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Blog Contest

Many mothers, and fathers too, have started special blogs in honor of our children either born via miscarriage, stillbirth, or with a fatal diagnosis.  In our blogs we share our stories and we work together to share awareness and information about helpful resources for other families.

Stillbirthday has served thousands of families, and while I personally think stillbirthday is amazing, I’d like to hear from you!  YOU have an opportunity to bring validation, healing, and even joy to hurting families – just by using the tools, the blog, you already have.

You do not need to be a loss parent to participate in this contest – if you win, you can use the prize as a gift to a loss family that you know.

Here’s what to do:

1. Write a blog post about stillbirthday.  “Tag” it however you want, but it needs to also be tagged as “stillbirthday”.  Write about what the website has meant to you, how it has helped, how you found it, whatever you’d like.  Just, share a little about how stillbirthday has impacted you.  In your post, encourage your readers to leave you a comment on your post.

2. Reply here with your link to your post, so I can update this article to start a list of posts for all of us to go check out.  This will increase your chances of sharing your blog with other readers here, too!

3. The blog post with the most comments wins!  You can generate comments by asking questions, such as “Have you ever experienced loss?”  “Did you feel supported through loss?”  “What sort of support would have helped you through your loss?”

The prize is going to be a surprise package that includes beautiful special baby loss keepsakes and will be mailed to the winner.  These items are being contributed by the following pregnancy and infant loss organizations:

The comments on each blog post will be counted on March 20, 2012 – the first day of Spring.

Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.  ~Doug Larson

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.  ~Anne Bradstreet

Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world.  ~Virgil A. Kraft

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.  ~Pablo Neruda

Here’s the current participants:

Emma – Given a Glimpse of Perfection (a stillbirthday post)

Hope Shout Out to Stillbirthday

Seili – A Loving Place

Hannah – The Blessing of a Photo

Molly-Honoring Miscarriage

Tesha – The Good, The Bad, The Beautiful

 

UPDATE!  The winner is Hannah, with 43 comments!   And, this is the same week as her daughter’s second stillbirthday…

Congratulations, Hannah.  I hope that winning this contest can bring just a little bit of happiness during this very sad time.  Sending you lots and lots of love, Sister. 

I also want to thank the owners of Miscarriage Blankets and More and Personalized Custom Creations for their generous participation in this giveaway, and for each mother who wrote and submitted a beautiful blogpost to be counted toward the contest.  It has been a blessing to me.

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Spiritual Warfare in Pregnancy Loss

I have long believed that there is spiritual warfare in pregnancy.  Satan cannot create life, and so why wouldn’t he be jealous of pregnancy?  It just seems to make sense.  He reveals this jealousy by making pregnancy competitive, making mothers feel superior to other women, to other mothers, and even to their husbands, making pregnancy about the woman’s achievement instead of a gift, making birth itself something to fear, making birth itself competitive, obscuring information, using the hearts of selfish people to spread dangerous and biased information to unsuspecting or gullible mothers, working in the hearts of leaders to create medical, legal and religious differences in terminology, perception and value of life in the womb, and, after the birth, feeding like mold off of the tensions, sleep deprivation and hormonal changes in the new mother, causing anger, bitterness, pride, envy, and divisiveness between friends and relationships.

I never would have thought that the same would be true for pregnancy loss.  Isn’t grief enough?

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. – Ephesians 6:12 KJV

The fact that there is so much confusion and disarray in pregnancy loss confirms one extremely important fact to me: satan is attempting – struggling – to win.  The fact that there is even any sense of conflict whatsoever tells me that he didn’t win.  No, he did not have one ounce of control over when my baby died.  God, and God alone, permitted my baby to die.  And he did not have one ounce of control over where my baby went.   God, and God alone, carried my baby Home.  If satan had control over any part of this, he wouldn’t care about whatever else he could disturb, break or destroy in the aftermath.  No, instead, satan uses pregnancy loss as a prime time to orchestrate disharmony.  Why?  Because of the incredible threat it is to him when families experience the deaths of their children but still love the God who permits it.  If you are not sure if satan really lost or not, just consider a few of these verses: 2 Chron. 20:6; Job 41:10; 42:2; Jer. 32:17; Luke 10:17-18; Rev. 20:1-3; Rev. 20:7-9.

So, what wrestling do we do?  What does it look like?  And how can we prepare for it?

Here are just some of the attempts satan uses through pregnancy loss:

  • Distance the mother from other pregnant mothers.
  • Distance the mother from recognizing the value of her baby.
  • Distance the mother from friends, family and loved ones.
  • Distance the mother from other mothers who’ve experienced loss.
  • Distance the mother from her spouse.
  • Distance the mother from herself.
  • Distance the mother from God.

Let’s take a closer look at each of these attempts:

Distance the mother from other pregnant mothers.  The stories of countless mothers reveal this: as soon as a pregnancy loss is confirmed, she doesn’t feel welcome.  She feels like a foreigner in the obstetrician’s office, she feels like she doesn’t belong in pregnant circles or groups, she feels foolish for having anything related to pregnancy in her home.  She feels envious toward other pregnant mothers, and other pregnant mothers feel uncomfortable toward her and feel as though they should distance themselves and their pregnancy from their friend.  The cunning of this is that satan takes what is genuinely a good thing – friends wanting to minimize unnecessary pain for a hurting friend – into something destructive and dividing.  To conquer this attempt, we need to raise awareness of what friends should do for a mother experiencing pregnancy loss.

Distance the mother from recognizing the value of her baby.  Political, medical and religious differences in terminology of life in the womb serve to confuse mothers and challenge aspects of themselves they never would have thought impacted by the loss of their child by pregnancy loss.  Those who support the freedom of elective abortion feel torn between their general principles and their personal experience of loss.  These mothers might worry that they may seem hypocritical.  Those who do not support the freedom of elective abortion can seem too pushy or unapproachable to the hurting mother who doesn’t share those same beliefs.  Those who believe in the reality of life and personhood from conception may worry that they may seem overly dramatic.  These societal pressures serve to thwart open communication about pregnancy loss.  Additional aspects that impact this attempt by satan include any feelings of less than enthusiasm about the pregnancy to begin with or any fears or concerns the mother had about childbearing.  To conquer this attempt, we need to allow mothers to learn about their pregnancy loss experience in compassionate but accurate terms, and allow the mother to view images of babies from every week of pregnancy so she can determine how she bonds, relates, or feels about her baby for herself.

Distance the mother from friends, family and loved ones.  Mothers face this obstacle in a number of ways.  The role of pregnancy in her family, in her culture, and in her religion impact how she interprets her pregnancy and her loss, and how others around her interpret her pregnancy and her loss.  Because of the lack of open dialogue as a society about pregnancy loss, our loved ones, who are just as uninformed and ill prepared to handle pregnancy loss as we are, are forced to resort to platitudes – expressions that are intended to bring comfort and love but instead often strike with judgement, unsolicited advice, and avoidable offense.  These words can fill the mother’s heart with a sense of isolation as she realizes how different her interpretation of her loss is from those around her, and resentment and anger as she sees how quickly others attempt to fill her with their interpretations of what she is experiencing.  To conquer this attempt, we need to have information for family and friends about pregnancy loss so that they can respond appropriately.

Distance the mother from other mothers who’ve experienced loss.  One would think that two survivors of the same kind of hurt would automatically have a deeper understanding of what the other is going through simply because they have both endured it, and that because of this deeper understanding, communication between the two of them would be clearer than communication with others who have not experienced the same kind of hurt.  This is not always the case.  Grief is not a linear process, but is one that is continually reevaluated throughout an entire lifetime.  Whatever aspect of grief a mother is in, is often the lens she uses  to perceive the rest of the world, and the language she speaks when communicating to the rest of the world.   If one mother, for example, is experiencing the blame aspect of grief, and encounters another mother who is experiencing the denial aspect of grief, the two can frustrate and hurt each other with misunderstanding.  One person’s perception of their loss and their place in grief can serve to belittle, shame, challenge or attack the other’s.  It can be a lifelong challenge to learn how to communicate with others who also grieve, but it can be extremely rewarding for those who persevere and work at it.  To conquer this attack, we need to intentionally participate in individual, partner, and group relationships with other loss mothers, in environments that facilitate positive expression and that are familiar with the different aspects, lenses, and languages of grief

Distance the mother from her spouse.  Because pregnancy is under spiritual attack, great work has already been done to distance fathers from the gestation experience as a whole.  Pregnancy is already considered a womanly experience, instead of a parental experience that includes the husband too, so steps have already likely been put in place during the pregnancy – regardless of its duration – to divide the mother from her spouse.  Additionally, pregnancy loss is something that parents are totally ill prepared for – even if they’ve had losses before.  Each parent becomes so consumed in their own reaction, that it becomes nearly impossible to extend grace to the one who we likely depend the most on.  Our spouses words, behavior and reactions can quickly and easily become the source of our greatest disappointments and deepest offenses.  Miscommunication and different grieving styles and patterns can exhaust efforts to communicate and can break apart relationships.  To conquer this attempt,  we need to intentionally learn about our own grief, the grief of our partner, the ways they are different, the ways they are similar, and the ways for them to work together.

Distance the mother from herself.  Our pregnancy loss can serve to challenge everything we thought about the simplicity and certainty of our lifelong dreams of marriage and parenting.  Aspects of grief can magnify from sadness to guilt to condemnation, or from disappointment to blame to violence.  Pregnancy loss alters a woman, in a way that will not be undone in this lifetime.  This alteration, if not cared for, supervised, and shaped with love, also has the capacity to destroy her, to fuel the deepest, darkest aspects of humanity within her.  It can manifest into the most hollow depression, the most volatile rage, and can tempt a mother to intentionally take a life – her own, or someone else’s.  To conquer this attempt, we need to value the significance and worth of ourselves, our pregnancy loss experiences, learn the stories of others, see that others have struggled through what we are also struggling through, and we need to take our feelings and temptations seriously and seek immediate counsel to work through them.

Distance the mother from God.  Of course it wouldn’t be true spiritual warfare if satan’s attempts didn’t serve to divide us from God.  Pregnancy is often experienced as an extremely spiritual time, even by those who do not believe in God.  It is a time of feeling the wonder and sensing the magic of creation.  Pregnancy is a gift.  Pregnancy is a promise – but unfortunately it is a promise that is terribly misunderstood and filled instead with expectation and naivety, even among the strongest Christians.  Pregnancy loss can feel like rejection, and can fill the mother with complicated feelings like shame, embarassment, foolishness, and resentment.  It can cause a mother to distrust God.  It can cause a mother to take her anger out on God.  It can cause a mother to reject God.  This stronghold that satan wishes to have on the grieving mother is especially unique in that it can single-handedly impact every other attempt he uses to strike against her.  It is for this reason that the spiritual health of the grieving mother must become a priority in care.  To conquer this attempt, we need to intentionally seek God through our loss, to speak to us regarding every aspect, every situation, every part of our experience, and we need to share His truths with other grieving mothers.

“Get away from me, Satan! You are a dangerous trap to me. You are seeing things merely from a human point of view, not from God’s.” – Matthew 16:23

Never Letting Go

Told by: Jaclyn

Back in 2003, I’d been diagnosed with Stage 4 Endometriosis, which left me crippled in pain, permanently damaged and disabled. I was 23 years old. I was a guinea pig for U of M and Mayo for quite a while and had been told by everyone that I’d have a less than 1% chance on getting pregnant. It was then in 2006 that I started scheduling my hysterectomy with not having any kids. (Side note: hysterectomy’s do not fix Endo as Mayo told me very strongly, and they were right. ) It turned out that I had gotten pregnant though. I think when we are told that we can’t have kids, our subconscious likes to challenge that. Ha ha. I had been dating the father for a little while, both head over heals in love and when I told him he replied saying “if this was to happen with anyone, I’m so glad it’s with you.” But as I told my doctors I didn’t get happy response. I had 7 or 8 doctors at this point and all said to terminate it because my uterus was the “uterus of a 70 year old”, totally unhabitable and I’d loose the baby right away or later and there was a good chance I could die with the baby due to complications. Me and the father talked it out and decided to go ahead and terminate the pregnancy. Shortly after that decision was made, the father started pulling away from me, but I didn’t notice because I was too upset myself with what I had to do. I had to have my friend bring me to the clinic, had to pass picketers, protesters and the most horrible things yelled to me. The doctor had to be extremely gentle with me, as to not puncture my fragile uterus or anything else like that. Well, he was too gentle because it didn’t take and I was still preggers (not taking in general is also very common. More common than you think.). The last time I talked to the father was the day after the procedure and then he left me. I had to write him a letter to tell him the new situation and I didn’t even get a reaction really. I decided that I got pregnant with the smallest chances and now a failed abortion, something was telling me to have it. So, I tried to have him. That’s what he was, a he. His due date was Feb. 20th. But the doctors were right and I lost him 5 1/2 months in. I got to hold him but no one was prepared with a camera, so I only have ultra sounds pictures. Once again, I had to write the father a letter to tell him and I didn’t get a reply, which crushed my soul even more and made everything 1,000 times worse. I did get to tell the father that he could choose the name if it was a boy, but I’ve never heard him say that he picked one out. I don’t remember a lot of it all. I’ve suppressed a lot of it on purpose. I held him for a while but the nurses had to lie to me, saying they were replacing the I.V. of saline when it was medicine to make me sleepy because I refused to let him go. I was all by myself without him. I was devastated. I went insane for quite a while after. I was just diagnosed with ptsd from it all this year. My Endo continued (and continues) to get worse, even forming into a very, very rare case of Endometriosis Extragenitalis, which is Endo not only in the regular areas but also on non regular areas too. I have it wrapped around my sciatic nerve, in and eating at my hip ligaments, tailbone and hip bones. I’m now disabled, can barley walk, in the worst pain you can imagine, and it’s inoperable and un-fixable. I got a hysterectomy in 2008, as a last ditch effort to help it that didn’t work at all. When I had it, the hospital had only one room for me to recover in avalible that I had to been in for a few days (I’m a high risk pacient with any surgery, so I had to stay.) and that was a room in the maternaty ward. I woke up from my surgery to a girl having a baby right next to me. Then others having kids in the room across the hall and to the rooms surrounding mine for the entire time I was there. The nurses and doctors felt so bad but the damage had been done. I’ve forgiven the father and we are now friends, but we do not talk about what happened at all. I had to forgive him for me to cope and move on, which I still haven’t done. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forgive him completely for him leaving me and me having to deal with this big mess by myself though. I hope one day I fully can. When I made the final decision to get the hysterectomy, all I could think of was how much I wanted my baby boy and if I couldn’t have him, I didn’t want any at all and that I didn’t deserve to have any after what I’d done to him. I still feel that way today. I think now that maybe it wasn’t meant for me to have him because my illness has only gotten worse and only will get worse and there’s no way I’d be able to care for a child. Maybe my baby’s gift to me was that I wouldn’t end up always wondering what it felt like to be pregnant.

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The Importance of Blame

After a pregnancy or infant loss, the mother is left to hold nothing but her empty womb and she’s left to try to sort through how what once was her baby’s first home has so quickly become his or her dark, empty tomb.  Reflection, trying to piece it all together, trying to assimilate this deep tragedy, these things are all vitally important to the mothers emotional and mental health.

Many mothers, not all, but many mothers who reflect on their losses experience some level of blame and accusation in their grief reaction, whether their reflection takes place immediately following their loss, or even many years later.  Here are some examples:

  • Could the nurse have foreseen complications in my labor?
  • Could the OB have known more about my baby or my birth?
  • Could the midwife have transferred me sooner?
  • If things were cheaper or more affordable, would I have made a different birth plan?  Would I have gotten more or less testing during the pregnancy?
  • If there had been more information/education available, would I have done things differently?
  • Could my family have been more supportive of me while I was pregnant or during my loss?
  • Could my employer have been more supportive of me while I was pregnant or during my loss?
  • Could __________ have been more supportive of me while I was pregnant or during my loss?

There are many reasons why this sort of reflection is important.  First, it gives passion.  This passion fuels energy and motivates the bereaved mother to find answers.  The way she interprets her past will help shape her future.  If she wonders if things could have been handled differently, it can encourage her to learn more, to share her story, and to seek change.  In short, her passion gives her purpose.  This purpose gives her the bravery she needs to share her story.  A mother simply cannot “undo” her pregnancy and the reality of her child.  In fact, as soon as she learns that she is pregnant, she begins to submit to motherhood.  This submission, in and of itself, this anticipation and emotional preparation, is grieved after a pregnancy loss.  To many mothers, pregnancy loss is impossible to hide.  It becomes a permanent part of the mother’s identity.  Being able to share her experience gives life to what was lost.   Ultimately, the passion to find purpose in her loss can sustain her through the tumultuous journey of grief.  In short, having a passion can save her own life.

Another reason this reflection is important, is that it gives other people something that they can identify with.  Not everyone is personally impacted by pregnancy loss, but we each know what it’s like to feel abandoned, to feel violated, to feel unsupported, to feel foolish or naive or vulnerable and we each know what it’s like to be let down.  When a mother says, “I wish I had known/done ___” it gives us an opportunity to reach her.  We can find that hurt in our own lives and we can relate to her.  This reflection that includes blame can serve to be a bridge of communication and feelings that unites otherwise nonrelated people and feelings.  It allows for more people to surround the mother with more aspects of love, compassion and direction for her to utilize.  This can serve to sustain her on her journey of finding and giving purpose to her experience.

When a bereaved mother exhibits that she is on this path of reflection that includes blame, we as her audience have certain responsibilities:

  • We are responsible to not force her to stop.
  • We are responsible to tell her what boundaries we expect her to honor.
  • We are responsible to tell her what will result if she violates those expectations.
  • We are responsible to trust that she will grieve how she needs to grieve and that she will move into a different aspect of her grief when it is her time to do so.

Here is an example of how this would look:

A bereaved mother presents herself to be certain that her OB’s negligence resulted in the stillbirth of her son.  The hospital where she delivered her son is near her home – it is easier for her to drive past it than it is to find a new route to avoid it.  Every time she sees the hospital, anger wells in her heart.  One day, she pulls into the parking lot.  She walks across the parking lot and as each step brings her closer to the entrance, the massive, looming building overwhelms her with vulnerability and anguish.  She pushes the button to have the elevator take her to the maternity floor.  She enters the unit, and screams at the top of her lungs “MY DOCTOR TOOK MY BABY!”  A hospital employee rushes over to her and promptly tells her firmly, “I am sorry for your loss, ma’am, but you cannot come bursting in here like this.  Let me find someone you can speak with privately on this matter.” The mother begins to protest, ready to scream again.  The employee cuts her short and says firmly, “If you continue to scream you are going to be escorted out of the building.”

Here is another example:

A bereaved mother presents herself to be certain that her midwife’s negligence resulted in the death of her daughter.  The mother uses social media as a means of communicating her feelings, and she tells other mothers to be weary of this midwife.  She writes a comment on a doula’s Facebook page, telling the mothers who are reading not to trust that midwife.  The doula responds firmly, “I am sorry for your loss, but this is not the right place to share about your grief.  Let me find a resource to help you.”  The mother replies by saying that she feels it is her job to warn others.  The doula replies, “If you have suggestions or recommendations you’d like to share, I would welcome them, but I will not allow for negative feedback on my page.  If someome specifically asks about that midwife, you can share court reports or investigations or things that are substantial.  Right now, you are putting me in a place of having to decide if your story is true or not, and that is not fair to me but especially not fair to you.  Let me get you a resource or two (stillbirthday) that can help you work through these feelings, because they are important.”

There are a few reasons why it is important to take our responsibilities in her grief seriously:

  • Grief can be volatile and the mother can quickly become suicidal.
  • Giving her our own interpretation of things cuts her journey off.  It puts the focus of her energy on blindly resenting or blindly obeying our suggestions.  In short, the focus is taken off of how she assimilates her experience, to how she feels about your interpretation of her experience (this is not only true for her listening audience, but any legal action involved in her situation can impact her grief reaction).
  • If you are not legally authorized to substantiate her accusations, you can choose to lead her to resources that will join her in her journey to substantiating her accusations, but you need to take great care in how you engage her so as not to promote magnified, irrational, explosive, uncontrollable blame or anger.

Additionally, recall the questions posed at the beginning of this article – those questions that have an emphasis in blame.  Oftentimes, the emphasis in blame is the only way the mother can really ask the questions that are on her heart – questions that are not rooted in this external blame at all, but are rooted in guilt.  Consider the comparison:

  • Should I have relied on the nurse to foresee complications?
  • Should I have picked that OB?
  • Should I have trusted that midwife?
  • Should I have made a different birth plan?  Should I have gotten more or less testing or more education/information during the pregnancy?
  • Should I have expected __________ to be more supportive of me while I was pregnant or during my loss?

These are extraordinarily tough questions – and it is NOT our responsibility to thrust these questions onto a grieving mother.  Remember, one of our responsibilities is to trust that she will grieve how she needs to grieve and that she will move into a different aspect of her grief when it is her time to do so.  It is unhealthy and frankly dangerous to force these questions onto a mother before it is her time to see them.  There are tools that she can access, which can help her through her grief, including stillbirthday and all of the resources available here.

In the end, blame can, with direction, lead to something much more substantial and an energy that is much more longlasting and effective: forgiveness and healing.

This brings me to a final point, and that is there are aspects of her grief response for which we are not responsible:

  • We are not responsible for making her recall her experiences a certain way.
  • We are not responsible for her emotional or physical reactions in her grief.
  • We are not responsible for decisions she makes on her journey through grief.
  • We are not responsible for shaping the timetable of her grief.

We cannot do everything for her, but we can do something.  And because we can do something, we should not refuse to do the something that we can do. – Helen Keller

Our family/friends section has additional resources, suggestions and tips for approaching someone who is bereaved.  You may find that section, among many here, to be helpful for additional support.

Finally, I’d like to share a personal story with you.

Last Valentine’s Day, my husband and I had three rowdy boys.  I was homeschooling, cleaning the house, washing and folding the laundry – you know, I was being a wife and mom.  My husband was working full time, waking up to an alarm clock every morning, showering in the early morning, making coffee, and leaving for work, while his family slept.  He worked, exhaustedly, sweating, pouring himself into his profession.  He came home to change diapers, help clean up the kitchen, snuggle the little ones in bed, and then listen to me share my burdens or share with him the developments in his children that he missed that day – you know, he was being a husband and dad.

So, for Valentine’s Day, he treated us both to an overnight stay at a bed and breakfast.  It was near our home, but was a place for us to just escape for an entire evening and long, lazy morning.  It was wonderfully romantic.

Part of the experience – the atmosphere – of this quaint, warm, cozy bed and breakfast was a wine tasting.  I indulged and really enjoyed the lovely flavors of the different wines.

We had a delightfully romantic evening, followed by a snuggly, lazy morning, before heading home to our children and their grandma.

I soon discovered that I had a bladder infection.

I tried all of the natural remedies I know of, and then finally went to the doctor.

He asked me if I was pregnant, and I told him that it would be too early to tell, but that I very well could be.  He gave me a urine pregnancy test, which was negative, and wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic.

I filled it at my local pharmacy.  The face in the drive through window asked if I was pregnant.  I told her the same thing, that it is too early to tell but that I very well could be.  She frowned, and handed me the small white package.  On it, printed in big, bold black ink, “Confirm Not Pregnant.”

I found out that I was pregnant soon after.  I was excited to be pregnant again!  I felt like I knew I would be.  I wrote an article on my personal blog entitled, “Cupid, My Quiver Filler”.  I didn’t tell anybody about the bladder infection.  I stopped taking the antibiotic because I was concerned about the warning on it.  The bladder infection didn’t go away, and so I rigorously tried every natural thing I could think of.  Finally, I went back to the doctor, and received another, a different, antibiotic.  This time, nobody asked if I was pregnant.

Soon after, my baby died.

For weeks, I held on to the question that the first antibiotic, which was clearly not safe for pregnancy, killed my baby.  I recalled in horror as the doctor wrote me the same prescription he had planned, even after I told him I felt like I could be pregnant.  The dark foreboding words bled through my heart “Confirm Not Pregnant.”  I couldn’t bring myself to ask – I couldn’t bring myself to know.  I carried the wonder, until I was ready to look for myself.

When I was ready, I investigated.  I called the pharmacy to find the names of both antibiotics.  I researched them.  And, I came to find out, that the cause of my baby’s death wasn’t likely to be the antibiotic – maybe, but not likely.

And so I knew what I needed to find out next.  I researched to see if an untreated bladder infection can cause a miscarriage.

It can.

I sit here now, with Valentines Day nearing, and remembering how very different things were last year.  It has been an entire year, and I am only just now able to share this.  Would my heart have been ready to hear that I played an integral role in the death of my own baby by any other means than my own?  I remember seeing my baby, my tiny, crumpled, incomplete but perfect baby sit in the palm of my hand.  I remember chanting, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” and I remember the confusion I sensed from my husband at my reaction, because I wasn’t brave enough to tell him that my own irresponsible actions played a part in the death of his baby.  He didn’t know.

When I was ready, I went back to my OB.  I told him that I wasn’t sure that the first prescription caused my miscarriage, but that I was concerned simply for the fact that it could have.  I told him that I expect him to prescribe for women who are of childbearing age and who believe that they may be pregnant as if they are pregnant whenever possible.  He said he would, that he could see how it could hurt me to always wonder, and he told me he was sorry for my loss.  And I forgave him for the possibility of killing my baby.

When I was ready, I played back that romantic Valentines Day night over in my mind.  I saw the course of events and knew for certain that I would do things differently if only I had known.  I reminded myself that I simply did not know.  It is painful – it is painful beyond comprehension and expression – to articulate knowing that I will always wonder.  But, when I was ready, I forgave myself for the possibility of killing my baby.

I can say with full certainty that I would not have reached that point if it was thrust upon me by others.  I needed my own space to grieve – as does every mother.  My own space allowed me to share in my own way, and in my own time.  I created stillbirthday, so that families can have their own space, to also explore their grief – in their own way, and in their own time.

I Carry You With Me

Told by: Lindsay

Grief, an incredibly heavy word that means something different to everyone it touches.  People push it away, tamp it down, hide from it, or lose themselves in it.  I carry the ones I’ve lost close, tucked away in that special place in my heart.

My grief is still raw from my sister, our family, losing Christian.  It’s a hot, jagged wound right in my core.  Sometimes I swear if I touched my skin on my chest it would burn from the fire of my broken heart.  Five months seems a lifetime, like he’s been gone forever.  Five months is like a second, the shock of his loss still so fresh.

There is no sense to grief. No handy illustrated manual telling us what to feel, when to feel it.  We can only ride the waves out, wait for the storms to pass.  Cling to our loved ones that are still with us, hold the memories close.

My best friend and her husband buried their child.  I cannot imagine the loss, every parent’s nightmare come to fruition.  She loves that baby, loves her so much that she is forever changed. She is so gutted from losing Mary Beth; she’s trying to stop other women from going through the same thing.  Some people are resentful of this; they think her an angry misguided person.  But she is none of the things they accuse her of.  She is just a mother, going on forever with a piece of her missing.

We grieve because we love, deeply and irrevocably.  We love without restraints, and love doesn’t change because a person leaves us.  If anything, it becomes deeper, more precious. It’s all we have left of them, the love we shared.  We all go on, broken and bloody from loss and pain.  We try to make sense of something we never will, until we’re gone too.

The surprise of living when they are gone, the laugher and smiles, and hope for tomorrow are what keep us plodding forward.  Through the thunder rumbling in our hearts, the rain pouring from our eyes, the wind blowing wild our thoughts, we find love and support.  We find our best friends, renew the bonds of family and friends, and stave of the loneliness with the only reason we live.  Love.

…I carry you in my heart.

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.