Her Three Words

For nearly 3 years, we at stillbirthday have supported families all over the world through our free online resources and our professionally trained and certified birth & bereavement doulas.

On Sunday, May 4, 2014 – International Bereaved Mothers day – stillbirthday officially opened doors to a brick-and-mortar building, exclusively for families who have endured pregnancy and infant loss.

The M0M Center is a place for mothers who have struggled with fertility, endured pregnancy, infant, child or even spouse loss.  If you have endured mourning along the motherhood journey, The M0M Center has something for you.

Because an authentic journey in bereavement can include a crisis of faith, church basements that offer monthly support group space for bereaved families aren’t always appropriate – or even utilized.  The M0M Center is a safe place for support, encouragement and mentoring, as well as an expanding lending library, lovely boutique of keepsake items crafted by bereaved mothers from all over the world, and opportunities for events and activities, like resting in the prayer room or crafting in the create space.

The M0M Center accepts wedding gowns to be recreated into infant burial gowns, or flannel for the tiniest shirts and diapers.

We have keepsake boxes to distribute to local hospitals.  We are a central networking location for local doulas, midwives, photographers, chaplains, and other important resources families might utilize.

But, even more recently, I held the hand of a mother as her womb was grasping to hold her departing baby.

I never share publicly about the families I support because I have never found it appropriate or necessary to do so, and in fact it is a practice strongly discouraged by our trained doulas.

But, in this particular situation, the mother not only gave me express permission, she asked for me to write on her behalf, to convey a message shared on both her heart and mine.

Gently moving her sweeping hair off of her shoulders as she and I sat together, I asked her quietly, “Would you like a drink of water?”

“No,” she said, almost a whisper.  The first word she managed to crack in some time.

Her body shifted, she began to rise from the seat.  Her eyes met mine.  Her face looked even more pale than before, as if all her body’s blood had been moving in one direction.  Worry – nay, a worry much deeper than worry, pressed through her glance.  It met my very core, and I knew instantly what it was: fear.
“I think it is time.”

Slowly rising, looking back at where she was just seated as if to look for any trace of what she had been feeling taking place just under her faded blue jeans, she turned then in the direction of the bathroom.

A few minutes pass, I look at the clock, and I hear the few moans that deepen into a bellow just before first trimester birth.

Even on the other side of the door, the sense of transition, of exchange, of separation of life, is palpable.

And the three words.

The three words, not spoken, not asked, but, shrieked.

Shrieked, in a frenzy, of motherly feelings, of maternal hormones, of the most empty lackness and yet of the most dire importance, somehow, plunging together.

It draws me in a flash to a moment I’ve had in a very large department store.  My very precocious, energetic and shall I confess undisciplined toddler scampered off down an aisle.  With me are also my youngest child, still a baby, strapped in the cart, and my older toddler, curious of the merchandise and deep in contemplation if he will present to me the chocolate or the fruit flavored cereal.  I interrupt his thoughts briskly as I grab his hand to lead him with me in the direction of my wandering son.

Turning the aisle, precious moments go by that are lost in the shuffle of the obstacle course of people in front of me.

I can’t see my son.

Body systems change immediately – I can feel my heart quicken, my chest tighten, my jaw clench and eyesight sharpen.

I stoop down to try to identify the chubby little legs among the moving trees of strangers before me.

I call out, voice checked, calmly.  Not loud enough.  Calling his name a second time, I hear my voice rise and sharpen and know the fear is creeping in.

Pushing the cart through the crowd with more force now, knuckles pasty around the handle.

Pushing faster still.  Calling more loudly now.

When I reach the end of the aisle, with no reward for the incident, fear sharpens into terror.

Rushing now.  Trying to outsmart both the boy and the process of discovering his travels.

Whirring past the aisle ends.

Realizing I’m now also giving a mental check to the passersby.  As if in my frenzy I might be able to identify a culprit if my darling son were snatched by a predator.

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, pushing into people and screeching his name, my entire body is taken over by the ramifications of unadulterated terror.

Yes, I know what it’s like to lose a child.  It is only in this context that “loss” is applicable in pregnancy and infant loss.

Because even in the nightmare of the missing toddler, I held that cart and moved it forward, because of hope.

Hope that I could scoff at this all-consuming anguish and that, surely, my toddler is happy and safe and just beyond the breakfast cereal.

It is this experience, that washed over me in an instant, with the cry of this mother’s soul in her three, short, words.

“IS THIS HIM?”

I enter the bathroom without knocking.

I survey the birth scene quickly in my mind as I scoop down with her.  Observing such things as our doulas know to, noting to myself that I will need to keep a watchful eye on these things as entering into the emotional component of such an experience can easily become all consuming.  When a doula serves in such capacity as a lay, first trimester midwife, safety must never be forgotten, not ever.

The grocery store encounter in my mind flooding my body all over again with the same tools necessary for such a catastrophe, I breathe deeply and with a brief, almost subconscious sweep I stroke my own arm with the tips of my fingernails – effleurage – as I lower myself and sit Burmese on the cold floor, and come alongside to enter into a mother’s deepest chasm.

“IS THIS HIM?”  She repeats, her voice a shrill, high pitched octave entirely foreign to this previously composed, almost regal woman.

Interesting, that “this” is a pronoun for an object.  Her mother’s heart has cracked open and the vulnerability of such a question floods out of her.  She doesn’t know if she has her baby.  She can’t recognize him.  She can’t identify him.  What she holds might be a broken bit of young placenta – an object, an object she might otherwise discard.  Or, “this” could be a person.  Her son.

The vulnerability of motherhood is deepest in a moment such as this.

I move her hair past her shoulders again, making sure that the gesture brings with it a long stroke of my findertips down her shoulder and back.
“Let’s find out together” I whisper calmly.

This mother stops her story here, as she and I implore you, to consider that the differences between miscarriage and stillbirth are as if to say, “I am a white American” or “I am a black American.”  Diversity is worth celebrating and essential to our heritage and our joy of our existence.  Diversity is a way to honor another’s differences while confidently maintaining our own.  But when diversity is used in such a way to neglect the other’s value and only to magnify our own, it is our own downfall.

Supporing birth diversity (SBD) is a core value of stillbirthday.

Mothers give birth in the first trimester.  More often than our culture recognizes or honors.

Just as one mothers first trimester birth can hearken in the same feelings another mother has toward her living, rambunctious young child, diversity can weave seemingly unrelated experiences into a comforter soft enough we all can grab hold of, for warmth, community and love in our own darkest hour.

May this mothers three words speak into your own mother heart.

slider pictures purple

 

Bereaved but Unbegrudged

Mothers day can draw out the resentment, the bitterness, the deeper side of sadness in bereavement.

“Happy” Mothers day seems shamefully inappropriate.

After all, I am mother to a dead baby.

Who really wants to go to church, to family reunions, to anywhere, to see the expanding bellies growing under glowing faces as pregnant mothers delight in the pondering of “Does this Mothers day count with me being pregnant, or is my first ‘official’ Mothers day next year, with my baby?”

But the truth is, one thousand seven hundred fifteen pregnant mothers will give birth today,

to their babies,

who aren’t alive.

1,715.

Every day.

Even Mothers day.

And that’s just in America.

1, 715 mothers who might find stillbirthday by tomorrow.

Whose Mothers day will forever be marked by despair, darkness and grief.

Let us not mark it further with hypocrisy or such painfully shortsighted standards.

In what moment will I cross over from resentment, jealousy and bitterness into open arms, softness and love?

Does her baby need to die before I can drop my own stuff?

Today, on Mothers day, I love all bereaved mothers, but I challenge all bereaved mothers too –

I challenge you to honor your journeys by giving permission, giving grace and giving love to the mothers who aren’t in our community today.

Let us give love across the chasm, stretch beyond the valley of death, to do something exquisitely painful and profoundly significant.

Let us give softness to the mothers who are full of splendor, wonder, and pregnancy today.

We can bring education, awareness, advocacy too –

but let us, may we, bring love, unbegrudgingly.

MOM logo final

 

Nika Michaels, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving Fond du Lac County and surrounding area of Wisconsin

email: NikaMichaels.SBD@stillbirthday.info

 

Nika Headshot

 

doulalogomini

87

Discover what the SBD credentialed doula has achieved.

Nursery Set Burial Items

As part of Love Wildly, stillbirthday is collaborating with Altar Bridal and Twinkle Twinkle Noelle Star to offer several different beautiful opportunities!

Moms attending Love Wildly can have access to an awesome exclusive discount on any gown through Altar Bridal.  The vow ceremony of Love Wildly is a time for us to get dressed up and feel gorgeous together.  Wear an evening gown, bridesmaid gown or even a bridal gown for this absolutely beautiful event that will surely be a significant milestone on your journey.

After Love Wildly, you also have the opportunity to gift your gown to stillbirthday so that, through Nicolle Austin SBD, a stillbirthday doula, your gown can be reconstructed into several infant burial gowns.

 

But there’s something else on my heart, and I just want to extend the idea to see who can help, and how.

Our Love Cupboards are a way for moms to create your own local network of support, right there in your own community.  Our Love Cupboards serve multiple functions and grow as much as you want them to, through your holding and gifting maternity and newborn items into your community.

And this got me thinking.

There’s a ton of items that go into decorating a newborn nursery:

  • flat sheets
  • fitted sheets
  • dust ruffle
  • bumper (which doesn’t need to be in the crib with baby)
  • mobile
  • comforter
  • swaddling blankets
  • curtains
  • valance
  • diaper hanger
  • burp cloths
  • slings

And, there are several different pieces that are involved when baby isn’t alive:

  • blankets and clothing during the Welcoming
  • blankets and clothing during the Farewell
  • lining and pillow for casket

These clothes can be:

  • burial gown
  • bunting
  • shroud
  • blanket
  • hat/bonnet

There are also amazing organizations who make baby diapers and baby booties.

You can visit our Love Cupboards page for patterns, resources, and connections.

So here’s the question.  If you are crafty, can you create patterns to turn nursery items into farewell items?  If you can, please email your ideas and patterns to Heidi.Faith@stillbirthday.info.

nursery set

 

Quincey Anderson, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving Bellingham, Washington

email: QuinceyAnderson.SBD@stillbirthday.info

 

beautifulWelcome, love. I am happy you have found your way to Stillbirthday to help guide you through this journey, and it is a true honor to walk beside you. I began my Doula work after a wild revelation that my calling was to be with women, to empower them, and let them see their true potential. Each woman and family I walk with holds a very special place in my heart.

As a woman that loves birth, and everything about it, I also offer other services such as placenta encapsulation, postpartum meal services, henna, as well as make/sell cloth diapers! I live in Bellingham, Washington and serve Whatcom and Skagit Counties, as well as the San Juan Islands.
Please, visit my website, here: www.doulaq.com for some details. If you have any questions, or are feeling some curiosity, don’t hesitate to contact me.

 

doulalogomini.

86

Discover what the SBD credentialed doula has achieved.

Moving Gears: Return to Zero

The news we’ve been so excitedly waiting for!

Rather than limiting the scope of the film to a smaller number of theaters, the team has moved gears and are instead working with Lifetime cable television network to have the film accessible to a much, much, much larger audience.

Rather than focusing on making the biggest dollar, their focus is on sending the most accessible message.  Make no mistake, the gift of this, is ours.

There’s been talk since the beginning of the making of this film, of what the message of this movie will do to others, for us. And I want to address that, so let me say it again: the talk has been, what this movie will do to others, for us.

It’s true, a film of this magnitude will surely break silence and cross borders and unhinge taboos and open avenues of healing that have never before been created.

But as the excitement is mounting and the Lifetime premiere date is nearing (May 17!), I want to invite you, to pause, for just a moment.

To switch gears about what this movie will do and for whom.

For a very sobering moment, I want to invite you, to think, to truly think, what this movie will do for you.

For you.

To see a full, feature length film, broaching the subjects, shining on them through your own bright, television set, the subjects that have been hidden in your own heart. Tucked. Maybe shoved in there. Maybe by others. Maybe by you.

This film, it is a whisper of love. A candle, flickering gentle warmth into the coldest, darkest shadows of your soul. It whispers, that you are seen, and that even in the seeing, you are not mocked, scorned or shamed. You will be validated. You will be encouraged. You will be inspired.

poster250w

Get Together!

1.} Return to Zero will be on Lifetime television cable network on May 17. Show times vary by time zone, so please use this link for the details, and visit the Return to Zero facebook page directly.  You can also see if your area already has a “Local Leader” who may now be working to coordinate locations for the Lifetime viewing.

2.} You can take advantage of the free SBD Network if you’d like to leave messages and comment directly to others who are seeking a place to watch the film in your community.

Here’s some things you might coordinate with people to do or bring:

  • invitations for your community – placed at community centers, bulletin boards, any free public event notifications like your local radio stations, churches, counseling centers.  Just a simple card like the one below will do.
  • popcorn or other snacks
  • cans of pop or bottles of water
  • tissue – a box or a handful of individual/travel ones
  • journals and pens

 

Things you might want to include in your planning:

  • time after the movie to talk and reflect
  • both a male and female who will be comfortable leading conversation after the viewing
  • a friendly way to close the evening – this could possibly be a great way to kick start a regularly planned meeting time for all of you!
  • the link to Amazon should be available then or will be soon after, to purchase the DVD for yourself!
  • an invitation to return here to stillbirthday so we all can talk about the film!

sample

Tracy Goble, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving East Central Illinois

email: TracyGoble.SBD@stillbirthday.info

 

doulalogomini
79

Discover what the SBD credentialed doula has achieved.

We Have to Fall Together

Told by: Rebecca

We met her last autumn in that tiny Goodwill, among the shelves of books that no one had a use for any longer. She began silently passing books to our girls that she thought they’d like. She noticed our nine year old’s current fascination with weather, and located a few on hurricanes. I left my husband with the girls as I browsed past the books and into the clothing racks. I found a few peasant skirts I fancied with elastic waistbands I could alter to fit. Within a few minutes he came over to me with eyes intense. “Come here. We need to pray for this woman, together.” She shared with us that just a few months earlier her only child, a son only a few months old, had died tragically in an accident. He had choked on something at day care while she was at work. Her tired face and eyes said that it felt like yesterday. Still so fresh and raw. We listened. We grieved with her. We encouraged. And we lifted her up. We prayed together, there in the private back corner of a Goodwill.

We exchanged information, that I regretfully lost pretty quickly, and we haven’t seen her again. Until tonight.

One week and four days since our fifth daughter, Jane Malise, was born to heaven. And on the very day that marked the one year anniversary of the death of her baby boy. This was beyond coincidence. This was Providence.

She started out the conversation in the cold grocery parking lot. “Aren’t you the woman from Goodwill?” I laughed yes. We hugged.

She smiled through tears and blurted out the significance of today. I said I was so glad to see her today then. I didn’t hesitate and vomited out more words to add to the grief pot. “We lost a baby less than two weeks ago. Her name was Jane.” We hugged again.

And this time she said how glad she was to see me today. Providence.

I explained that I couldn’t have looked at her today with the heart I have now if this hadn’t happened. She said she understood. Which was so dern good to hear and know that she meant it. She did understand.

I told her how angry and hurt I am today. Yes, terribly missing my baby. But more angry at ignorant people. I’m angry that people expect me to just move on. I’m angry that out of the true goodness of their hearts they say things so extremely ridiculous and unknowingly hurtful to mothers who have lost a child to miscarriage.

Things like this: “It was God’s plan… she obviously fulfilled her purpose… God was merciful to your family in protecting you from the burden of caring for a disabled child… at least you know she’s in heaven and you’ll see her again… at least you have kids already, you should be thankful for them… buck up, don’t worry, y’all got a good track record, you’ll have another… at least it wasn’t one of your other children… at least you weren’t much further along because that would have been harder… at least… at least… at least…”

I was shivering in the parking lot tonight as we talked, but neither one of us wanted our conversation to end. We needed each other. We needed each other TODAY.

She held me as I sobbed my first real good sob since the day I saw Jane’s precious little, lifeless body on the ultrasound screen. One week and four days ago since I lay there on the exam table bleeding my littlest one out on a sheet. One week and four days since no one thought to pass along that information to the lab tech in the next room who took my blood and asked happily, “Oh, you’re pregnant! How far along are you? Is this your first?”

I just looked at her a few seconds not knowing what to say, then said just louder than a whisper, “No mam, she’s our fifth daughter.” Because she was. “I’ll always wonder who she would have been!” I heard myself saying through broken sobs as this woman in the parking lot held me tighter. She said simply, “Me too.” “I know it would have been different if I held her alive and knew her like you did your son…” I apologized. “Grief is grief,” she said.

Grief. Is. Grief.

She, this woman who held her living son, who fed him, played with him, laughed with him, soothed his tears, wiped his nose, video taped his first crawl… She saw no difference in the devastation. She saw lives lost. She saw a mother’s grief.

“What if you held the hand of a grieving mom who miscarried at 4 weeks, 6 weeks, 18 weeks or more? What if you never compared the loss of a 4-weeker to a 20-weeker? What if you never said anything that started with, “At least . . . ” What if you didn’t try to stifle her tears? What if you welcomed them? And matched her tears with your own? What if you held back any trite, easy answers that promised God’s will and promised easy comfort? What if you just wrapped your arms around her the way Christ would?

What if you made that meal, bought those flowers and wrote that card? What if you went to the hospital and sat in the waiting room for her, even if you wouldn’t see her? Just because she is your friend. Just because that’s what you do when someone is sick in the hospital or their child is dying. What if you called her child by name? What if you went to the service if they planned one? What if you helped her find a support group? What if you offered to go with her? What if you prayed constantly for that hole in her heart that will one day scab, one day scar, but will never fully heal? What if all your actions when dealing with loss of any kind, affirmed that fact that all life — ALL LIFE — is good, worthy of recognition and worthy of grief. What if you didn’t just affirm to the world that all babies are valuable — but you also affirmed to a bereaved mom that HER baby was irreplaceable, and would forever be missed?

‘A person is a person, no matter how small.'” -Rachel Lewis @ The Lewis Note [dot[ blogspot [dot] com

“We have to fall together,” she said as she brought her hands toward one another, “or we’ll fall apart.”

Suffering transcends difference. The art of solidarity. Providence. “There is a support group that a woman leads that I go to sometimes,” she said. “She lost her 6 week old baby now 30 years ago, and she uses writing to heal; uses writing prompts to lead us, guide us, and help us through where we are at and so we can help others. Would you like to go with me?” This woman in the parking lot? The same one from Goodwill? Yeah, she didn’t know that I write. That I feel the most honest me when I write. That God pricks and heals my soul when I write. And that sometimes He graciously uses my writing to encourage others.

“I’d love to,” I said, and smiled a good smile. My husband had loaded all the groceries in the back of our van while we spoke. As we began to drive away she motioned for him to roll down his driver’s window. “Take care of her,” my new friend said smiling, but with eyes that ran it deep. He always does. Jane was his girl too. You, mama-friend, you who have this wound similar, Give yourself time.

Allow yourself the sobs, and if you have other children, let them see you cry. Pray with them in that moment together. You have nothing to explain to people that don’t understand. That’s not your job. They don’t have to understand or be okay with what you need.

It doesn’t matter if they seem irritated that you had to cancel that luncheon or lesson again. Or maybe they might. Maybe they’ll be tender and say things like my husband was told tonight on the phone when he made calls for me, “Tell her to take all the time she needs; we’ll be here.” But either way- Just. Take. Time.

And find someone or someones to “fall together” with. We must know we are not alone, that how we feel is not abnormal, and that there is hope in tomorrow. Dear mama-friend who needs a voice today to bring a light of validation to your grief after miscarriage, The truth of this life lost has been ascertained. Your story as that life’s mother has been corroborated. Your grief has been found as something substantial and authentic. Your soul and body has been given the stamp of approval, the go ahead, the green light… to rest. and to bear. this. out. You are not alone.

“An Invitation to all Who Suffer Loss” {a poem by Rebecca}

We’re all there, unknowingly together there. Spread out. Feeling alone.

Our wombs bare too soon like those trees whose limbs are stripped by a harsh, early winter.

We’re all there, unknowingly together there.

But the road tapers down, drawing us closer together as we search for solidarity.

We’re all cupped there, His hands cup us together there.

Because suffering transcends difference. The invitation chimes in the dark – to see a different reality.

We are not in the wallows, the crevices between pains that no one sees as they walk by in the market unaware of our wounds.

No, we are high and lifted up with You. You see us up close and lift us up high.

You call us there, You call us together there.

To under-gird one another …because suffering transcends difference.

The invitation chimes in the dark – to see a different reality.

We are not passed over.

Wear His favor on your head as a crown, sister friend.

We are His and the hope of life is in our wombs.

Art and life will continue to pour forth again.

{dedicated to all who have walked through miscarriage or any other kind of loss, and to our sweet Jane Malise, born to heaven 2/17/14}  With love, Rebecca FromMyMountainView.com

slider pictures white

My Time in Canada

I am still trying to find words to express how very dearly the professionals in Canada have touched my heart through our time shared together.

Our event was hosted by Pam Soltesz of Heaven’s Heartbeat Childbirth Services and captured in video and photograph by {born} Calla Evans photography, serving the greater Toronto area.

I am so deeply thankful to each person who took on the storm of snow (if y’all haven’t experienced a Canadian winter, you haven’t experienced winter!).  Everything about our time together touched my heart and I am deeply thankful.

If you’re interested in joining or hosting a stillbirthday workshop, you can visit our workshops page.

 

SBD4

SBD1

SBD3

SBD_TO_0037

SBD6

SBD5

SBD10

 

 

Ashley Boren, SBD

Certified Birth & Bereavement Doula® serving Glenwood and Council Bluffs Iowa and Omaha Nebraska

email: AshleyBoren.SBD@stillbirthday.info

 

AshleyWife and mother to four boys. Four angels. Cooking up double rainbows (twins) due this summer. I stumbled upon still birthday when I lost my third angel. My first loss I went about alone. It was a shock I was in that idea that it would “never happen to me”.  It took a long time to come to terms. After months of trying again I had my 4th son and first rainbow. I was scared after a hard pregnancy. We wanted more and so we didn’t prevent anymore. We then found out a little late I was pregnant again when my rainbow was 3 months old. I found out at the worst time. Being rushed to the ER dying in pain. My tube had ruptured due to an ectopic pregnancy. I was actually dying from internal bleeding. I then realized I was not immune and things DO happen. We then suffered a still birth of my first known daugther. Then another ectopic soon after. When we had our still birth is when I finally started looking for support and help. That is when I found still birthday. I found help, support and love. As well as understanding. I was NOT alone. After working as a mentor of miscarriage, still birth and early infant loss I realized I wanted to do more. I signed up, fell in love, dove into everything just wanting to help and let others know you are NOT alone. I want to walk the path side by side with others. The same path I walked alone, until I found still birthday. I have always had a passion for pregnancy and helping others. My goal from as far back as I can remember was that I wanted to be a midwife. I hope to help and be there for others the best I can. You are not alone.

 

doulalogomini

64
Discover what the SBD credentialed doula has achieved.

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.