You are here: Home / Archives for Heidi Faith

Pregnancy Loss Support Survey

May 9, 2012 by 14 Comments

Pregnancy and infant loss mothers, stillbirthday wants your feedback.

May is Pregnancy Awareness Month here in the US, and so we here at stillbirthday would like to know, what have been the best – and worst – pregnancy resources that prepared you with loss information prior to your loss (so, while you were pregnant), and/or supported you during or after your loss.  If the resources you utilized while pregnant ever broached the subject of loss, we want to know about it – and how well they measured up!

To clarify: this survey is about the pregnancy resources you’ve ever used – not pregnancy loss resources.  How well did your pregnancy resources inform you about pregnancy loss?

To participate, please let us know about any resource within the following categories:

Pregnancy Books – BEST support

  • gave accurate facts, linked to support resources

Pregnancy Books – WORST support

  • gave poor statistics and very little information

Pregnancy Blogs – BEST support

  • felt connected, author was compassionate, linked to support resources

Pregnancy Blogs – WORST support

  • didn’t address loss at all or did so in a confusing and unsupportive way

Pregnancy Facebook Pages/Groups- BEST support

  • felt connected, page owner was compassionate, linked to support resources

Pregnancy Facebook Pages/Groups – WORST support

  • didn’t address loss at all or did so in a confusing and unsupportive way

Pregnancy Websites – BEST support

  • gave accurate facts, linked to support resources

Pregnancy Websites – WORST support

  • gave poor statistics and very little information

Pregnancy/Birth Methods – BEST support

  • instructor/method gave accurate facts, linked to support resources – do NOT submit the name of your personal instructor, only the name of the birth method/class

Pregnancy/Birth Methods – WORST support

  • instructor/method gave poor statistics and very little information – do NOT submit the name of your personal instructor, only the name of the birth method/class

You can submit as many votes as you’d like, for as many categories as you’d like.  Just leave a comment below, making sure you articulate which catories your votes belong to.  At the end of the month, I will fill in the categories so we can see which pregnancy resourses have the best- or the worst – pregnancy and infant loss support!

Filed Under: all, Outside Insight / P.R.

Flowers From School

May 6, 2012 by 3 Comments

written in honor of Bereaved Mother’s Day – May 6

She would be six years old.

Her mother would be waking early in the morning, to pack her a lunch and place her items carefully in a brown paper bag, folding the top over, and placing a heart sticker on the outside of the bag.

Her mother would tuck the brown paper sack into the pink, glittery back pack.

Her mother would help her pick out blue jeans with a pretty multi-colored butterfly pattern along the seam, and a purple shirt to match.

This mother would brush her daughter’s dark brown hair and tie it in pigtails with bright green hair ties.

She would see her daughter off to school, kissing her forehead and telling her that she loves her.

After school, the little girl would come bounding up the front steps, pigtails bouncing, holding a small plastic cup with a small, budding flower in it, just for her mother, with a heart scribbled in red on the outside of the cup.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” she’d say, as her mother would open the screen door, scoop up her daughter, and hug her in thankfulness.

That night, this mother would run her daughter a bubble bath, wash her hair with strawberry shampoo, and lay out Snow White panties and Cinderella pajamas.

The mother would brush her daughter’s dark, soft hair and the two of them would giggle together over something only mothers and little girls giggle about.

After the mother finished reading her a Bible story, turned on the princess night light, and tucked her into bed, she would go to the kitchen sink to finish washing the dishes, where the new flower, sitting on the window ledge above the kitchen sink, would cause her to stop and smile.

The very first Mother’s Day gift her daughter ever brought home from school.

Instead, she goes grocery shopping, and places the bags in the back seat of her car, where a booster seat with purple flowers on it and cookie crumblies crunched into it should be.

Instead, the refridgerator door is bare and shiny where sheets of beautiful scribbly artwork should be.

Instead, three feet above the floor level, the walls are all perfectly clean, where tiny smudgy fingerprints should be.

Instead of joining MOPS, she joins a support group.

Instead of calling her daughter’s Brownie leader, she emails her bereavement mentee.

Instead of going through her daughter’s bookbag to find a worksheet with a shiny gold star, and carefully placing the worksheet in a scrapbook for her daughter to treasure and to pass down to her own children someday, she opens her tiny shoebox sized container of items saved from the day her beautiful daughter was born…the day her beautiful daughter died.

Instead of dreaming of passing down her wedding dress to her daughter, she opens the tiny ziploc bag that holds her daughter’s first blanket, and quickly, she breaths deeply, trying to capture and remember every last detail of her daughter, before tightly shutting the bag again.

Instead of teaching her daughter how to write her name, she reads her daughter’s obituary.

Instead of her daughter bringing her flowers from school…

the mother….brings flowers….to her daughter.

While she wouldn’t have quite been six yet, this article is inspired by Mary Beth and her mother, Bambi. Bambi is a stillbirthday mentor and gave permission to use this photo to contribute to honoring all loss moms who’ve been walking this path of life after loss for years.
For those mothers who’ve endured bereavement for years, stillbirthday honors you.

Filed Under: all, Holidays

Forever in Our Hearts

May 4, 2012 by Leave a Comment

Told by: Robin

I was walking through the cemetery near my home in Kentucky recently and saw the tombstone of a child who was born and died on the same day. There was a stuffed Valentine’s Day bear sitting beside the grave. I stopped walking and began to cry; imagining the pain and heartbreak of the parents of that baby.  My own brother is also buried in that same cemetery. I walk by his tombstone day after day and I always look over at it; even though I try not to… The tombstone is a pinkish color so it’s hard to miss. Inscribed on the stone are the words ‘Forever in our Hearts’. My mother married at a very young age. She was only fifteen. She was only sixteen when she gave birth to her first baby; a boy she named after my father ‘Donald’. Anyway, when Donnie was only a few months old, my father came home from work to find my mother napping and my brother dead. My parents were told that their baby son died of SIDS. There was no other explanation. My mother put him down for his nap and he never woke up. I can’t even begin to imagine how my mother processed such a tragic loss; especially at such a young age. I can’t imagine waking up from a nap to find my baby dead. I can’t imagine… Sadly, my parents did not even have the money to bury their dead baby; my brother I never had the chance to meet and know. My Mammaw (mother’s mother) bought a burial plot so my parents were able to bury their baby properly. (My Mammaw is buried near him now. They are in Heaven together.) As I read through so many stories of loss on this site, I have been reminded of the loss of the brother I never knew. Back when this tragedy happened, there was no internet with loss web sites like this one. There was really no help at all; no place a mother or father could turn for help with their grief and heartbreak. My mother had to internalize her pain and find a way to go on. She does not talk about Donnie but I’m sure she thinks about him and ‘remembers’ on his birthday, death day and on Mother’s Day…

Now, my mammaw, she gave birth to five children but only two survived; my mom and her older brother (who passed away about six years ago). My mammaw miscarried one baby that was so tiny, she buried the baby in a large matchbox. The baby was buried on their farm. She also gave birth to another son and daughter; Russell and Sarah. Sarah was still- born and Russell died at 18 months. I did not realize that Russell was 18 months old when he died. I thought he was born dead like Sarah. My heart broke when mom told me he was one and a half when he died. He was walking and talking… he had the flu and the doctor gave him the wrong medicine. I can’t imagine… Sarah and Russell are buried near Donnie and Mammaw. They are all in Heaven together. Mammaw has been reunited with all of her children now except for my mom.

My mammaw lost her own mother when she was just a young girl. She raised her two brothers. Her life was so difficult but you would never have known it from the way she carried herself and reached out to others, always helping others when she was in need herself. She taught first and second grade up until I was in junior high school (the mid-seventies). She gave to others when she was in need herself. That was ‘normal’ to me and what I was taught we are to do. I can remember her always saying no matter how difficult any circumstance “God takes care of His own”. She was truly a woman of God. I’m so thankful for a godly heritage that came down through my precious mammaw. I learned so much from her about God, about life and about how to love others more than myself.

Filed Under: All Newborns / Diagnosis, Friends & Family, Prior to the 1990's, Teens

Protected: Jared’s Chair

May 4, 2012 by 5 Comments

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

Filed Under: 34 weeks, All Newborns / Diagnosis

Ignoring Our Embryos

May 1, 2012 by 19 Comments

Review and Giveaway!

Important note: there is no ‘one right way’ to grieve, or to interpret your own loss.  This giveaway challenge is specifically for the parents who have had early losses, who also feel that something has been missing in their grief journey.  If you’ve ever felt you wanted to share more about your loss but didn’t, perhaps you might be encouraged by this opportunity.  This challenge is certainly not meant to discredit your feelings if you are, in fact, OK with the ways you’ve shared or with your – or others’ – interpretation of your loss.  It can be very scary to reach out and reveal more about ourselves or to seek to change things for other loss mothers after us, but if you have ever felt a nagging desire that things were different in your own experience, know that you aren’t alone, and we can do this together.

“Miscarriages are labor, miscarriages are birth.  To consider them less dishonors the woman whose womb has held life, however briefly.”

~Kathryn Miller Ridiman, Midwifery Today 1997

Although much improvement has still to be made in regard to providing compassionate, comprehensive care to families who’ve lost children to stillbirth, even more is lacking for families who’ve experienced the loss of our children through miscarriage.

Miscarriage is quickly dismissed, even among the most pro-life, religious, and even the most compassionate of people.  Why is this?

It is because of a number of things – a few of which, though, actually lay right at the responsbility of the families who’ve lost these children.  That’s right – even I take responsibility.

Have you done any of the following:

  1. Waited to share the news of your pregnancy with others until you “knew” things would be more official?  Was there a pregnancy week or developmental milestone you wanted to make sure the baby reached before sharing the news?  Was it so that you didn’t have to burden people with the awkward news of taking the joy back?  Was it so that, just in case things “went wrong”, you wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone?  Setting up your support system by telling the good news to even just one trustworthy person places you in a position of receiving the care you deserve – in case things do “go wrong”.
  2. Kept the news of your miscarriage quiet?  Did you move on into “silent grief” believing that others wouldn’t understand what you were enduring?
  3. Shared the news of your loss by saying that it was not a loss at all, but some other clinical, non-emotional event such as an “incident”, “accident” or “medical issue”?
  4. Shared the news of your loss by saying “I had a miscarriage”?  This immediately – and very incorrectly – gives the person you are speaking with the impression that it was an event – a sudden event – that occured in the past and is now over.  They do not interpret this news with nearly the amount of the emotional, spiritual or even the physical reality that takes place.  Did you know that there are more validating ways to explain what happened?  Try one of these instead:
  • I gave birth to my miscarried baby last April.
  • My miscarried baby was born last year.
  • I have five children; four in the house, and one in heaven.
  • I gave birth to five children – one by miscarriage.

5. Shared the news of your loss by saying “I had a stillbirth?”  Particularly if you had a “late miscarriage” that was closer to the earliest stillbirth weeks (say, at 17 weeks on or so), referring to your loss as a stillbirth as opposed to a miscarriage may allow you to receive a little more of the support you deserve, but it doesn’t do anything to help out other mothers who’ve lost their children by miscarriage, and in short, you really are taking away from your own care, because it ought to align with the reality of your own unique experience.

6.  Told how many children you have – without including the miscarried one(s)?  Some mothers are completely confident in the truth that they gave birth to a miscarried baby without feeling reservations in not sharing it with others – and that is fine.  But this challenge for this giveaway is for mothers who do feel a sting, an awkwardness, a pull to share, when they hesitantly refrain from telling others about their losses.  If you’ve ever felt uncomfortable about not including the total number of children you have, perhaps now is a time to consider just trying it out.

I gave birth to my miscarried son on April 19, 2011.  Stillbirthday is in fact, his legacy – because I realized in all certainty through my experience that a pregnancy loss is in fact still a birthday.  It is still a birth – I labored, I prepared to meet him, and he was born.  It is still a birthday – it is an event that is marked in my life annually and permanently.  His birthday nears and I don’t go shopping to wrap books and toys in blue paper with green ribbons, but his stillbirthday nears and I reflect on the short time I was given with him, and what being pregnant with him meant – personally and eternally, holding his life, nurturing his tiny body as his baby heart flickered and his tiny toes developed and his tiny features changed in supernatural magnificence that only God could be the author and designer of.  Yes, my son mattered, and my son matters still.

I take this challenge with my fellow sisters and friends of heartbreak – those who’ve lost children by miscarriage.  Let us change the language we use and let us honor our children even better.

If you saw yourself in any of the above six examples, please, step out now and boldly proclaim that you will make a change.  Leave a comment at the end of this article, sharing what you will do differently.  You don’t have to go into personal details – just say “Today, I am going to (do this differently).” Those brave mothers (and fathers) who step out to determine to speak differently about our losses will be entered to win an amazing book by author Elizabeth Petrucelli.  This giveaway contest will run from May 1, 2012, to May 31, 2012.  The winner will be announced at our Facebook page on June 1.  Please enter a valid email address.

“All That is Seen and Unseen” is a raw, intimate account of a mother facing the most important and critical crossroads of her entire life – attaining her professional dream, or, embracing the gift of new motherhood for the second time.  Elizabeth – a mother and a doula – takes us through the most personal of her experiences to show us the universal truth that a pregnancy loss – at any stage – is still the death of a child.

In this book, Elizabeth shares some of her most intimate journal entries as she recounts the events that surrounded the discovery of her pregnancy, the fears she harbored, the concerns she had, and the feelings she experienced.  She takes us back to her childhood and the obstacles she faced with PCOS, including depression, terrible side effects of treatment, the challenges from her insurance company, the struggles within her marriage, to, after five years of obstacles, the birth of her first son, Joey.

Elizabeth poignantly shares her most intimate thoughts through her first trimester pregnancy and loss:

Would she kill this baby with her regret?

Underneath her regret, she expresses that there was something even more pervading – fear.  Fear of connecting with this baby – fear of losing this baby.

She shares about the pride and astonishment (both hers and her husbands) at the victory of obtaining a pregnancy without the use of fertility treatment.

Would the baby be able to rekindle what was lost in their marriage?

Would she be able to have the homebirth she dreamed of?

Sensing that her baby was in danger, Elizabeth desperately and passionately strived to provide her baby with everything she could to increase the likelihood of survival.

She believed others would think she was irrational if she shared her fears with them.

How would her son, Joey, handle the news of the death of his sister?

This amazing, powerful, personal book shows that a mother bonds immediately with her preborn baby, even when the mother faces a crossroads and is challenged to her core at the news of a positive pregnancy.  It shows that everything about the mother’s life is impacted when she discovers she is pregnant: she makes changes to her environment, her health, her workplace, her dreams for her future – everything in her life is touched by the reality of the presence of her tiny, growing baby.

Through her pregnancy and loss experiences, Elizabeth shows us what is gained in pregnancy, and what is lost when the baby dies – even when the baby dies in the first trimester.

This book also covers:

  • how fathers are also immediately impacted at the news of pregnancy
  •  the difference between grief and depression
  • the difference in grief reactions from men and women
  • the impact of grief on physical health
  • the challenges to marriage that pregnancy loss can bring
  • the impact of pregnancy, and loss, on children / older siblings
  • the short term and long term positives and negatives of miscarrying naturally versus giving birth via D&C
  • the employment / professional challenges that mothers can face from a pregnancy loss
  • the secret feelings that a newly bereaved loss mother may face toward herself and others
  • the challenges to faith that pregnancy loss can bring
  • the impact of pregnancy, and loss, on extended family / relatives and how they react
  • the importance of taking care of your emotional health through the experience of loss, including helpful tips and ideas
  • the emotional, spiritual, and physical long term effects of pregnancy loss

If you would like a chance to win this book, you can do so by participating in our giveaway opportunity! If you saw yourself in any of the six examples at the very top of this article, please, leave a comment below, stating the opportunity you have found today to speak differently about your pregnancy or your loss.  You don’t have to go into personal details – just say “Today, I am going to (do this differently).”

Examples include:

“I am going to find at least one special person I can trust to share the news with about this pregnancy, even though it is early.”

“Just today, I am going to share (maybe post on my Facebook page or some other way), that I gave birth to my miscarried baby on (date).”

“Today, I am not going to say that my loss was a stillbirth, but that I gave birth via miscarriage.”

“More often, I am going to include all of my children when asked how many I have.”

“When I speak about my loss, I will utilize opportunities to validate that it was a birth and a death, not an incident or procedure.”

“I am going to (finally) tell someone that I have given birth to a miscarried baby (I’ve never told anyone about it before).” *

*Please know that stillbirthday is a safe place to share your experience.  Just use our Share Your Story link for details.

 Those brave mothers (and fathers) who step out to determine to speak differently and help shift the paradigm surrounding miscarriage will be entered to win this amazing book by Elizabeth Petrucelli.

Click here to learn more about the book and the author.

~~~

This giveaway is now closed.  Thank you, each of you, ladies, mothers, for sharing such intimate and important parts of your hearts.  The winner is Lisa Dunn.

Filed Under: all

Tips to Talking about It

May 1, 2012 by Leave a Comment

A full term pregnancy lasts approximately 280 days.

Childbirth, for a first time mother, lasts approximately 24-36 hours.  It lasts even less for subsequent births.

Breastfeeding lasts approximately 3 years per child at the outmost, but studies continue to show that it lasts approximately 6 months to a year per child.

Co-sleeping lasts anywhere from weeks to a handful of years.

These are all topics at the forefront of pregnancy and birth education, in books, classes, and in online discussions.

Pregnancy loss lasts a lifetime.

And it is not talked about.

If you run a pregnancy or birth blog, Facebook page, or class, it is important for you to begin discussing this topic, and to do so wisely.

I understand that you might be afraid.  You might be worried that you don’t have experience on the topic, you don’t know how to start talking about it, and you don’t want to scare pregnant mothers.

I understand.

There is a way to work around these things, and still prepare your readers or your audience.  These mothers deserve to be prepared.

Here are some tips and things you can present:

1. “Now that you are pregnant, what do you say/do for a friend who experiences pregnancy/infant loss?” 

This is the easiest way to introduce the subject.  It takes the fear of loss off of the mother, but lets her find a place to share about something she may have already experienced in her pregnancy: her friend, sister, co-worker or neighbor may have experienced a loss while she was pregnant.  Stillbirthday addresses this important situation, and provides support for the pregnant mother on how to respond to her grieving friend.  Please visit our “Friends/Family” link, and scroll down to the section that gives these mothers this useful information.  Check out Birth Without Fear, both her blog and on Facebook, for her authentic and admirable approach to bereavement.  Read this article from Brio Birth.  They have broached the subject of pregnancy loss from the perspective of “What to do When a Friend Experiences Pregnancy Loss.”

2. “Does anyone feel comfortable sharing about their pregnancy & infant loss experience(s)?”

This uncovers the secret community of heartbroken mothers right within the community you already have established.  It brings you closer to them – it addresses the reality they carry alone.  It brings them closer to each other, and helps them support one another.

Please, be prepared in advance for your readers sharing their stories and/or photos of their babies.  I have endured quite a lot at stillbirthday, with people stealing photos, lying about losses, accusing others of lying about their losses, people saying horrendous things about others’ experiences and their children.  I’ve encountered mothers being blamed for their birth choices, blamed for their expressions of grief, blamed for being unsupported, and blamed for actually using their experiences for good. I’ve encountered segregation between mothers experiencing loss from different perspectives, decisions and processes.  Please, be very mindful of the opportunities you create for these things to take place, and know that when you leave a conversation open, like on a Facebook thread, these things may occur at any time.  I go to great lengths to uphold our sharing policy and to care for the stories and photos here, so that regardless of situation or interpretation, this is a safe place for everyone.  Take some time to learn about social networking and grief, and some of the articles we’ve written and the stories shared here.  You can learn a great deal, if you allow yourself to.

Offer the love you can, and be prepared to refer to others for further support.

Please, utilize stillbirthday – it is what we are here for.

3. “How can a pregnancy/infant loss be respected and treated like the birth that it is?”

This lifts the taboo.  It addresses the issue head-on, while placing the job of creativity on the mothers.  In so doing, it lets them see that loss is tragic, but talking about it isn’t scary.  It helps them to see their peers – those who’ve experienced loss – as mothers.  It helps them to know that no matter what happens, today, tomorrow, or ever, they are in fact, mothers.  It will let them come back to you later, if they ever do experience a loss, and thank you as they remember you being a place that had already spoken of the truth they experienced.

How often should you talk about loss?

If you are a blog writer, cover an article specifically on preganncy & infant loss at least once every six months or so; this will increase the likelihood that any mother will find it during the time that she is pregnant.

If you are a Facebook page owner, cover a discussion on pregnancy and infant loss at least once every three months or so; pages tend to move much more quickly than blogs, and this will also increase the chance that any mother will find it during the time that she is pregnant.

There are many, many subjects “within” pregnancy and infant loss that you can explore, including prevention, support, and healing.

More than anything, simply make yourself available to approach loss every day, any day, for any mother, any time.  Know how to support, through stillbirthday.

For additional information on discussing pregnancy and infant loss, please view our article entitled Poor Prenatal Preparation.

Filed Under: all, Outside Insight / P.R.

Poor Prenatal Preparation

May 1, 2012 by Leave a Comment

What is a pregnancy loss?

“Miscarriages are labor, miscarriages are birth.  To consider them less dishonors the woman whose womb has held life, however briefly.”

~Kathryn Miller Ridiman, Midwifery Today 1997

The actual loss that a family experiences when it is called a pregnancy loss, even in the event of a very early miscarriage, may be considered to them to be the life of the anticipated and likely hoped for child.

When you consider that many mothers experiencing even a very early miscarriage consider it to be the death of a child (regardless of kind of miscarriage, and regardless of political views or religious beliefs), it certainly seems much more staggering, sobering, and even dare shall I say important than saying

 “I had a miscarriage.”

After a woman takes a pregnancy test and discovers that she is pregnant – nay, even before this, if she is intentionally trying to conceive – she surrenders herself to the role of mother.

She changes the way she eats, the way she views her world, the way she views herself.

She plans and prepares for her child.

A child, who will reflect her in many ways.  A child who will carry on her husband’s last name.  A child who will bring joy to the family – who will continue the family.

This, and more, is not just lost, but taken, when she has a miscarriage.  It is not by her choice.  And nobody prepares her for it.

After she hears the news that her baby is dead or is going to die, she is thrust into an isolating world where no resources are available.  Her pregnancy books, classes and Facebook pregnancy pages don’t have information for her.  Her doctor is limited in the things he can say.

Nobody talked about it, because nobody wanted to scare her –

– but, in the end, nobody prepared her, either.

Instead of information, resources and support, she is given platitudes, speculation, and abandonment.

She enters into a state of grief, likely compounded by postpartum depression, and nobody around her knows how to support her.

To change this, I asked a couple of pregnancy and birth professionals and advocates who have shared about pregnancy loss with their communities of readers to help me in finding ways for more professionals and advocates to open the door to discussing this extremely important topic.

As a pregnancy/birth professional/advocate, I encourage you to take the time to read what these amazing professionals have to say to you about how to approach the subject of loss and why it is so important that you do.

Please, also visit our Tips to Talking About It, so that you can learn how to open up this extremely important dialogue with your readers – the mothers who need this information.

 

I sought out hundreds of professionals and advocates, but only a small handful had replied back that they had ever discussed loss before.  I asked them the following questions:

  • What role do you have in pregnancy/birth information (a little intro)?
  • How did you first broach the subject of pregnancy loss with your readers/community?
  • What made you feel it was important?
  • Was there anything that prevented you from sharing about it sooner?  What was it?
  • Did these fears or concerns present themselves after you did share about the subject?
  • What unexpected problems did you find after you had broached the subject?
  • Did it prove to be beneficial overall to discuss pregnancy/infant loss with your readers/community?
  • Since sharing, have you discovered that there are topics/angles within the subject of pregnancy/infant loss that you feel unable to discuss (perhaps too graphic, related to birth choices involved in the loss, feel too uninformed about, too personal for yourself or possibly readers)?

Donna replied:

“I mainly run the Volusia County Birth Network and teach women and men about how a womans body works.  To open up the subject of loss, I just put it in my bio on my website and put miscarriage info and links on my website.  I shared a lot on my Facebook page and online forums.  I felt it was important to share, becuase I had suffered loss and knew of other women who suffered loss and it seemed to be a subject people didn’t talk about – and I wanted to get it out in the open.  Lack of knowing how and where to share prevented me from discussing the topic sooner, but once I shared, I didn’t find any unexpected problems and there have been no angles or topics within pregnancy loss that I have felt unable to discuss.  It proved beneficial to share, because then I didn’t feel so alone in my loss and grief.”

 Pamela Black replied:

I am a labor and birth doula, and a private birth educator (aspiring to do groups) in Denver.  I began broaching the subject of loss by posting links to my Facebook page (which has a very small audience) and I’ve engaged in conversation with a “few” clients.  I find the subject is a tough one.  Most are very uncomfortable talking about death when they are focused on birth.  One dad recently slammed his hand on the table when I brought it up and said “we need to move on.”  I discovered during their very long +30 hour labor at a hospital that ended in a Cesarean birth that he had a grandmother die due to anesthesia for surgery.  He was totally freaked.   My biggest reason for discussing pregnancy loss is a desire for others to know there are resources and options available if they have the need.  I have found that couching it with “This most likely will not apply to you but you may find yourself one day able to take this information and be able to help a family member, a neighbor or a friend with these resources and encouragement.”  That usually helps them relax.  I also talk about nilmdts in addition to stillbirthday.  A little personal history:  My first exposure to death was my 53 year old grandmother very unexpectedly died and I was devastated – due to family circumstances she was the one person I had bonded with the most as an infant.  Then I had a miscarriage in 1974 and in 1976 had a 17 year old brother killed in a motorcycle accident.  His death devastated my mother’s life and therefore has impacted the rest of the family.   Since then I have had many relatives, friends, co-workers, etc. die.  As far as my own experience with miscarriage I openly grieved the loss in 2005 when through an “honoring life” ceremony I named him, acknowledged the profound impact his life had had on me over the years and received a “Life Certificate” that to this day means a lot to me. All that to say, I feel familiar with death and its seeming finality now escapes me.  Where there was once devastation and confusion I can only find in me peace and assurance that everything is just as it’s supposed to be.  I’ve learned that reality is kinder than my imagination and I know God to be completely in control and deeply caring.  I can only find in me acceptance and a surrender to a bigger picture that I believe will someday be revealed and perfectly understandable.  Till then I don’t need to know why, I trust.   I have been a doula for 4 years and at a birth with fetal demise once.  I sat, I listened, I cried, I hugged, I held her baby, I encouraged, I prayed …  That is all I can do and because of God’s amazing grace I feel honored to have played that small role in her life and in the life of the little one.  I don’t presume it was bigger than or more meaningful than what friends and family or even hospital staff may have done.  I do think that I am doing my part and that is quite enough. I was also honored to be a birth with a couple who had had one miscarriage and one stillborn prior to.  There was a silence when the baby was born and she didn’t cry right away while the doctor was taking a little longer than mom was comfortable with and mom anxiously asked “Is she alive?” and at just that moment she cried and both parents exclaimed (and I cry at the memory) “She’s alive, she’s alive!” They now have three children.

Dr. Pauline Dillard continued:

 “I am the executive director of the Dunamas Center where we do premarital and marriage counseling as well as childbirth education that is Christ centered, heart connecting and marriage focused. I was a birth educator and childbirth assistant for 12 years before going to graduate school in psychology. Currently my counseling work includes working with those who have had traumatic birth experiences and pregnancy loss.  The main place we discuss pregnancy loss is our Choices for a Discerning Childbirth, when we discuss life issues that affect how people approach birth. However, I am currently getting more referrals from birth professionals and other counselors with regard to pregnancy loss and trauma, and will be doing more writing on the topic in the future.  Pregnancy and birth in all forms and outcomes impacts who we are as women, wives and moms. It is a fundamental core part of who we are. I have also, always comfortable being with those in loss and trauma. I began with a particular interest in how pregnancy loss impacts the way couples would approach subsequent pregnancies and birth plans, and I wanted to help them to be confident and open to what God might have for them, and not be caught up in fear and pain when it came to future pregnancies and birth. I never faced any problems to discussing pregnancy loss. Many women are relieved to have someone to talk to who accepts their depth of loss and grief, and helps them walk through their pain and regain their footing.In fact, most of my counseling clients are relieved that I have background in natural birth and can ask them about the birth process (if it was a stillbirth), and affirm their choices, and can discuss pregnancy A & P as it might be related to a pregnancy loss. I am also able to help them with what questions they might want to explore with a care provider in the future, or if they still have questions about what happened that they may not have thought of. I am also quite open about anything they may want to talk about and can ask them hard questions without making them feel judged or put down.  I don’t have any current material on our web site specifically about pregnancy loss, but we will be adding a list of books and web sites that might be helpful. I will also be adding the topic to things I cover in counseling, and how we work with those who have had a pregnancy loss, or infertility issues, when it comes to subsequent pregnancies.”

Ilise noted:

“I run a small blog and a couple of pages and a group on Facebook that are about pregnancy and birth.   I can’t remember when I posted for the first time about pregnancy loss, but it would have been within the last six months.  Many women suffer from the loss of babies during pregnancy and birth and I’ve known friends and family that have, too. I always feel so helpless when wanting to help them, but I know they feel pain that they don’t always share and they don’t always have many places to turn for understanding.I don’t think anything really made me question sharing. Even though I know some pregnant women are hesitant to read about loss while expecting, I still felt it was important to share to give them and others the chance to decide that for themselves.I don’t really think anyone has vocally been upset by my sharing on loss. Someone once said that they wouldn’t read it right then because they were expecting, but they would keep it in mind for later.  Those who have commented, have said that it is helpful and healing to have a place of understanding and information.“

Jen (vbacfacts.com) replied:

“I am a mom who manages a website on birth options after a cesarean where I share interesting or hard to find information. When I experienced a miscarriage at 7 weeks I wrote about it.  18 months later, I decided to share it via the website. Sometimes people can find comfort knowing that someone else understands their pain.  Knowing friends who had also miscarried was helpful to me.  I decided to share my story publicly so that other women might “know” someone who had experienced it.  And for those that had not experienced miscarriage, for them to understand that women might still be in mourning months later even as they mother their children.  The pain just doesn’t go away when the bleeding stops.  It proved to be beneficial to share.  People don’t often leave comments at my site, but the comments left when I shared about loss were very touching.  I will include just a few that were shared:”

“Thanks for sharing. I’ve had 3 m/c and have 2 live children. It doesn’t get easier, each loss is unique and painful. You’re so right about how others act as if if never happened…maybe stories like this will start to change that.”

“I have also chronicled my miscarriage experiences at my blog. And I talk very openly about my miscarriages and what my current pregnancy means to me. I try and present it in a way that people won’t really feel sorry for me. I’m pretty open about it with the college students. They need to know that it is likely that they or someone they care about will experience miscarriage.”

“Funny reading this from you this week. I miscarried about a month ago, a close friend miscarried about 2 weeks ago and another dear friend lost her little one this week. Its been quite an emotional rollarcoaster…trying to move through fresh grief and having the scab ripped open over and over again while trying to be a shoulder to cry on for others. Why is it so hard to talk about in our society?  Why is it something we don’t talk about, we’re supposed to just forget it, accept it was fate and that’s all. Thank you for reminding me that I- and many other women- aren’t alone.“

Please, also visit our Tips to Talking About It article that serves to work in conjunction with this one, so that you can learn how to open up this extremely important dialogue with your readers – the mothers who need this information.

Filed Under: all, Outside Insight / P.R.

“…Not as the World Gives”

April 30, 2012 by 12 Comments

“We need to get that debris out of there.”

After I gave birth at home to my tiny but perfectly formed miscarried baby, those words still make me recoil.  It didn’t matter how amazing I thought the hospital was or how well they worked with my birth plans for my other children.  After their response to my loss, I was never going back.

{important fact: not everyone’s response to our loss is equal.}

About three months later, when I was about 10 weeks pregnant with my “subsequent/rainbow” pregnancy, I supported a client delivering at New Birth Company, a brand new local birth center.  It was so brand new, in fact, that most of the building was still under construction.  I fell in love immediately anyway – it was exactly what I had envisioned of a birth center.  I worked alongside an amazing midwife, and the lovely birth that the mama had just solidified my desires for me.   Then, after the mama’s birth, the midwife said that she wanted to find my baby’s heartbeat!  What a tremendous surprise and wonderful blessing!  I came home to tell my husband not only how amazing the birth went for the mama, but that I got to hear our baby’s heartbeat!  I told him that I definately wanted to birth there.

{important fact: not all birth centers are created equal.  Neither is every midwife.}

But, they didn’t take my insurance.

So, my children’s pediatrician recommended his friend, an OB.  Both are Christian, and I fully trust (and adore) my pediatrician, so I felt confident in the switch.

The first couple of months of the pregnancy were wrought with complicated feelings, as I explained in Irish Twins.  I really enjoyed the OB, and we discussed many of the feelings associated with subsequent pregnancy after loss, and it was nice to be open about my Christian faith and how it plays a part in my life, my pregnancy, and my healing.

At my 12 week appointment – the same week my miscarried baby died – the nurse couldn’t find a heartbeat.  I looked at my husband and the tears, oh the tears, they just spilled out as I gasped for air.

 Not again, Lord.  Please, please, please, not again.

So, I walked the long hallway, clutching my middle, praying and clinging to hope, as I was led to the ultrasound room.  Paper gown tucked, warm gel applied, and…..

…..swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh…..

…the beautiful sound of a perfect, tiny heart beating!  The ultrasound technician told us we were having a girl, but my husband quickly laughed it off.  I didn’t.  I was so overwhelmed with joy at the site of that beautiful, swishing heartbeat, and in the back of my mind, the thoughts, the wondering, of which gender my baby was, just made it all even more wonderful.

Just around the same time as we celebrated and mourned the due date of our fourth baby (November 2011), we also found out the gender of this one, our fifth baby.  The ultrasound appointment was uneventful which was a tremendous blessing.  Finally, the ultrasound technician printed out the photo that revealed the gender, placed it in an envelope, and handed it to my husband.  Then, we left.

My husband dropped me off at home, where my mother in law was spending time with our crew of kiddos.  He left and headed to the local baby store, where he opened up the envelope to discover the gender.  He laughed later and told me that he read it several times, making sure he didn’t get it wrong.

He selected some gender-specific items along with a green and yellow gift bag.  He came home and placed the bag in front of me…

…I pulled off the yellow tissue paper, and asked my oldest son what color he saw…

…and he exclaimed…

“PINK!!”

I was elated!  I screamed, and my one year old started crying, poor guy.  With three little John Wayne’s in the house, it was the first time we’d ever had pink!

Several weeks later, I submitted my birth plan with one of the OBs.  I am used to advocating for myself and helping my clients do the same, but I wondered how things would go at this particular hospital.

At 36 weeks, I began having prodromal labor.  I never did have sporatic Braxton-Hicks contractions with this pregnancy, but instead had series of contractions for several hours at a time.

I posted a little about this on Facebook.  The midwife from New Birth Company posted a reply,

“I wish you were delivering here with us!”

Oh, how I wished too!  I told her that I would, but that they don’t take my insurance.  She replied, “Yes we do!” and that was it.

I switched providers at 37 weeks.

I had a 37 week appointment with the OBs early in the morning.  I kept the appointment, and ironically, of all days, that was the day that one of them went over my birth plan with me.  She pulled it out of her papers: printed on pretty pastel paper, written in a pretty font, was my plan.  It had my name, my husband’s name, and my daughters name at the top, a scripture in the middle, and a few “wishes” at the bottom.

“And she said, ‘With the help of the Lord I have brought forth a child.'”

Now, however, my birth plan had marks written all over it.  Arrows, question marks, and conversations between doctors littered my few wishes.  The OB began to explain to me that I could have something close to my birth wishes if I were to deliver between 9am and 5pm, but if my labor starts going past 8pm and she has to start waking people up to come support me, she would become more aggressive in moving my labor along.

I have worked with the most high-risk hospitals in my area, and worked with the strictest policies and most rigid medical practices to bring my clients a comfortable blend of safety, interventions when necessary, but also comfort and joyful memories.  I had never encountered such a rigid interpretation of birth wishes before.

I asked if I could have my birth plan back, so that I could revise it.  She told me that I could not have it back.

{important fact: not every hospital is created equal.  Neither is every OB.}

A couple of hours later, I had my first midwife appointment.

She and I agreed that we were not expecting it to be very much longer before my daughter would be born.

I continued to have bouts of prodromal labor.

April 19 came, and I had another midwife appointment – it wasn’t planned this way, but it sure was a blessing.  April 19 was my miscarried son’s first stillbirthday.  In the midst of grief and joy, I was able to be surrounded by people who knew the situation intimately, who were the first to find my daughter’s heartbeat, and who understood the mix of my emotions.  And, I got to hear her heart beating again.  Of all days, it was very encouraging.

…..swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh….

What a beautiful sound.  After the appointment, I spent time at the cemetary.  It was the right place to be: sitting, crying, chatting, praying.  I needed to be there.  Processing.

April 20, her “due date” came and went.  I was still pregnant.

On the morning of April 24, I woke up to a deep, clear voice that penetrated right down to the center of my soul:

“My peace I give you, not as the world gives.”

The contractions felt pretty regular, but I had had enough prodromal labor that I didn’t keep track of their frequency.  They were definately manageable.  I logged online, and found an issue that I attempted to help resolve, while I supposed the contractions began to increase in intensity.  I held onto the message I received that morning, and just figured that God was speaking comfort to me to let me know that I can give as much as I can to resolving the issue, but that ultimately, it would be Him, in His timing, that would show the answers for anyone who took a little time to look for them.  As the issue only seemed to escalate, I logged offline and remembered that God was speaking peace into my heart.  Ironically, somebody sent me a message just that morning saying that she had a dream the night before that I would be online trying to resolve a conflict while in labor.  And, that’s exactly what happened.

At about 4:30pm my husband pointed out that the contractions hadn’t yet subsided as they had before, and he wanted to call the babysitter.  I wasn’t ready to leave yet, so I procrastinated.  The sitters came at about 5:15, and my husband was very eager to get me out the door.  I stalled, and he started to raise his voice.  I raised mine right back, and he said, “Honey, I’m just excited!  Now, let’s go!”

{important fact: even if you are sure of what is going on in your own labor, you can be wrong.  And, of course, not every husband is created equal, either.  Mine happens to be pretty amazing.}

I called the photographer.

The contractions were 10 minutes apart.

In the car, the next contraction was 9 minutes later.  We drove in the opposite direction of the hospital.  The next contraction was 8 minutes later.  We drove past another hospital.  The next contraction was 7 minutes later.  Then 6.  Someone cut us off in traffic, and my husband said, “Let me know if I need to drive on the shoulder.”  I laughed it off.  Then 5.  We drove past one more hospital – the one where we were told our fourth baby was “debris”. The next contraction was at 4 minutes.  I laughed as I began pulling my pants down a little, as the elastic on the pants band was right where the contractions were at.

We arrived at the birth center.  He walked in first, while I had a contraction on the sidewalk.  I walked in casually, and enjoyed a few pieces of a chocolate bar as the midwife came in.  A pregnant mother was signing in for a birthing class, and I laughed to her and exclaimed,

“We’re having a baby today!”

I look back on that now and realize that the lady probably thought I was totally crazy.  The midwife came in.  She checked me, and said,

“You need to let me know when you have the urge to push.”

Really? I went to our beautiful birthing suite, changed into my gown, while my in-laws got settled in.   I had a pretty strong contraction while changing, and heard the voice again through it,

“My peace I give you, not as the world gives.” 

The contractions were intense, but still manageable.  I knew God was leading my baby girl out to me.  When I came out of the bathroom, I knew this was it and told my husband, “We’re almost done.”  The midwife snapped a picture of me in my gown…

And then,

I asked if someone could dim the lights, I leaned over the bed and whispered,

“I’m pushing.”

And then, quietly and simply, our beautiful daughter was born.

The birth was so fast that the photographer never made it.

The midwife snapped a photo of us together moments after we met our daughter for the first time.  What a blessing that this very first photo turned out to be so unexpectedly pretty!  Later, a sweet friend of mine from Treasure Beans even edited it a little by writing the caption on it.

Then, the staff baked a chocolate cake, we all sang Evelyn “Happy Birthday”, my tiny, sweet daughter and I shared a lovely herbal bath together,

and then, we went home.  Mommy, Daddy, and little Evelyn Mae.

That night, Evelyn listened as I whispered stories to her, telling her all about her brothers – the three that she would meet the next morning, and the one whom she won’t meet until Jesus says it’s time to.

{important fact: pregnancy is the time when we mothers are the most interested and the most vested in our birth preparation.  Whether you are expecting a live birth, preparing for a known stillbirth, there is a difficult diagnosis involved, or you are pregnant with a “subsequent/rainbow” baby, use the time wisely.  You will likely not get every single thing you desire during or for your birth (we had all sorts of special things we had planned on using during the labor but didn’t get to), so it is best to learn now, as much as you can, about what your options are.  If pregnancy automatically equals hospital birth for you, take some time to visit the birth centers and midwives in your area.  It will give you a chance to consider including some special natural options into your birth wishes.  If you are hoping for a home birth, take a maternity tour at your local hospital just so that you will feel familiar with those surroundings.  Even if you don’t utilize their services, when else are you going to get such a chance to ask questions and get information?  Get to know all perspectives and philosophies surrounding birth.  And, regardless of what birth experience this is for you, or where you are planning on delivering, visit with our doulas and consider inviting one in on your plans and experiences.  In the end, it was extremely important for me to pray about my options and lay them all out before the Lord.  I let Him speak into my heart of mixed feelings, of anxiety and hope, about what the best plan was for my baby’s arrival, and it made all the difference.  He gave me peace, and not as the world gives.}

Filed Under: all, Getting Pregnant Again, Heidi's Pieces

Irish Twins

April 26, 2012 by 13 Comments

When two babies are born nearly a year apart, they are said to be Irish twins.  This happens when one baby is conceived three months after the other was born.

I already have one set of Irish twins.  The older of the two is going to be three years old, and the younger is heading to be a two year old.

At first, they were 5 clothes sizes apart; while one was wearing 0-3 months, the other wore 9-12 month clothes.  One was very much a brand new baby, while the other was a toddler.  Today, I can manage to get them both to wear the same sized clothes, although one is exactly a head taller than the other. They get jealous and fight with each other.  When one cries, the other cries louder.  When one laughs, the other comes running to see what all the fun is about.  They push each other down, wrestle each other, and they hug and snuggle each other too.  They love each other.

My newest baby is also an Irish twin.  She was born in April, and is the brand new baby in our home.  Yet, she is a totally different kind of Irish twin.  She and her Irish twin will never be mistaken for fraternal twins when I go grocery shopping or when I take the children to the park.  She will not have the same competition to cry louder than the sibling immediately older than her.  The two of them will not squeeze into our little children’s couch, one pulling a blanket over the other ones lap, to snuggle with their sippy cups together and watch a cartoon.

You see, last April, I gave birth to my miscarried baby.

There is a person missing from our family in our family photos.  There is a carseat missing in our car.  There is a missing stack of folded laundry, there is no leaky sippy cup dribbling on the floor where one should be, there are no memories of scooting, rolling over, lifting his head, tasting his first solid food, wrapping his tight little hand around his grandma’s finger or smiling big for his daddy.

There is an ache in my heart where fondness should be.  And yet there is hope also, where presumption would surely have otherwise resided.

My heart, and my life, are forever filled with an ache and a hope that would have never otherwise been.

I should have been pregnant with my miscarried baby until November 2011.

I became pregnant with my daughter in July 2011.

What is it like to share a pregnancy – to share time that belonged to another of my babies?

It was lonely – shortly after my natural miscarriage, I took a home pregnancy test to confirm that it was in fact, negative.  It is a terrible feeling to long for him, to miss him, to dread seeing the one, lonely line on that test, and yet knowing that the single line meant that my body had safely completed the birth of my tiny baby; to see so simply and matter 0f factly that to the rest of the world it was all over, and to know that in my heart, life without the presence of this child had only just begun.

It was angering -having to face a perfectly timed menstrual cycle, exactly 28 days following the miscarriage.  To see that my body could naturally, instinctively, do what it was supposed to do, and yet it couldn’t protect my sweet child – I felt like my body had cheated me.

It was confusing – when I saw the two pink lines for the first time with this pregnancy, where they should have remained with the former one, was bittersweet.  I was not expecting to be nor was I trying to get pregnant.  My heart was constantly challenged from the months of July to November, as I wondered what it would be like – how could I possibly prepare myself emotionally – if I not only experienced a second loss, but during the same time that I would have still been pregnant with my first miscarried baby?

It was humbling  – these two babies could not have both lived here on earth.  While traditional Irish twins are born a year apart, it is because the second is conceived three months after the birth of the first.  It would have been virtually impossible for me to give birth to one child in November 2011, and the other in April 2012.  God knows when we will be born – each of us.  He knew when my miscarried baby would be born.  He knew also when my daughter would be born.  Neither of these births are an accident or outside of His purposes.  They are both important.  So while I know of the impossibility of both of these children living here on earth, I am confident in the hope that one day they both will in fact reside in eternity together.  As impossible as it is for me to have my 5 children here, it is most certain that all 5 are made in the image of God Himself, have purposes, and have the opportunity to enter Heaven.  In fact, one is already safely there.

It was a gift – God picked the timing.  In the same month that my miscarried baby would have been born, November 2011, I also learned the gender of this baby, my first daughter.  It was a gentle, pleasing buffer from the heartbreak, the agony, the despair that overcame my heart.

It was a challenge – as if I hadn’t grown enough through the experience of losing my child, of first laboring and delivering and then burying my dead baby, I mentally prepared for facing April 2012.  April, the month that held the first anniversary – the first “angelversary” – the first stillbirthday of my miscarried baby.  April, the month I discovered that my baby was dead.  The month I saw him, motionless on the ultrasound monitor.  The month I prayed desperately, deeply, for the most important miracle of my entire life – “Please God, please, give a flicker of life.  Please let him stir.  Please don’t tell me he is gone.”  The month I understood that God didn’t ignore me, even though His reply seemed to be only silence – eery, overwhelming, my-life-will-never-be-the-same-again silence.  The month that I was told that my dead baby didn’t have value and that I could discard of him as I wished.  The month I waited for labor to begin, the month I hated myself, the month I dreaded what the end of labor would bring.  The month I knew I would face my dead child.  The month I met him – saw his perfectly formed, tiny body.  Counted his miraculously beautiful toes.  Cried over him.  Folded him into his final, miniscule bed, drove to the cemetary, saw the hole in the ground.  The hole that would hold my child.

Yes, this very same month, only one year later, is when I planned and prepared for the birth of my miscarried baby’s younger sister.  I planned to experience labor again, anticipated what the labor would bring, hoped for who I would meet at the end of it.  It is the month that I anticipated counting toes again and marvelling at God’s perfect design.  It is the month I hoped for what the end of labor would bring.  The month I knew I would face my dear child.

Would God give me this child, to enjoy in this lifetime?  Would I be able to hear her crying, bring her to my breast for comfort?  Would I clean her tiny little poopies and snuggle her in warm pajamas?  Would we need the carseat?  Would a grave hold her, or would her mother?

It is the month I knew I would need to be submissive to God’s will, and be ready for whatever outcome He ordained for our family.  I would need to let God remain in control.  I hoped – oh, how I hoped.  I hoped and wished and prayed that this April would bring joy rather than more heartbreak.

I planned as though God would give our daughter to us in this life.  And yet I accepted that His plans may be very different than that.

I didn’t have the control.  Much like the births of each of my other children, in fact including her Irish twin, I could only participate in the ways that have been permitted for me.

I prayed.  I planned.  I hoped.  I submitted.  I labored.  And then, I met her…

April 2012

April 2011

We give back to you, O God, those whom you gave to us.  You did not lose them when you gave them to us and we do not lose them by their return to you.

Your dear Son has taught us that life is eternal and love cannot die.  So death is only a horizon and a horizon is only the limit of our sight.  Open our eyes to see more clearly and draw us closer to you that we may know that we are nearer to our loved ones, who are with you.  You have told us that you are preparing a place for us: prepare us also for that happy place, that where you are we may also be always, O dear Lord of life and death.

~William Penn

Filed Under: all, Getting Pregnant Again, Heidi's Pieces

Protected: Two Heavenly Princesses

April 24, 2012 by 3 Comments

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

Filed Under: 23 weeks, Infertility / Recurrent Loss
« Previous Page
Next Page »

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

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