen people from health concerns and the idolatry of neighboring countries, but each foreshadowed an important aspect of the life of Jesus Christ (and therefore the new life in Christ for each believer).  In reviewing these Old Testament festivals, each is also symbolic of an important aspect of the life of the growing baby in the womb.  These secondary interpretations do not replace the original, literal context of the Scriptures, but add to them and enrich our understanding of our God, and of the importance of life in the womb.  The correlation of these festivals reveal that conception, gestation, and birth are all reflective of our Lord Jesus Christ; we cannot “choose” to be made in His image, from conception, we simply already are.

 

Lamb Selection

On the tenth day of the first month (Nisan-typically April) of the Jewish calendar year (lunar calendar follows a 28-day cycle), the Israelites were instructed to select a perfect, flawless, completely white lamb to sacrifice to God and to provide for their family (Exodus 12:3).

Foreshadow of Christ: He is our perfect sacrifice and complete provision.

New life: On the tenth day of the woman’s menstrual cycle (also following the lunar, 28 day cycle), she discharges a white, stretchy liquid from her cervix (which can be found when she wipes or a small amount in her panties); this marks her heightened fertility.

 

Passover

On the fourteenth day of the first month of the Jewish calendar year, the Israelites were instructed to sacrifice the lamb, and instructions were given to mark their door frames; thus, the Spirit of God would pass over them and bless them with continued life.  The Passover is not an event marked by death; instead it is a celebration of life.   When the instructions were followed correctly and at the proper time, God blessed the family.

Foreshadow of Christ: As already stated, He is our perfect sacrifice and complete provision.  His selfless sacrifice, at the right time, permitted each believer to be blessed with eternal life.

New life: On the fourteenth day of the woman’s cycle, an egg is released (this is adjusted for women with irregular cycles).  It has only within the following 24-hour period to be fertilized, or it will pass on as the woman’s next menstrual cycle.  It is within this 24-hour period alone that there is chance for new life.

 

*Unleavened Bread

According to Leviticus 23:6, the festival of Unleavened Bread must occur on the fifteenth day of the first month, or, within 24-hours of the Passover.  The Israelites were instructed to eat only unleavened bread (or the pure kernel without yeast—see John 12:24) as a sign of a Holy walk.

Foreshadow of Christ: We see from Scripture that Jesus was buried at the beginning of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, to later rise again, as all Christians shall.  Jesus died in only 6 hours, an unprecedented amount of time, so that each of the symbolic and prophetic festivals could be preserved.

New life: As mentioned earlier, the seed (sperm) needs to implant the egg within the important 24-hour period for new life to occur.

 

First Fruits

The purpose of the celebration of First Fruits is to acknowledge God’s blessing of fertility.  The Israelites were instructed to collect the very first young crops and present them to the Lord for an offering.  This festival takes place the immediate Sunday after Passover, occurring during the celebration of Unleavened Bread.  Today’s celebration is now called Easter, and as we celebrate with objects of fertility, it is intended to be a celebration of God’s faithfulness.

Foreshadow of Christ: Jesus was resurrected and received by God during First Fruits, as an offering to acknowledge His faithfulness and the hope and knowledge that more believers after Him will also be resurrected (1 Cor. 15:23). 

New life: After the fertilized egg travels down the fallopian tube and into the uterus, it implants into the lining of the rich uterine wall.  It is the hormonal changes prompted by this implanting that first signals change in the woman—the first sign of life, which can be identified by a blood test, and later, a urine test.

Purim

While Purim is not one of the Old Testament festivals ordained by God, it is one proclaimed by His people.  Similar to Hanukkah in this way, it doesn’t have the same exact fit in regard to the Gregorian calendar, yet it still has spiritual and physical implication in regard to its harmony with fetal development.  Purim is a celebration to honor the deliverance of the Jews in the time of Esther.  It is celebrated on either the 14th or 15th of the Jewish month of Adar, which is approximately in February or March.  It is known for God hiding Himself from His people.  Scholarly studies explain that when one hides his true identity and assumes another identity, his true self is revealed.  It is associated with giving birth to renew the ultimate self.  The word kuf also alludes to the “eye of a needle.”  Through this eye, God’s light enters to reveal its glory to the Jewish soul.

Foreshadow of Christ: Purim is noted for its celebration of reciprocity.  Through Jesus’ death and His gifts of Salvation and the Holy Spirit, we have an opportunity to engage in a reciprical relationship, a communion, with Him.

New Life: As the corpus luteum begins to diminish at approximately seven weeks after Passover, the baby’s placenta begins to supplement and by twelve weeks after conception fully takes over life sustaining hormone production.  The synthesis and secretion of steroid hormones by the placenta requires the collaboration of both fetal and maternal tissues.

 

*Pentecost

This celebration occurs on a Sunday, the fiftieth day after the celebration of First Fruits (Lev. 23:15-16).  Known as the Summer Harvest (usually in late May or early June), more crops are available then First Fruits, but still not as many as will be available at the coming Fall Harvest.

Foreshadow of Christ: Acts 2 records the day of Pentecost, which marks the first day of the Church of Jesus Christ (essential point of Premillenial Dispensationalism), where a harvest was brought in, of over three thousand souls.

New life: High school science texts often show a similar in-utero development of humans to other species, attempting to prove evolution-like theories.  What they all fail to emphasize, however, is that on exactly the fiftieth day of development from the day of implantation, the growing embryo is  considered a new creature; this new creature is identified as a human (fetus), and as science and scripture both tell us, set apart from all other life forms.

 

Trumpets

On the first day of the seventh month of the Jewish calendar year (Tishrei-usually September), the Israelites were instructed to have a Holy ceremony involving the blowing of horns (Lev. 23:24).  Immediately upon hearing the trumpets sound, the faithful workers from the surrounding fields would drop their work and come into the temple for worship; the unbelievers stayed and continued to work without them (Matthew 24:40).

Foreshadow of Christ: Representative of the Church age, and the coming Rapture (1 Thess. 4:16-17).

New life: While all major development has already occurred prior to and leading up to Pentecost (the unmistakable identification of a human), on the first day of the seventh month, the baby can now discriminate differing noises, and respond to them accordingly.

 

Atonement

On the tenth day of the seventh month (again, Tishrei), the High Priest enters the Holy of Holies to make a sacrifice for the sins of himself and all the Israelites.

Foreshadow of Christ: Jesus is to the believing Church the ultimate and complete atoning sacrifice, and at His Second Coming, He will atone for surviving Israel (Zech. 13:8) as well (Romans 11:26; there is a future for Israel).

New life: On the tenth day of the seventh month, hemoglobin in fetal blood changes to work with the oxygen it will be receiving at birth (to be self-respirating).  Hemoglobin F changes to Hemoglobin A.

 

*Tabernacles

On the fifteenth day of the seventh month (Ethanon, seventh full moon of the Jewish year—falls between late September and early November), the Israelites were to celebrate God’s provision of shelter in the wilderness (Lev. 23: 42-43).

Foreshadow of Christ: Kingdom, the last of the festivals; Jesus’ great Tabernacle in Jerusalem during the Kingdom Age.  (Zech. 14:16-19) (Ezekiel 37:26-27).

New life: Tabernacle is the house of the spirit, and the lungs the house of the air.  (Genesis 2:7, Ezekiel 37:9).  The baby and the believer are both fully equipped to sustain life.

*Pilgrim Festivals: Israelite males present themselves to Yahweh three times a year.  During this time, their communities are left vulnerable, without male protection, but with the protection of God.  The entire family has a responsibility to participate and to surrender in faith.  These correlate with the beginning, the middle and the end of pregnancy.

 

Hanukkah

This Festival of Lights is celebrated 280 days after Passover.  It is not one of the instructed festivals given on Mt. Sinai but prophesied by Daniel (Daniel 8:9-14) and represents eternal light.  At the rededication of the Holy Temple following the victory over the Maccabees, there was only enough consecrated olive oil to fuel the Eternal Flame in the Temple for one day; however, the oil burned for eight days, the length of time it took to prepare and consecrate additional fresh olive oil.

Foreshadow of Christ: This festival is representative of eternal life, which is a direct metaphor of Jesus Christ.

New life: 280 days equals one complete pregnancy; the physical demonstration of childbirth resembles the spiritual truth that we each have eternal life with God through Jesus.

 

Purim

Purim is celebrated in the last month of the Jewish calendar year.  It is known for God hiding Himself from His people.  Scholarly studies explain that when one hides his true identity and assumes another identity, his true self is revealed.  It is associated with giving birth to renew the ultimate self.  The word kuf also alludes to the “eye of a needle.”  Through this eye, God’s light enters to reveal its glory to the Jewish soul.

Foreshadow of Christ: Purim is noted for its celebration of reciprocity.  Through Jesus’ death and His gifts of Salvation and the Holy Spirit, we have an opportunity to engage in a reciprical relationship, a communion, with Him.

New Life: The reciprical nature of death on earth and birth in eternity.

 

So, did we miss Christmas?

In Luke 1, we read that Zechariah was visited by the angel Gabriel while he was serving at the temple.  Because Zechariah belonged to the division of Abijah, the 8th tribe, we might deduce that this encounter took place within the week he was serving, and we can compare that to the Hebrew calendar.  From there we read when Mary visited Elizabeth, to announce her pregnancy, while Elizabeth was in her 6th month of pregnancy.  This allows us to apply Elizabeth’s pregnancy to determine an approximate time Jesus may have been born.  And while there are plenty of theories about when He was born, and none of us know precisely when He was born – the knowledge that Mary and Joseph were traveling and that ultimately Jesus was laid in a manger, certainly point to the festival of Tabernacles and the temporary shelters used for this pilgrim festival.

 

“After enduring loss, I’m waiting until after the first trimester to announce my pregnancy.”

Incidentally, Elizabeth kept her pregnancy hidden for 5 months.  She was an older woman, shamed that she could not bear children.  It is entirely possible that once she became pregnant, she hid her pregnancy for fear of ridicule and mocking by her loved ones.  Not having pregnancy tests, imagine her waiting until her belly was round enough to prove for itself that a baby was inside.

 

When the scriptures included here in these passages are read, it reveals that Christmas – the actual birth of Jesus – may have happened during the festival of Tabernacles.  And this year, the festival of Tabernacles was between September 18-25.

 

So as we walk this together, building encouragement and tips for not only enduring this holiday season, but even in finding joy in it, may this article serve to lift a bit of the pressure, may you be encouraged that we don’t actually know the day Jesus was born.  An arbitrary day was selected.  Maybe you labored for days and are not sure when you gave birth.  Maybe flushing was inevitable.  Maybe you gave birth with medical assistance and it didn’t feel like a birth.  Maybe you can select a special day that you designate to honor your little one.

However you face the holiday season, you aren’t alone. 

You are worthy to be loved and to receive healing.

 

Michelle Walz, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving French-speaking Switzerland

email: MichelleWalz.SBD@stillbirthday.info

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Hazel Mayger, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving Northern Ireland

email: HazelMayger.SBD@stillbirthday.info

HazelHazel proudly trained as a Stillbirthday doula through the Special Interest scholarship program.  She works full time as a birth doula across Northern Ireland and now offers bereavement and loss doula support to families in Northern Ireland as well as parts of the Republic of Ireland. She will offer phone and email support to anyone across both provinces.
Hazel’s vision is for Ireland to have full bereavement doula services for people suffering a loss or terminal illness at any stage of life and she hopes to offer end of life doula services in the future.
Currently, she is available to attend births as a stillbirthday doula, or to offer phone or email support. She offers assistance with loss at any stage of pregnancy, and doula services for subsequent pregnancies. She is able to help you in hospital or at home and will be available to you in weeks and months following a loss. Hazel is a very laid back, calm and easy to get on with person. She is non judgmental, open minded and available to serve individuals or couples from all walks of life.

 

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What my Miscarriage Taught me about Abortion

…or, why I hate being pro-life.

 

It is not too often I speak on my own very personal feeling about elective abortion, because it is just that – my own, very personal feeling.  I am the founder of stillbirthday, but it is a place for all of us to come to heal.

Still, I am often asked if stillbirthday, which is run under Christian Childbirth Services LLC, is a religious organization or, more specifically, if it is pro-life.

And still, I am often coached, or, what is even more hurtful, ignored, by pro-life individuals and organizations because my feeling is not as intentionally legalistic and divisive as some would like it to be.

Most days, I sweep these rejections and pressures into the box of drama that contains other requests including that I exclude African Americans, Muslims, Lesbians or even, to my confusion, Christians.  Yes, I get these kinds of requests.  And more.

Stillbirthday has been here over two years and in that time has grown in our inclusion and we continue to expand and reach more mothers and families.

In Christian terms, inclusionary often translates to a weakened religion.  Unitarianism.  Humanism.

Let me take you back to that fateful day, in that ultrasound room, when I learned that my baby was not alive.  When I knew, just knew, that God was going to breathe life, speak life back into my baby.  And finally, when the ultrasound screen went black.

One of the most sudden and pervasive thoughts plunged into my mind when the doctor started talking about “Call it what you want but we need to get that debris out of there.”

And it was this: D&C is murder.

I had been a birth professional for several years.  A Christian for several years.  I studied my baby on the monitor long enough that I knew that I knew my baby was not alive.  And yet, this is what I believed.

It was what I was taught.

And you probably were too.

The photos.  You know what I’m talking about – the photos of the tiniest, broken bodies of babies.

The blood.

Don’t do it.  Don’t do this to your baby.  It’s horrifying, isn’t it?  It’s dreadful, isn’t it?  It’s inhumane, isn’t it?

And we’ve had it all wrong.

How dare we attempt to strip the dignity away from our tiniest of humans.

How dare we attempt to portray a baby, fragile, helpless, as horrendous, horrific, disgusting, and haunting.

This is what we’ve done to our young.  We’ve strategically placed their body parts around objects like dimes and quarters, finding value – real value, haven’t we? – in demonstrating how their physical form is not intact.

For a photo such as this, the more blood, the better.  The more brokenness, the better.  The more disturbing, the better.

Because it is done with the intention of saving lives, is it not?

Let me tell you about those lives.

They wear the face of the person next to you in the pew.  The older woman, the dignified woman, who wears gloves and a purse that matches her shoes.  Statistics.  Math.  Numbers.  These things tell us that she is the one who gave birth via D&C, electing abortion because she already has people to take care of.

In my own, personal life?  I have a house full of toddlers.  I cannot pee by myself.  I go to bed last and wake up first and scramble all day long to accomplish 10 different times what looks at the end of the day as if was never done.  And sometimes in my weariness I dream of the day when I can take a long, hot bath, or eat a warm meal.

Someday, my toddlers will be older.  Everyone in the house will know how to pee by themselves and will know to let mom pee by herself.  Someday, right? And when that day comes?

Will I become pregnant again, unintentionally?

And, would I be enthralled?  To do – this – all over again?

I know the answer to that, but let’s back up just a second before you tell me that I am softening the Christian message and making it look easy for mothers to give birth in which they also elect abortion murder their babies.

Before you rush to tell me that I need to be open to what God has in store for me – which, I am and always will be – after all, I did give birth to a baby via miscarriage – let me clarify – I have a dead baby – and – I still praise His mighty name – let me ask you –

Go back to church.  Remember the older woman next to you?  With her gracefulness and accessories?

What have you done to show her that you are open to what God has in store for her?

Isn’t her pale pink face much prettier to look at than those tiny red hands placed strategically over President Washington’s silvery face of the American quarter?

What impact does the fear-based divisive pr0-life propaganda have?

The photos and the messages are intended to be terrifying – so, the question should be asked: who, precisely, is terrified?

I’ll tell you who is terrified.

->Mothers enduring miscarriage.

->Mothers whose babies have already died, who are pressured by doctors that a D&C will hurry up and clean up the mess, will discard the debris, will remove the products of conception.

->Mothers who legitimately do need medical assistance in the birth of their young baby.

->Mothers who give birth and elected abortion – not because they didn’t know of the label of murder – but simply because they, as all individuals, have a right to interpret their own experience to the best of their ability.  Mothers who now, bereaved, often feel forced into lying about their experience – coerced – in order to receive any support for their loss.  Yes, that’s right.  Mothers who’ve told you they’ve endured miscarriage may in fact be harboring a secret that is torturing them, while they are racing with weary hopefulness that the support offered for their miscarriage can possibly spread thin enough to cover the depths of their wounds.  There is a dishonesty in the bereaved community, and it is proliferated by the belief that somehow the pious among us have authority to decide who has permission to enter into healing.  You have a right to decide where your own moral and ethical bounds are – but so does each mother – and you do not have a right to determine the worth of a mother based on where or why she has placed her bounds.

->Mothers who have given birth and endured elective abortion under life-threatening pressure or who were manipulated, forced, or bullied through the experience.  What happens when they beg justice be done for the horrific ill intent of someone in a powerful position of authority?  We tell this mother that we won’t call her a murderer, but only as long as she calls her doctor or her spouse one.  And we say of the entire experience “Her baby was murdered.”  If every gun resulted in murder, it wouldn’t matter who fired one or for what reason – every gun would mean murder.  But not every fired gun results in murder – even if someone dies.  This means, we always need to look at what the true variable is, and the true variable is intent.  A mother who has endured horrific manipulation into the death of her baby still has every right to say that her baby was born.  Born under frightful circumstances, born with the pressure that the baby would not live, but born he still is.  And being born does not in any ounce discredit her own interpretation, of which she has a right, to define the intent which coupled the birth. Birth, you see, automatically assumes personhood.  When we audaciously believe we have the authority to define each situation uniquely according to our own drawn lines, we are sending mothers out to attack one another as they defend their own experiences and their own worth.  D&C is birth. 

->Mothers who elected abortion for any number of reasons who are trying to make sense of God.  Because D&C the birth method comes with a host of immediate and long term challenges, including the possibility of Asherman’s Syndrome, a mother who elected abortion for any reason who then endures miscarriages later is led to believe – because we Christians reflect a legalistic version of God – that God is killing her babies for justice for her elective abortion.  In fact, because of our demonization of D&C, many mothers enduring inevitable miscarriage, miscarriage through any birth method, and mothers enduring elective abortion for any reason are faced with this.

The demonization of the D&C is a direct attack against an open relationship with a mother and her Creator, and an attack against an open bridge between a bereaved mother and her path toward healing.  Your discrimination is dangerous.

->Young mothers like me.  Your response to miscarriage with platitudes and your response to elective abortion with inaccurate labels places young mothers like me at risk of someday becoming that seemingly well-put-together older woman standing stoically beside you, clutching her purse on Sunday morning.  The woman with the right shade of lipstick and the secret just behind it, forcing herself from trembling and holding herself up with sheer determination.

Preventing or ending elective abortion should never have been the only voice of the pro-life movement.  It should have always been – and should be now – inclusive of bereavement and the mourning of all babies – unconditionally and inherently.

And now, even as we still deal with the long term effects of years of horror-intended messages and photos, what have we now?  We have pro-life organizations seeking out the stories and photos of babies born through miscarriage – babies, whole, of course, not born via D&C.  Babies, cradled, in birth stories with the very specific, expressed message that says that it is through their miscarriage they honor life prior to birth.  A message that is, ironically, quite similar to the title of this very article – “what my miscarriage taught me about abortion” – and Christian mothers are only invited to share about our birth stories if they specifically include such a comparison.  Because babies born via miscarriage from Christian mothers aren’t inherently worthy to be seen or heard about.  They only count with a message proliferating division attached.

So let’s get a few things straight.

D&C is a birth method.

D&C is a birth method, that only when coupled with the intent not to preserve life or delay death, is a birth method resulting in elective abortion.

And you have the moral and ethical right to define that intent, however is right for you.

But the pro-life propaganda message of decreasing elective abortion should never have been on showing the birth method of D&C in a horrific and frightful way.

D&C has immediate and has long term very painful and potentially dangerous implications.  Just D&C.  Just the birth method.

It’s already not easy.  It’s already not pretty.

But the woman in the pew next to you – she is pretty, isn’t she?

What about her?  Have you really studied her lately?  Meditated on the scriptures and felt convicted to help your neighbor?

What about young mothers, like me?  I don’t even have a mother.  My children are without a grandmother, to bake warm cookies with while mommy takes a nap.  I am blessed to have a strong, providing man, but what about the morning when my two year old found a red permanent marker and thought it’d be lovely to write his love for me on the hallway wall?  Or how about the mess when my one year old slipped her diaper off, onto the living room carpet, after she poo-pooed?  What about when I take my crew grocery shopping, with one in the basket, one in a carrier, and another toddling along – and one spots the cookie aisle and starts whimpering to have them, one drops his Spider Man under the aisle and bellows as if he’s dying, and the other is trying with all her might to wriggle out of her papoose because she’s bored?  Or when I take my children to the park, and as I’m helping – beckoning – my daughter to slide, it requires me to take my eyes off of one of my crew, the one who is particularly adventurous, the one who I sometimes think is shopping for a new mommy?  I’d really like to keep him, actually.  And I worry when he strays.

Wait, wait.  You’re reading this and it’s getting personal and you might be thinking ahead.  “What,” you’re thinking, “do you need me to come over and babysit for you?”

I’d love it if my mom could come over and sit with me, and just, fold socks with me.  That’s not going to happen and that’s not even the point.

What do I want?  Let me jump ahead with you and I’ll answer that.  I want you to know that D&C is a birth method.  I want you to understand the gift of time, of presence, that you can but are not giving.  And the consequences because of it.

The intentionally horrific portrayals of broken bits of babies intended to depict elective abortion are actually depicting nothing more than babies born via D&C.

The legalistic Christian cautions me that I can’t water down the message or try to make it look pretty, because it’s less effective.  We want to save lives, after all.

They scream – STOP IT – because now it looks like I’m making elective abortion more accessible.

Scaring people into thinking that D&C itself is murder certainly has saved lives.  But it has done so artificially.

And it has had horrendous – live endangering – consequences.

If you want to save lives, you do need to be softer – to ripen.  I was once afraid to be anywhere near elective abortion, afraid that as others studied my spiritual fruit, it would look like it was rotting by being anywhere near it.  But the truth is, your abandoning people and fleeing to cover your bushels is causing a plague of shame, loneliness and spiritual starvation.

Because when you respond to miscarriage with:
You’ve already got children, you’re still blessed – this is flat insufficient.  This is a shrug to get over it.

God rescued your baby – when I’m frantically searching the playground, huffing with the weight of my wriggling daughter in my arms, peeking into slide tunnels looking for my wandering toddler, a panic strikes me, and I’m terrified this is true.

Something was wrong with your baby – this is denying the inherent value of life.  I do not dare minimize the struggles of rearing a baby with special needs, but implying that God (or nature) eradicated His (or its) mistake through miscarriage, challenges the omnipotence of our Creator and reduces the value of humanity to that of simply reducing inconveniences – sound familiar?

Take a look around you.

An American mother endures a miscarriage every minute.

In the quest to preserve life, so many have neglected life.

You don’t need to come over and fold socks with me.  But you need to remember that our fight is never with flesh – and that includes flesh placed on quarters.

It is with spiritual forces.  It is with intention.

If you want to prevent elective abortion, you need to speak to the intention behind it.  Not the birth method.

So let’s define elective abortion, to get to the intention behind it.

Elective abortion includes a birth method, coupled with the intent to refrain from life sustaining or death delaying measures.

And that intent can include any of the following:

  • a knowledge that medical support cannot or will not sustain the baby’s life
  • a use of any foreign object, including instrument, intended as a death method

The intent can come from the mother, from someone involved in assisting the birth, or both.

The intent might be labeled as premeditated murder, or it might be labeled as pre-emptive humanity.  As a choice or as a right.

And when you don’t speak to that intent, when you slap a label on a birth method, the label you place haunts mothers – it actually feeds the spiritual forces already against us.

And let us all be clear;  one cannot dilute the magnitude of the outcome by clouding the reality involved.  Just as much as I am admonishing the pro-life community to articulate clearly between birth and murder, so too those who feel they are pro-choice need to express a clear distinction of the words fertility v. pregnancy, woman v. mother, menstruation v. lochia, and self rights v. parenting decisions.

So when you label your own Christian Sister’s miscarriage as “God was fixing His mistake” or “Aren’t you blessed?”  or “Can’t you get over it?” it is haunting.  When I’m running to the frightful cries of my child, wondering if just a tantrum or if a serious injury awaits my panicked discovery – I am faced with the label, the haunting wondering if one of my children is dead because he was rescued from my failings – and I know more than anyone, that I have many.  And I secretly face these fears, more often than you know.

It is through my personal, facing, of my own life, it is through sitting, folding socks with Jesus Himself, that I hear the message finally, that no matter what, I am worthy.  And I become strong enough.  I become a warrior who is armored to fight the untruths planted by platitudes and festered into rotted weeds, watered by the enemy’s salivating drool.

So, to the conclusion, and it is this.

When you do not validate birth as the intrinsic reality that it is, when you label it according to what fits your own agenda instead of taking time to really sit with it and be present with those who are hurting, you are responsible for feeding division, for gashing hope, for slicing dignity to shreds, and for putting individuals at risk of losing faith and losing life.

Every day, the messages of terror, of a lack of worth, of legalism, permeate places in every day lives that they have no business being.

Labels and platitudes strip us raw on our journey, at a time we’d simply love (when we may be silently begging for) a companion.

Let me ask you again.

To the beautiful woman in the sanctuary.

To the mother who gave birth to her miscarried baby via D&C.

To the mother who gave birth to her electively aborted baby via D&C.

What have you really done to show her that you are open to what God has in store for her?

Lest you think my question is an unbiblical one, Jonah too, smelled of fear and legalism.

His own people suffered because of his procrastination, and Jonah was willing to deny his own people the great blessing of praising God.

The sailors suffered because of his selfish thinking that he could defend God rather than serve God.

The fish endured because of his lack of trust in the Lord – who actually enjoys vomiting, right?  Interesting, the parallel there, to God’s expectation of Jonah bringing forth life, to pregnant mothers enduring nausea with the hope that their child too, will bring forth life.

Finally, then, after Jonah delivered the Lord’s message, he did so still with condition in his heart.  Still with a need to defend God rather than serve God.  And so Jonah sat, hiding his light under a bushel, resting in the shade of a tree.

When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, He relented and did not bring on them the destruction He had threatened.  And the Lord asked Jonah,  “Is it right for you to be angry?” -Jonah 3:10, 4:4

Jonah should have been well on his way back to relate the message of mercy to his people.  But I believe he was more afraid to do that than to head to Nineveh to begin with.

May we all be reminded of the Pharisee in Luke 18:14.

May we all learn to offer God rather than protect God.  To obey the call to offer the gift of presence.  Because to cast out others casts out us, and it casts out God.

Pro-healing means that each individual is inherently worthy of receiving healing:

stillbirthday is pro-healing.

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Because a subject of such enormity could never be fully covered in one blog post (even a long one!) I will be writing a series of smaller articles to touch on a few specific examples and a few practical ways to check your heart and to serve others, entirely within your own ethical and moral bounds, wherever they may be, while still bringing hope and healing to others, wherever they may be.  Those links will appear here below, as they are published.

  • Pro-Eternal-Life: thoughts on Omnipotence & Conflict (Matthew 18:15-17, Jonah 3:10) (in drafts)
  • Choice Words: is dying always killing, and is killing always murder? (in drafts)
  • The Gift of Presence: real life application when pro-life meets pro-choice (in drafts)
  • The Gift of Presence: real life application when pro-life meets bereavement (in drafts)

 

 

 

My Sweet Snowflakes

Told by: Emily

I am writing to share my story of my sweet, wonderful Snowflake babies.

I adopted 9 embryos in February 2008 through Nightlight Christian Adoption.  My first transfer was June 26, 2008 in which we thawed and transferred 2 beautiful embryos.  One embryo grew and developed into our gorgeous Grace Kerah-Isabella who is now 4 1/2 years old.

Unfortunately the other precious embryo, Peace Ivanna, was unable to implant and went home to be with her Heavenly Father.  My heart grieves daily at the loss of this sweet little one, but I rest in the hope of knowing we will meet again someday.  My second transfer was March 30, 2011.  We again thawed and transferred 2 healthy embryos.

Praise God, both of these embryos snuggled in and became my handsome Isaac Jeffrey and Isaiah David who are 23 months!  We are in the process of preparing for our next transfer which will be around December 4, 2013.

We will again thaw and transfer 2 more of my beloved embryos and I pray for another set of twins.  We will continue to do transfers every 2 years until each of our little ones has a chance to be born.

I pray that all of my remaining embryos are able to thaw, transfer, grow and be born.  I love all my Snowflake babies.

~Emily (mother of 5 born children, 1 heavenly child, and 5 frozen children)

 

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Our Daughter Born Sleeping

Told by: Lorraine

I am sharing our story so that it may help other mothers who have lost their baby and are deeply grieving their loss. It’s a memory that plays out in my mind like a terrible dream and I ask myself what can I have done to save my baby girl. I was at 37 weeks and scheduled for our routine check up with my doctor. I was so excited cause every mother I know often looks forward to seeing their little one move about on an ultrasound and often smile proudly at hearing how strong their little heart beats. But on this routine check up, there was no movement on the monitor or a heart beat heard.

My baby girl was very active and she had a strong heart…when nothing was indicated I already knew I lost my baby. My doctor excused herself from the room, as I laid there with my exposed belly…I turned my face towards my mother and said “The baby is gone, there is no heart beat.” Warm tears started to trickle down my face. I heard a loud muffled cry in the hallway and I soon realized it was my mother. The doctors had officially informed her.

I was still laying there looking out the window, then my doctors face came to view as she sat there talking to me and all I could do was stare in disbelief. The world seemed to stand still for me while the nurses and doctors around me moved about with a look of despair. My fiancé then came into the room and we were left alone. I felt my face pressed against his chest and felt his arms wrapped around me. I cried and there was nothing we can do. I felt helpless, my mind just could not fathom that the baby I was carrying and scheduled to be born in 3 weeks had died inside me. My hand touched my belly, she was still there inside and how I wished for her to move to awaken me from this horrible nightmare.

You would have expected that from this incident, nurses rushing around, or an ambulance taking me straight into an operating room to cut me open to save the baby. No.. not at all. Thats what happens in the movies. Reality is that, the doctors inform you that you can go home to rest for a couple of days and then go to Labour and Delivery. I was surprised at how calmly the situation was addressed. All I could think of was why, why wouldn’t you rush me to the operating room..why are we just sitting here?

After 26 hours, I delivered our stillborn baby. My cries cut through the thick silence in the room. I started crying harder and louder as they surrounded me and rushed about. I didn’t know what to expect, I was frightened and nervous to hold our child. Finally my fiancé, handed our baby girl to me. My cries came to a halt, my eyes adjusted and there she was so perfect and beautiful. Our daughter Aria Sharon Del Rosario was born sleeping.

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With Her Daddy’s Strength She Led Me

Told by: Markera

I met Charles in 2001 and by July 2003, we were married. We had talked about having kids, it seemed, almost from day one.

About six months to a year into our relationship, we began to actively try and get pregnant. Since he had a daughter, I had a feeling it might have been me. I joined a gym and three months later I was pregnant!

My morning sickness was terrible. I missed work a few times. Things already started off shaky, when I took the test I was bleeding and the nurse mentioned I might have been spontaneously aborting. At the ultrasound, everything appeared normal and life went on. I finished up my wedding plans, and at four months pregnant, we had sealed the deal and were ready to settle in as a family.

One month to the day we got married, I began having problems. I was walking along with my mom in the grocery store when I told her it felt like something had slipped between my legs. I felt uncomfortable and just didn’t feel quite right. The next morning, I was discharging my mucous plug. I waited to see if it would stop, because it was intermittent. But that evening I went to the hospital and hours later finally found out my membranes were bulging out of my cervix. Breathless and afraid, this is my first child, the hospital I am at doesn’t allow family in on the labour ward, I am all alone and terrified.

I cried for hours before, and as I sat there about to be prepped for an emergency cerclage, I bawled some more. I went into the OR at a bit past 10pm and came out after 11pm. The first thing I asked was if I was still pregnant because they explained that there were high risks in putting in a suture at this late stage. I was looking at sixteen weeks bedrest. I was discharged two days later and decided to make the best of it. Being bedridden would drive me insane, but I had to. There’d be no moving around, no love-making, no unnecessary shuffling around. Two days later I was back in the hospital, strange discharge and spotting. I was told that it was a yeast infection, given medication and told to relax.

I went back that evening because the discharge increased and they admitted me for observation. I bled through the night, but the baby was fine. Three days later I was in excruciating pain. My mother was frightened and my husband was worried. I headed back to the hospital. A nurse monitored me and the pains were sporadic, at home they were three minutes a part. They gave me medication to stop contractions and ordered me admitted for observation. I continued having pain, they weren’t as intense a lot of the time, but they never truly went away. I was checked every so often and the cerclage was still closed. I wondered if I would end up spending sixteen weeks in the hospital. I wondered if things would go okay. I tried to stay calm and looked forward to visiting hours where I would hold on to Charles, not wanting to let him go. My mother and aunt and sister and everyone would pop in whenever to keep my spirits up. Sunday evening, four days after being admitted, the pains were hot.

My aunt asked my mother if that wasn’t active labour. My mother said she felt so, but they kept saying no. The pains were worse at night and I barely slept. They injected me with painkillers that wore off in an hour. I dreaded evenings. The specialist came round on rounds Monday morning, he had plans on discharging me Tuesday morning. I had gone for an ultrasound and they were waiting on the results to get back and if everything was okay, I would have to monitor the pain closely at home. They couldn’t find anything wrong. I was worried. The ultrasound made me uncomfortable because the baby’s head was locked against my pelvis and she would only wiggle her arms and legs a little bit. That night I had crampy pains like I needed to use the bathroom after my mom and husband left. My mom was worried about the crampiness of the pains, but I assured once I used the bathroom I would be fine.

I waddled in, thankful that I was in the bed by the door and sat down. When I stood up I felt something protruding. I screamed and yanked the emergency string on the wall after reaching down and stroking what felt like a head. The nurses came and claimed they couldn’t see anything, they got me in bed and rang downstairs to the labour ward. I was whisked down there in a wheelchair and immediately examined and had my stitch cut. I had dilated to five centimeters with it in. My water broke when the scissors snapped the stitch. I was bawling. I was terrified, once the water broke, I knew there was no turning back. There was nothing now that could be done. They couldn’t find a heartbeat and I was sinking slowly into despair. My first child, our first child, gone?

A nurse sat with me for a while as we waited on the doctor, the pains returned to full strength since I missed my meds for that evening. I managed to get someone to call home and my mother was there before I gave birth. She waited and worried. I was her baby. And though this was her eleventh grandchild, it didn’t matter. I was the last child and the last to start having kids, we all lived together and she and I were close. Cherith Jalynn was born at 10.50pm, one push gave us her head, one started her shoulders, and that was it. She mewed loudly and I sighed in relief. I watch them fight to stabilize her to get her to the NICU, my mom got to see her as she was wheeled past. She looked exactly like her father and was swatting at the hands that sought to keep her alive.

In the morning, one of the doctors was kind enough to come and tell me she was stabilized, that was when I went to sleep. I stayed up the whole night scared. The doctor came on rounds again and was about to tell me what he found out from the ultrasound when he saw in my notes I had had the baby. He looked at me and said, “You had the baby?” I confirmed it and laughed. He said the ultrasound showed that she was engaged. He discharged me and I gathered my stuff to go out to my family who was waiting and we headed down to the NICU.

The NICU was a whole other adventure, fourteen weeks of two visits a day, kangaroo care, fights at home with my husband as we dealt with this whole thing so new to us, Cherith triumphed and fought like a trooper through things with dire predicted outcomes. But, the blood yeast that kept returning, the grade three head bleed, oxygen blindness, asthma diagnosis from intense ventilation, and other things overwhelmed her 23 gestational age body. She did awesome during visits, her sats and stats were up. She knew us.

Monday, 15 December, five days after my birthday, we got a call in the wee hours of the morning. We sat with her for hours. My mother came and “switched off” with my husband who went to work. That was his way of dealing, by keeping busy. I went home around 7:30am feeling intensely nauseated and exhausted. I actually felt like I would pass out sitting there. At home I took a nap and awoke to the phone ringing. I was asked to come back in. Her incubator wasn’t where we left it, I couldn’t see her in the room. The doctor spoke with us and numbly I asked to use the phone. I called my best friend’s mother after calling my husband.

I only said two words, “She’s gone.”

My husband sped there, but wouldn’t hold her. At first I wouldn’t but one of the nurses I had grown close to gently blocked my attempt at exiting. She said it was important for closure. My mother picked her up, and I burst into tears. This was her first time holding her because only parents were allowed to hold the babies, though grandparents were allowed to visit.

My mother sat with her and bent over, her body wracked with sobs, I felt in that moment like I had disappointed her some how. She handed Cherith to me, and just looked at her. I was thankful to have gotten to know her, and thought of those who miscarried or had stillbirths. I knew it was hard on them, I had made a lot of friends in this experience. And I remembered to savor the days, and in that moment my heart snapped. I put her back down and opened the blanket. She had a Coke can sized indentation on her chest where the fought to revive her. I was sorry she had to go through that. But, I did ask for an autopsy. When we sat with the doctor, it turned out that she couldn’t recuperate. They said that she had been such a fighter and had given so much to overcome, she couldn’t recover.

She had me leave so that I wouldn’t see her die. That feeling that came over me, was her way of making me let go. I didn’t want to make her hang on in pain, but I didn’t know how to tell her it was okay to go. Other mothers had told me when they whispered it was okay, the babies let go. But, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bring myself to open my heart and let her pass taking that one piece of it with her.

She had me leave so that I wouldn’t see her die.  That feeling that came over me, was her way of making me let go.  I didn’t want to make her hang on in pain, but I didn’t know how to tell her it was okay to go.  Other mothers had told me when they whispered it was okay, the babies let go.  But, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bring myself to open my heart and let her pass taking that one piece of it with her.  She was born on a Monday (8 Sept – also my aunt’s birthday), died on a Monday (15 Dec), so I buried her on a Monday (22 Dec).

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Holly Lowmiller, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving Niceville, Florida

 

email: HollyLowmiller.SBD@stillbirthday.info

hollyHolly is a wife to her beloved and a mother to her glorious brood of 5.  Holly and her husband have grown their family through birth and adoption.  Holly’s motherhood journey began with a loss at 10 weeks gestation. For this reason it is her desire to support other families in their time of loss.  Holly donates her time and services to families experiencing loss.  Holly serves the area within a 25 mile radius of Niceville, Florida.

 

 

 

 

 

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Discover what the SBD credentialed doula has achieved.

The Love of Two Aunts

Told by: Jalisa

We waited over 5 years to get pregnant, and my husband and I were so excited to finally conceive.

My pregancy was so perfect and beautiful and I enjoyed every minute. My Jaisie Mariana was such a joyful and playful baby girl. She was always moving. I run a daycare from home and one morning she did not wake me up at her normal 6:30am. I thought she was sleeping in and went on to care for the other children.

By lunch time I felt that something was wrong but couldn’t leave my daycare kids alone. My sister was also headed out of town and I had her 2 girls. I began to get a crippling pain on my left side that lasted about 45 minutes. When my husband got off work he couldn’t get Jaisie to move either, like he normally could.

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After getting the girls to bed I finally headed to the emergency room solo at 11pm thinking they would send me home like the last 2 times (once heartburn and once major headaches). Around midnight the nurse tried to find her heartbeat for 15min. When she couldn’t they called in an ultrasound. The tech ran out. Minutes later a team of 5 doctors came in and said her heart had stopped. Nobody tried to save my baby! I gave birth 30hours later naturally after 2hrs of pushing on October 13, 2012 to my 6lb 1.75oz angel who was 20inches long. I had lost my first born at 37 weeks! The placenta had separated. Her cord was also tied around her arm, leg, and neck. I tested positive for group b strep which made labor painful on the right side. I ended up finding out I had choreoamneonitis; which I think came from an infection I got following a root canal I had done at 24 weeks. No one informed me until I wound up back in the hospital 2 weeks after birth with severe swelling they attributed to postpartum preeclampsia. Since I chose to bury my baby and not have her autopsied there was no way for me to prove the hospital or oral sugeons negligence. My life has been a mess since. I now suffer anxiety and depression. Especially after my sister took her own life in July. She left behind 5 kids that I am now struggling to see.Those were always my babies too. When I lost my daughter they were all I had and the father of the three girls is trying to keep them away. She tried to give me the girls because she wanted to take away my pain and had her own personal issues, but her husband would not allow it. Now she is gone too. Hope is hard to come by these days. But through all of this I have the most loving, supportive, dedicated, selfless husband there is walking right beside me.

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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.