An Empowered Miscarriage
September 3, 2012 by 1 Comment
This is National Empowered Birth Week. Particularly today, on Labor Day (get it? labor day?), birth professionals are focusing on medical interventions in childbirth.
Medical interventions in childbirth can save lives. They can save the mother, they can save the child, they can save both.
But, sometimes, medical interventions are used, only because doulas are not used. Only because that intervention may be the go-to for the doctor. Only because it may seem easier for the nurse to suggest an intervention than to explain (at length) what other, non-medical options the mother may have. Only because the mother wasn’t exposed to learning these options prior to birth. Only because the mother never knew the extent of her responsibility, or her privilege, to participate in her labor – because nobody ever told her.
Today, as you drive past your local hospital, you may see people standing, maybe wearing blue (or the logo below), wanting to show that an empowered birth is a birth in which a mother knows all of her options – including having a doula – and including having the privilege to participate in her labor.
Having a professional doula involved in your birth choices or during your birth helps facilitate dialogue with medical providers, helps to discern what medical options are recommended for life saving care and which are suggested simply as the regular go-to of the provider.
Having a professional doula also helps to prepare you for those medical interventions that indeed are necessary, by providing comfort as you experience any of their side effects: chills, nausea, immobility. By coming alongside you to remind you that these strange sensations are normal parts of your unique labor, they speak comfort and validation to the mother: you are safe – you are not alone.
The hospital that my local birth professionals are standing by today, sparking the curiosity of passersby, provoking the general public to understand the value of doulas and paving the way to equipping more mothers to embrace the privilege to participate in their labors…
…is the same hospital that told me that my miscarried baby was “debris”. The same place where I was told to “expect a period”. Where I was told not to worry about it, because I “probably already flushed ‘it'”.
An empowered miscarriage – an empowered birth of my miscarried baby – an empowered birth of my first trimester baby – I was not welcomed to have. I was not invited to have. I was not expected to have.
I gave birth to my miscarried baby at home. An “unassisted birth,” there were no medical attendants present. This is not the best or safest birth method for every mother experiencing a miscarriage, and I certainly do not convey the message that this is the only way to give birth to a miscarried baby.
Even the most highly medicalized birth of a baby – in any trimester – is still birth, and there is still room to speak love, assurance, and respect to that mother, letting her know that she is safe, that she is not alone.
I could have needed more medical intervention. I understood entirely that a D&C might have been needed, and my desire was very much to know how to turn a “remove dead tissue procedure” into “the medically assisted birth of my beloved, miscarried baby.”
This is what our doulas (and our printable birth plans) are all about – providing support to families experiencing birth in any trimester. If you give birth to a miscarried, stillborn, or subsequent baby, doulas from every US state and all over the world are ready to provide support to you.
What’s more, we also provide a training. Are you interested in learning how to come alongside mothers giving birth in any trimester? Consider taking our SBD doula training.
Stillbirthday – a place to equip you and support you in having an empowered miscarriage. An empowered birth – in any trimester.
It’s Time
September 3, 2012 by Leave a Comment
Maybe you’ve visited stillbirthday before.
Maybe you’ve clicked the share your story tab, and thought about finally releasing it – the tension, the years of shame, the decades of self-torture and silent grief.
You’ve read articles like our recent “In Twenty Minutes” and it opened up that scarred over scab, and dug a little deeper than you thought it would.
But then you read another story, a story from a bereaved mother, and you become filled with jealousy, shame and hesitation all over again:
She seems like such a better mother than me…
Your pain mounts and you prepare to flee, as you tell yourself that a place like stillbirthday is a place only for mothers with recent losses – not mothers like you.
It’s not for mothers like you, who flushed and walked away. Who allowed yourself to believe that the experience was nothing more than a period, or that your pregnancy loss was a “mess that cleaned itself up.”
It’s not for mothers like you, who were terrified at the prospect of raising a child…
…who were at least a little but probably enormously thankful that the decision was made for you, that the tiny baby was taken before you had to figure out what you were going to do.
…who haven’t seemed to care, until now.
You tell yourself defeatedly but confidently that stillbirthday is not a place for mothers who needed time before they could look at their grief, before they could feel their grief, before they could accept their grief.
To you, I say,
It’s Time.
It’s time to see that
- You are welcome here.
- Your feelings are valid.
- You are not bound by shame.
- You and your experiences are safe here.
- You are invited to embrace the healing that awaits you through the journey of exploring your grief.
- It is never too late to open up, to share, to explore your feelings, to be a part of our community.
- Your baby is safe.
- Your baby loves you.
- You are worthy of love and respect.
- You belong.
- A pregnancy loss is still a birthday – it doesn’t go away. It is a part of you. Because it is a part of you, you are invited to be a part of stillbirthday. You don’t have to face this alone.
- You are not alone.
Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! Isaiah 49:15
Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close. Psalm 27:10
These passages are not in scripture to bring you shame and condemnation. They are there to bring you hope. They are there, because they happen. Parents do face experiences and situations in which, at the time, it seems like the only thing they can do is to push the reality of their parenthood away. These passages are in scripture to encourage you that the Lord has always embraced your child, and that you are always welcome to embrace the reality of your child as well.
Did you have a pregnancy loss years ago, and you’ve never talked about it? Have you begun to feel a stirring of emotions recently, as you reflect on that season in your life or that experience in particular?
One stillbirthday mother is celebrating her daughter Hannah’s tenth stillbirthday, by inviting others to perform an act of kindness. In so doing, she is proving that the reality of her child lives even if her child doesn’t, and that even ten years later, her child can impact the world in a positive, healing way. There is a Hannah in scripture who also mirrors this sentiment: she achingly and desperately wanted the experience of pregnancy and childbirth, and made an enormous bargain with God, just to have these experiences. Ten years later, that child, Samuel, didn’t legally belong to her, wasn’t considered her child any longer, but his birth alone changed her life and his positive impact was still a part of her.
Stillbirthday accepts the invitation to be a part of Hannah’s tenth stillbirthday, to discover that time doesn’t have to bind you in shame, but that time can bring with it the opportunity to find the freedom of sharing, of reaching out, and of healing that you deserve.
Stillbirthday extends the invitation to you:
It’s never too late for you to feel the positive impact your child has on you, and on others.
To help encourage you to see that your experience is not bound by shame or condemnation, stillbirthday invites you to share your story. From now until the end of September, all stories that are shared at stillbirthday from mothers or other loved ones who just needed time, will be entered to win the book Becoming a Woman of Freedom by Cynthia Heald, a book that further encourages you not to be bound by the shame and hesitation that rob us of opportunities to find healing.
In Twenty Minutes
August 31, 2012 by 16 Comments
In twenty minutes, a mother who has been laboring, in pain, terror, disbelief and anguish, will give one final push, and her silent, stillborn baby will be born.
In twenty minutes, a father, shocked, in horror and in terrible amazement, will watch as his lifeless child, perfect but still, is carefully swaddled.
He will watch as the doctor awkwardly and uncomfortably asks his distraught, grief stricken wife if she wants to hold this unmoving bundle of bleach smelled blanket and lifeless form.
The mother, wet from tears, sweat and blood, will be shaking, broken, overwhelmed, and will, with uncertainty, recieve her baby in her arms. Both parents will feel ill-prepared and terribly alone.
In twenty minutes, this baby’s older brother, a surviving sibling, will face weeks, maybe months of distraction and mood swings from his parents. He will wonder why mom is crying, or shouting, or throwing things for no reason. He will wonder why dad doesn’t come home from work on time anymore or why he yells at him or his mom or why his dad retreats so often to tinker in the garage.
Yes, in fifteen minutes now, an ill-prepared loved one will soon tell this mother not to worry, because at least she has the older child.
Still another ill-prepared loved one will think to tell the parents that they can try again.
The distraught father will try to protect the mother from the mounting pain, anger, confusion and devastation. He will try to minimize his grief in an effort to minimize hers.
The baby who is born will not need a carseat. Returning home from the hospital, the birth will be unmarked by visitors bringing the family a warm meal.
Verily, in twelve minutes, a volcano of emotion, tension, and destruction will be brewing in these parents hearts.
The mother will wonder why everyone she knows and loves are demanding her to be so unloyal to her feelings of sadness and loss.
She will turn against those she loves as she retreats internally, trying to lick her own wounds while filling with resentment at being ignored and overlooked.
The surviving sibling – remember him? In ten minutes, he will not know it, but the family plan to attend church this Sunday will be vanished.
After a weekend of hiding quietly in his bedroom, listening to the sounds of wailing, hushed whispers and shouting from his parents, he will return to school on Monday, confused and lonely. He will wonder if his friends think he is weird, if his parents were bad, or if he somehow hurt his mom and killed his little sister.
He will begin to wonder if his parents love him. Or if they even should.
It is true; in five minutes, each person in the family will question God, will question life, will question purpose.
They will feel that others around them are rushing them to move on and forget. Forget that their child is not alive.
They will feel that others around them don’t want them to count their child. That because nobody else knew their child, that their child doesn’t count.
These parents, this mother and father, will look upon that bundle wrapped in a hospital blanket, and will wonder if they should push it away.
They will imagine – for just a moment – that pushing that bundle away, not looking, not touching, will help them move on faster.
Will help them forget. People they know will reflect this sentiment, time and time again, in the months and years to come.
But in three minutes, their hearts will be so heavy that they won’t be able to move. They will be held there, in that moment, holding their lifeless baby.
In the United States alone,
- 600,000 mothers endure pregnancy loss through miscarriage
- 26,000 mothers endure pregnancy loss through stillbirth (source)
71 mothers today will give birth to a stillborn baby. 71 families will be changed forever, their spiritual health, relational health, marital health and even physical health will all be threatened. Illness and injury manifesting as silenced grief will affect each member of the family, causing time off of work, time out of school, and time stolen from family bonding. All 71 of these families need to know that they are not alone. That there is hope. That there is healing. That there is stillbirthday.
Every twenty minutes a stillborn baby is born, in the US alone.
It is happening,
right now.
Tell your loved ones, your co-workers, your neighbors, your medical providers, your religious leaders, that pregnancy loss is still birth.
That the birth experience is only the beginning of a lifelong process of living in grief, a lifelong quest to make sense of it and to find your place within it. That even the earliest miscarriage deserves to be honored as the birth, and the death, that it is. Tell them, tell them now:
A pregnancy loss is still a birthday.
For further reading: every minute an American baby is born via miscarriage.
The Most Beautiful Little Thing
August 24, 2012 by Leave a Comment
Told by: Dannii
On the thirteenth of September, 2011, my partner and I found out that our little girl had passed away. Within a split second it just felt like our whole world had come crashing down. One minute we where leading normal lives, the next we were getting told that our baby had died.
That day was so unbearable. I must have screamed for what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes. I couldntt believe this was happening to me. I kept thinking “why me, why my baby,why did she have to be taken away from us?” Then I got told I would have to give birth to her. The thought of that horrified me but I knew I had to go through with it. So they induced me and within an hour I had my baby. My partner actually covered my ears because he knew she wasn’t going to cry and that’s the sound I was so desperate to hear, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. When I saw her for the first time I fell in love with her. She was the most beautiful little thing I had ever seen in my life, and I thought to myself “Life is so unfair.” She didn’t even have a chance to grow; we didn’t even get to say hello to her and here we were having to say goodbye, which was so very hard to do. It’s actually coming up to her first anniversery and thats why I am choosing to share my story now thank you for taking the time to read this.
With Jesus & With Me
August 23, 2012 by 1 Comment
Told by: Amaris
I am a 22-year-old college student. I have two living sisters, and one brother. I also have another sister, her name is LeeAnn, and she is lucky enough to be in the presence of Jesus Christ and God in Heaven! 🙂 I am happy I stumbled upon this site as it was just her 23rd birthday yesterday. My Mom cannot tell people about LeeAnn as it is a painful story to tell. It is even too painful for me to reveal everything that she has told me, so all I wanted to say was that I am blessed to have a sister named LeeAnn. My Mom named me and my other sisters with LeeAnn’s name as our middle name. I am reminded of her every time I write my name on anything. She is very special to me and my family. We love her and I know I will see her someday when I go home to Heaven. She watches out for me, and she is the sweetest little girl in the world. A lot of the time when I need help she is there for me. I ask her sometimes to pray for me and then things go well for me. 🙂 I just wanted to tell you all about my sister because I want you to know what a wonderful sister I have. I also want to let you know that everything is alright. My Mom is okay, I know she hurt for a long time but my sister is safe in Heaven, and that comforts her. What better place is there to be than safe in God’s arms with Christ the King? 🙂
Growing Up
August 19, 2012 by 2 Comments
I’ve been putting it off for a few days.
Collecting clothes that my youngest living son has outgrown, to pass along to my cousin, for her son.
I knew it was coming, but I waited and delayed anyway.
Today was the day.
I went to his closet, pulled out his clothes, and scanned each item.
Some were Christmas gifts.
Some were birthday gifts.
Some were just really special.
I pulled out these clothes, enjoying these memories. Noting the great condition they were in, ready to be worn by another little boy.
And I read the tags: 12 months.
12 months.
Sigh.
My fourth child would be twelve months, soon. I would be pulling these clothes out, for him.
I would be pulling these clothes out, for him, and not thinking anything of it. They would just be clothes. They wouldn’t mean so much.
I’d grab a shirt to pull over a wriggly, giggly little boy.
But I’m not.
I’m taking them off hangers.
Taking them out of drawers.
I’m holding them, breathing them in.
Crying into them.
Then, laughing right out loud over how silly I must seem.
Folding them, and placing them into the black trash bag, to give away.
Stillbirthday is a year, because my baby should be a year.
I didn’t just have a miscarriage.
My baby died.
My child is not here.
I pray over this bag of clothes, that the boy who wears them will feel extra love. That innocence fills his days as he fills the items. That the Lord protect him. That my child would stop his lovely day for just a second, peek down onto earth, see his cousin wearing his shirt, and think, “Boy, that’s so cool.”
It brings me a joy from an unforeseen place. Somehow, my relationship with my child can deepen, and as I wish so brokenheartedly to rewind time and have him back, I can even find thankfulness in the pain.
Today, I realize, I am the one growing up.
The Art of ART
August 19, 2012 by Leave a Comment
The Maple is a very large, shady tree. If its seeds are implanted too near the mother tree, they will be overshadowed and will not grow.
In God’s perfect, creative design, the Maple produces seeds in a way that overcomes this obstacle to their fertility.
The Maple seed has a complex design, falling only when dry enough to flutter in the wind, making the veins of the dried wing carry it far enough away from the mother to best ensure its survival.
But as beautiful as the fall is, the creative design and structure of the seed is not the only factor that is involved in Maple reproduction. While a Maple can release hundreds of thousands of spinning seeds each year, the health of the tree – and of the seeds – is based on factors other than the tree itself.
Every season, every year, the Maple has a different reproductive potential, which is based on factors such as the previous winter, amount of rain during the spring, and strength of the wind in the late summer – the strongest wind carries the seeds the furthest.
Isn’t our own fertility so similar? Our ability to procreate isn’t just about ourselves. Factors larger than us are involved, factors from seasons past, and in our current season. The cold, dark winter that appears lifeless holds potential for the future. The messy, brown, mascara and tear stained cheeks of the spring season when it appears as if the prayers will never be answered. The dry, brittle summer and the seemingly unfriendly gusts of wind. They all play an instrumental role in establishing just the right environment for the seed to grow.
If you are a parent, or an aspiring parent, utilizing the God-inspired technology of ART, you may more than most feel a bit like the Maple.
It is my gentle hope that you can discover beauty and marvel at the mystery of the journey.
