What my Miscarriage Taught me about Abortion

…or, why I hate being pro-life.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was this: D&C is murder.

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

It was what I was taught.

And you probably were too.

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

The blood.

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

And we’ve had it all wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

Let me tell you about those lives.

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

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

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

Will I become pregnant again, unintentionally?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll tell you who is terrified.

->Mothers enduring miscarriage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So let’s get a few things straight.

D&C is a birth method.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it has had horrendous – live endangering – consequences.

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

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

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

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

Take a look around you.

An American mother endures a miscarriage every minute.

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

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

It is with spiritual forces.  It is with intention.

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

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

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

And that intent can include any of the following:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, to the conclusion, and it is this.

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

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

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

Let me ask you again.

To the beautiful woman in the sanctuary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

stillbirthday is pro-healing.

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

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

 

 

 

A Full Moon & A Rainbow

Told by: Anne

I was almost 42wks (43 by our calendar – which my O.B. viewed more accurate) then we had a NST and Felix base HR stayed low and my midwife said if I was 4cm when she checked me she’d take me down to break my water. I was 1cm and my cervix was really posterior so she debated what to do because they didn’t want to induce and knew I didn’t either. She kindly looked at me and said “go home to whatever natural things you can to go into labor by this weekend.”

We got red raspberry tea, pulsitilla, pineapple, I was walking like a maniac, got a chiropractic adjustment, and called my acupuncturist – he couldn’t get me in that night but could Friday so if I wasn’t having steady contractions to call him. With hours of all of this into the night I didn’t even have a contraction (I had been having off and on pretty hard for a little over a week but not that night)! So Friday morning we called and headed to the acupuncturist and got there about 1:30. He was so great and was like “let’s get this baby out!” We left about 3 and by 4 I was having some hard contractions; I didn’t think I could sit in the car for the ride home. My hubs was like “Oh these are definitely the realy thing!”

By 5pm I was soaking in the tub (at my parents- big jacuzzi) and pretty much stayed there. They were really long and intense. I got out around 9 cause I felt the need to walk. Our 3yr old was funny watching me have contractions (at one point I was a bit louder then I thought and he jumped on the bed yelling “Daddy, Minimaw, Oh no Momma’s DYING!!”

We all laughed and explained I wasn’t then I decided to get back in the tub. My contractions started to space out again to 10min apart. I was so bummed and my hubs decided to make sure our house was tidy so he ran home. Within 30 min I was calling him to come back my contractions were 5min apart and I didn’t feel I could handle alone. Called my SBD affiliated doula and once my husband was back we got ready and headed to the hospital.

Full moon night and triage was almost full,  the birthing center rooms were, the regular floor almost was and they had one birth tub left. Our nurse told us that they called in a whole 1/2 shift of nurses for backup they had so many laboring moms and she was one of them!

As women came in the nurses greeted them with “Welcome to the Full Moon”.

She hooked me up to the EFM to make sure Felix’s HR was staying up and it was beautifully. She checked and I was 5cm and 90% effaced! WHOO HOO! She went out to do a couple things then came back and said a laboring mom was getting transferred from the birthing center so if I wanted to wait 30min they could have it all ready for me! Heck yeah I’d wait!

I labored in triage which was more amusing then anything but I could tell that my contractions were getting closer. My doula laughingly said that I was too happy and needed to get to the pain to get this boy out. Finally the nurse came back and said we could head to our room. YAY birth tub was all I was thinking! I was happy to discover it was the same room we had our firstborn in.

By the time we walked around the corner I stepped in the room and grabbed the wall with a contraction. It was so intense I couldn’t move. It stopped and we were all laughing again and discovered the birth tub hadn’t been put back together (just some pieces from the jets were soaking) so our nurse had to get a couple nurses to come put it back together so we could start it running since it took a bit and I was NEEDING that tub! She put my I.V. in – I had tested positive for Group B Strep. and stepped out again. Another contraction and I was sweating only to realize she put the I.V. in whileI still had my long sleeve shirt on so I was like crap! My hubs grandmother arrived then too (my mom had our oldest and my husbands grandmother had never been a part of a fully natural birth so she was really excited and honestly was a comic relief through it all cause she would nervously chat when it got quiet!). The 5th contraction after the I.V. I literally fell to the floor hands and knees and yelled “I gotta push!” My doula jumped up and yelled “nurse get Kat” (my awesome midwife) she flew out of there and Kat ran in threw a sheet on the floor and said “we can do it here just take your pants off and lets go!” I was like “what?!”and laughed! Kat asked why I wasn’t in the tub and we explained it wasn’t full yet. She was like “well let’s get you in and it’ll at least be more comfortable as it fills.”

She had the nurse undo my I.V. and I finally got that hot shirt off! The tub felt amazing, but I kept going back to my 1st sons birth which was 53hrs and thinking I couldn’t do these intense contraction for 9hrs like his. I kept telling everyone I wasn’t going to go through I couldn’t do it and they’d say “you are just keep going.” Kat never was able to check me so I was like “wait how far am I? Am I going to tear because I don’t know if I’m 10cm yet?” She just laughed and was so sweet. If my body was saying push it was ready.

After a few pushes in the tub my mind drifted to a very dark place ( I thought I had processed through as best I could the loss of Oliver) I instantly was going through every detail of pushing Oliver’s lifeless body out and holding our lifeless son. My heart started to feel squeezed. What if something happened while I was pushing and I push out another dead baby. Is he even still alive now? I couldn’t do this again. I officially told myself I wasn’t going to push anymore. I was done, I wasn’t going through with anymore. He would just stay inside where I had known him to be. My contractions stopped. They were 10min apart and I wasn’t pushing. I rolled myslf over to float and laid my head on the towel on the side of the tub (my husband held me) and I fell asleep. I felt so done.

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My husband said when the clock hit 13min he was about to ask me if I was alive and I jumped up and pushed with all my might. I felt this huge hit and drop and swore it was his head. After the contraction I was like “NOTHING CAME OUT” Kat laughed no honey nothing came out. I was mad, and depressed. Next contractions I pushed as hard as I could BAM his head, then again his body!! Kat said she had never seen water breaking to full baby out that fast in all her years of birthing!  I picked him up and just cried!

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They let me just sit in the tub and just hold relax and love on him! He was beautiful! The whole room was crying! I couldn’t believe I did it!  Zachary’s grandmother in the quiet “Well they sure do birth babies differently then the way they used to” We just cracked up!! Love her! Felix is such a great baby too. Nursing well and couldn’t care less about his loud and crazy brother!  He started breathing oddly and found out he has laryngomalacia which is not been fun and we are praying doesn’t get any worse, but no matter what he has already been so wonderful to have. I’ve had some emotional days wishing our family was actually all together and still feeling torn between two worlds but I don’t think I will ever lose that feeling since we will be two worlds apart until death unites us. Hope you enjoy our story and pictures!

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Painted in Syllables

Through the month of November, we’re going to be having a poetry and painting theme at our Facebook page, that you are welcome to participate in here at the site as well.  Each week is a new theme, with a new opportunity to share.  I purposely chose the kinds of poems to challenge and inspire us to think about our experiences from within structures we wouldn’t otherwise set.  And as an alternative, if you find this challenge inspires you to draw, color or paint, rather than drawing from words, you can share your piece as well.

So many of us may just be looking for ways to get through the holiday season upon us, and are looking to take these last two months in smaller portions.  Here, we’ll walk together, one week at a time.  We’ll do this, we’ll move forward, together.

 

Week 1

Name Acrostic

Poetry that tells about your baby’s name. It uses the letters of the name for the first letter of each line.  You can write more than one poem if you have more than one baby who isn’t alive.

 

Week 2

Verse

A single metrical line of poetry.  Share your verse about your grief journey.

Here’s two examples:

And still, I walk on…

And she gave him back to the Lord…

 

 

Week 3

Tanka or Haiku

You don’t have to have the rules for poetry just right.  These are just different kinds of poems, that’s all.

Tanka: A Japanese poem of five lines, the first and third composed of five syllables and the other seven.  Share your tanka as a thank you – to the bereaved community for our collective support, to your baby for growing you in ways you never thought possible, or in some other way, expressing thanks for the gifts you’ve needed, that you have received along this journey, or that you look forward to receiving as we all continue to grow together.

Haiku: A little shorter, so perhaps a little easier.  A poem composed of three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five morae (time of syllable).

Tanka example:

The Community

blinded in darkness                                                                                             

chasm of impossible                                                                                                                                                                                                     

grasping a flicker

a strangers familiar cry

your presence guides me

 

Haiku example:

Virtual Mourning

plug, wire, machine

glowing screen beckoning me

I am not alone.

 

Week 4

Quatrain

A stanza or poem consisting of four lines. Lines 2 and 4 must rhyme while having a similar number of syllables.  Write your quatrain about courage.  The courage you have needed to conjure to endure on this journey, the courage you have seen in others, or the encouragement you hope to inspire others with.

The lion of loneliness lurks too near, the dragon of despair forebodingly sneers

Taunted by demons that cast, that shun, that cloak and throw stones.

Preposterously ill-prepared to present myself before them

And yet, here I am, with but a grain of truth, enough: that I am not alone.

 

Giveaway

We’ll also be selecting one random participant from the month for a giveaway of a beautiful journal.  There are SO many acrostics being shared on the facebook wall; while we aim to post for you every poem shared on our wall this month, we might not be able to post every one – even if your isn’t posted by stillbirthday at facebook, you still qualify to enter the giveaway.  This is an extension from the original giveaway announcement posted at facebook so that we can really encourage you to use your creativity and write in one – or all – of these activities.

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The Privilege to Give

 

In my earliest days, in my darkest days of grief, I remember distinctly, the bitter feeling that swept over me when we sat, my husband and I, at the little cold table in the funeral home, looking at the prices of caskets.

Somehow, inherently, the feeling become present.  Almost tangible.

That feeling, that the amount of money you happen to have in your pocket on the day your baby dies, determines the worth of your baby.

Bereaved parents, you know what I’m talking about.

So in my earliest days, in my darkest days, I was feeling pretty defensive about finances, and maybe even, dare I say, entitled.  What can I say?  My feelings were raw.  I was in the chasm.

But since then, I am here.  Two years later.

I would have spent $1,000 in diapers to cover his sweet little bum by now.

And I realize, I didn’t save money by not rearing him.

I realize, I want to give.

And, where we invest our money, we invest our hearts.  Our care and attention.

We have a doula program here at stillbirthday.

It is a program that prepares those individuals willing to step into the space where birth & bereavement meet, and with academic knowledge and emotional strength, provide options, information and tools necessary to offer the strongest foundation for that family to begin their grief journey.

But oftentimes, those who have the hearts to be in that place, don’t always have the finances to do so.

I don’t want those willing, loving individuals to be held back because of finances, so for every prospective doula student who comes to stillbirthday with that willing heart but without the finances to support it, those individuals can list their names in our Student Sponsorship program.  And for doing so, their tuition is automatically reduced 50%.  That’s right, by 50%.  Because if they are willing to ask for help, I will do what I can to help.

Click the jar to be taken to our Student Sponsorship page and give.

And I know I’m not alone.

I know that there are many others, just like me, who are feeling that stirring in their heart, that prompting in their mind that says

“It is a privilege to give.”

These students on our sponsorship waiting list, they need your financial contribution.  From as little as $25, you can see your name and your contribution added to our sponsorship page – directly impacting the experiences of the newest families entering the darkness of bereavement.

For as little as $25, you can dramatically and directly make a difference.  You can bring light into the chasm.

And because I am so committed to equip these waiting students and the families they will serve, I will announce a great giveaway for every sponsor who gives the total sponsorship tuition ($125) for one student or more at the end of each month.  Not to confuse your sponsoring a student with your joining into any kind of a raffle, the details regarding the giveaway are included in this separate link.

Please, if you feel so led, come celebrate the privilege to give.

Giving of your finances will grow the investment of your love.

Click the jar to be taken to our Student Sponsorship page and give.

What will happen to your finances?

Not only will it cover the cost of equipping the student with academic supplies such as the student accounts in SBD University, but every dollar is immediately invested back into tangible service to families: M0M Center costs, toward the cost of our upcoming Android and iPhone application SBD Connect, and lowering the cost of other stillbirthday events including Love Wildly.

When mothers learn that they are pregnant, if we own a smartphone device, we might install a pregnancy application, such as one that tells us about the newest developments in the baby, or healthy food suggestions.

Imagine with me, the mother who has the ultrasound, where she discovers, entirely unexpectedly, that her baby is not alive.

Oftentimes, that mother is not only alone, but that mother is so upset that she may need to wait and have a loved one come to the doctor’s office to drive her home.

With no one there with her.

But she might have her phone.

She might have that app.

And when she goes to uninstall that pregnancy app – stillbirthday wants to be there.

We are already working with an app developer, and having an app of our own sets the platform for exponential opportunities to reach the newest bereaved mothers and families.

We are doing this, and more.

So when I ask you to give of your finances, to equip a student,

and when I tell you that your investment of love will grow exponentially,

I mean it with all of my heart.

Please, give.

Click the jar to be taken to our Student Sponsorship page and give.

 

A Warm Farewell

It is with a heavy heart but with a great anticipation that stillbirthday has accepted Angie Chelton’s official resignation from her role here at stillbirthday as a co-teacher for our doula training.

While Angelique is no long affiliated with stillbirthday, we are reminded of the enormity of pregnancy and infant loss, and the vast and expanding baby loss bereaved community.

While stillbirthday will remain steadfast in being the most accessible, most affordable, most trusted, most comprehensive training to prepare the strongest birth & bereavement doulas possible, we embrace the multiple ways, platforms, and opportunities to shape the minds and hearts of those willing to step into the difficult role of birth & bereavement support, and we recognize that Angie’s decision to provide her services under her own name may be just the right way, just the right program to reach a willing heart who would otherwise not be prepared to follow through with the call to such a role, and we do applaud her for her passion to equip professionals serving the bereaved community.  This desire is needed.  We are just as surprised as you are by the swiftness of this decision, and we would have loved to have prepared our community for more of a gradual departure, but we are confidently hopeful that her role here at stillbirthday and her exposure to the wealth of information, resources and experiences poured into our community and training has equipped her with the strong foundation of knowledgeable support she will need in her new independent role and that it will show in the love she has to bring and the integrity we hope she demonstrates through her services now and in the future.

 

 

 

 

Speak Your Dialect Giveaway

A Giveaway!

 

Of the entire year, the climactic days of  raising awareness of pregnancy & infant loss are upon us.

So I want to challenge you, I want to stretch you, to share about the aspects of your experience that are perhaps the most divisive.

We are all in this together, and we all have a right to healing.

During this week, we’ll be sharing perspectives, photos and stories, both here at the website and at our facebook page.  And four random people will be drawn from all stories and photos to receive one of the four giveaway items.

In honor of last week’s Day of the Girl, October 11, a day to recognize justice issues that girls face, I’ll be giving away three tee shirts from Project Rescue, and one copy of their book, “Beyond the Shame”.

Project Rescue serves in India, voted the worst country in the world for women.  They rescue women and children from the sexual trafficking of the red light district.

These young women become pregnant, endure miscarriage, stillbirth, give birth and endure forced abortion and all in the most horrendous of conditions.

 

I share this with you, because there are many differences among our experiences of pregnancy and infant loss: miscarriage, stillbirth, and so on.

These differences can be celebrated, but are too often divisive – becoming dark walls that trap us in and bind us to shame and unworthiness.

Here are a couple of examples:

  • A mother gives birth on the cusp of miscarriage and stillbirth.  Her baby is called a miscarriage, although she defines her experience as a stillbirth.
  • A mother contemplates elective abortion, but then has a miscarriage.  Now she feels she is to blame.
  • A mother gives birth via elective abortion, but she tells you she had a miscarriage.

 

There are many, many aspects of our experiences that can seem isolating and even shaming.  And it can seem like the furthest thing we want to do is to share these things, but I want to stretch you, I want to invite you, to consider the freeing opportunity there is in speaking into our shame.  Daring to share what others may not yet be able to, holding your hand out to them that they can be released from the bondage of isolation, that they can believe in healing, that they can trust in hope.

 

If there is an aspect to your experience that you say, “That part is just too painful, others will not understand, I am all alone” I want to reach out and take your hand.  I want to whisper to your hurting heart that you are not alone, that your dignity is intact, that there is support for exactly that very part of your experience.  And I want to ask you, if you’d consider, sharing this part with others.  You can even do it anonymously.  Our sharing page gives you my email to do so (Heidi.faith@stillbirthday.info).

 

Please share your story by using our sharing page, and all stories will be entered into our giveaway, which will close and names will be drawn on Sunday, October 20th.  This opportunity is open to every share made as a comment below, made in individual stories through our sharing page, and the stories and comments shared through our facebook page.  It is also open internationally.

And, if you do not feel there is a specific element of shame hidden in your experience, please, I implore you, stay near to stillbirthday, here and at our facebook page, over the next several days, as the stillbirthday community dares to break free from bondage holding us in darkness.  Please, be ready, with a warm heart, with lots of validation, with lots of love.  Your encouraging words enter you into the giveaway as well.

 

Come, let us cast out shame.  Speak your dialect.

Let us heal, together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the giveaway items:

I purchased the book and 3 tee shirts from Project Rescue.  Entire proceeds of these shirts go toward the needs of girls and women in brothels in India.  The shirts are red, and are in one of each size: small, medium and large.  The sizing is similar to (but in my opinion just a smidgen smaller than) men’s sizes.  The first name selected will have first choice, and so on.  If a name is selected and the tee shirt sizing does not match, arrangements will be made to get the right sizing, although the color may be different.

If you have already shared a stillbirthday story that includes this element of darkness we are shining light into, you can simply comment below with the link to your story to be entered into the giveaway.

 

Four Words to Skip

It can take a whole lot of courage to reach through darkness and ask for help.

Consider a frantic call to 911.  It might go something like this:

~~~

Dispatcher: “911, what is your emergency?”

You: (frantically blurting out the immediate situation)

Dispatcher: ****

“Please stay on the line, while I dispatch an officer to your location.”

****

There’s a certain number of things your dispatcher will do in this space.  He or she will want to get information about your environment, including the danger(s) you are in and who all might be involved.  He or she will need identifying information from you so that the officer(s) will know a little more of what to expect upon arrival.  What are you wearing?  Where are you exactly?  And he or she will want to assist in any temporary safety until the officer(s) get there – guiding with CPR, for example.

~~~

So let’s translate that to a different kind of cry for help.

“Will you pray for me?”

I’ve heard it, I’ve seen it, I’ve asked it myself.

I’ve seen people ask for help, and, I have seen other people simply assume that this is the help that someone is asking for.  And so they respond like this:

“I’ll pray for you.”

 

I’ll pray for you.

As a praying person myself, I have a few fundamental concerns with this phrase.

Because, it is a phrase.

It is a shallow response.

I’ll pray for you.

Really?  When?

Because we are so easily distracted in this fast paced world, what is the likelihood of remembering a 30 second interaction when you do carve out your prayer time?

Why does the prayer need to wait until then?

How many times will you remember to pray for the person?

What, exactly, will you be praying for?

Does the person want you to pray for them?  Does the person want you to pray for what you’re praying for?

And how is the person expected to respond?  A retort like this, in basic conversational structure, automatically elicits a “thank you” from the requestor.

Thank you.  The end.  And now we all can move on.

 

“I’ll pray for you.”

It is a response that is not only insufficient to the recipient, but for those witnesses who are trying to sort out if prayer or praying people are even trustworthy, I can promise you that they are not too entirely impressed with this shallow response either.  Not when they know what it’s like to seek real, urgent, tangible help like the 911 call example above.

It’s really about as efficient as leaving a tract as a tip for a waitress.

So, if someone has cried out for help and you have heard this cry, here is an alternative response:

“I want to know.”

Still four words, easy to lock in your mind.  Practice them aloud right now:

“I want to know.”

If it’s social media, you can send the requestor a private message.

If it’s somewhere else, call the person on the phone.  Or send them a card.

“I saw your cry for help.  And I want to know, how to pray for you.”

Like the dispatcher, you aren’t just there to answer a call, but to actually respond to it.

Invite the person to offer more details.  See how you can help in a very tangible way until stronger support arrives.

I saw your cry for help.  And I want to know, what I can do in a tangible way to support you with what you’re facing.

And if the person simply has an unspoken need, you can pray for all of the circumstances surrounding it and all the people impacted by it, and still offer tangible support.

It’s like leaving a tract if you want to, but offering 20% of the tab, too.

Because we might not live on bread alone, but Jesus sure said pretty clearly “You feed them!” in Matthew 14:15-16 (and incidentally, multiplied the bread).

 

Here’s 5 tips to skip “I’ll pray for you”:

 

  1. If someone has asked you for prayer, pray right then.
  2. Ask if there is a specific need or answer they are praying for.  “I want to know…”
  3. Let them hear, see or know what you are praying for.
  4. Ask if there is a specific need or answer that you can tangibly respond to or help fulfill.  “I was thinking…. would this be helpful to you?”
  5. Check back in with them and ask if there is an update to the situation, and start back at one.

 

You can visit our support for loved ones for more guidance in supporting your grieving loved one.

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New Students can win a New Computer

I am so extremely excited to begin the new classroom environment for our online, comprehensive birth & bereavement doula program.  If you haven’t yet checked out what our program is all about, you can view the registration information here.

 

Connecting with Microsoft a couple of months ago, Angie and I have been working hard to set the environment just right in the new classroom.  And let me just say, it is amazing.  You can click on over to Stillbirthday University to take a sneak preview at a couple of the photos taken early on in the construction process as we’ve been setting things up.

 

With all of the newest tools and resources to make the ultimate learning environment, trusting foundation, collaborative setting ever, our academically rigorous and emotionally intensive, comprehensive birth and bereavement training program has now become even better.

 

Celebrating the ways that technology  –  a simple ability to log online – can connect bereaved mothers and compassionate people from all experiences and from all over the world, we want to present you with an opportunity to receive your very own personal computer.

 

Stillbirthday is offering one Microsoft 8 Laptop complete with pink Touch Cover, for absolutely free, to one student.  The name selected will be drawn from all students registered by December 28, 2013 – this includes all students who have already completed their registration for the next session.

You might say the Microsoft RT is like the iPad, but better.

You can click here to learn more about the Microsoft 8 Laptop, and then here to learn more about the pink Touch Cover accessory, which will also come free.

Yes, in fact, this is a $430 total value, for free.

Families giving birth in any trimester have a right to be cared for with dignity, with accurate information and with compassion.  If you have a call on your heart to come alongside these families, then I am passionate about equipping you with the tools we have to prepare you.  I want you to succeed and I want families to be supported.

This is a seriously awesome giveaway, but I am seriously passionate about reaching families, and reaching those who will serve them.  Yes, I really bought these items, and yes I’m really giving them away, brand new in the box.  We’re all in this together and it is my honor that we are.  May we all remember the value in one another on this journey.

Register today for the SBD doula training.  Just visit the main registration page to learn more about the course, the content, and the complete registration process.

 

 

The fine print:

There are only 20 students per training session.  The sooner you enroll, the sooner you can reserve the class session you prefer.  Sessions start in January, April, July and October.   You can learn more about registration timeframes and sessions and link to our current roster from the registration page.

The scholarships for the January session have already been awarded, and the scholarships for the following sessions will not be determined until the middle of the January session.

If you are a sponsored student, your enrollment is counted after your sponsorship is complete.

 

 

 

 

All are Welcome Here

Please bear with me, as I try to muster the right words to express this burden of my heart.

I have been deeply heartbroken over a situation for several months now, and as the momentum has escalated in recent weeks, watching the events transpire has left me deeply and profoundly anguished.

Before I begin, I want you also to know that I have been wearily trying to prepare my heart for any backlash that I sadly anticipate may come from my sharing my concerns so publicly.  I have, in fact, already lost friends over this.  There are some who believe my position is an easy one.  It is a painfully complex and emotionally exhausting one, on any given day.  Situations like what I will share here only compound this.

You might read the recently published From the Chasm for a more in-depth look at the weight this situation has taken on my heart.

The words to begin this have been rolling around in my mind for several days, but the insult of what has taken place brings me to nausea.  My fingers tremble at the keyboard as my body quivers with a mix of disgust, disappointment, and something….  a something that is so heavy in my heart that it physically hurts to inhale.  This something is so very difficult to understand.

As I do try to rationalize the good intentions there may be behind what has transpired, as I do try to find the goodness in what it means, this something…  this very heavy something…  it is something I don’t want to look at.  I don’t want to know about.  I don’t want to learn from.  Nobody would.

This something…  it is a loss of hope.

Lest you think that I am over-exaggerating, that what took place was just a gentle loving gesture, know that I have diligently and determinedly tried to reach religious and pro-life organizations of all levels and in many, many locations.  For months.  For years.

A Christian radio station called me and said they wanted an interview.  I spoke passionately about the responsibilities of the pro-life community to raise awareness of pregnancy & infant loss support.

Do you know?  Their only hope was that I would say I enjoy listening to their radio station.

So, after I could catch my breath along with the rejection, I asked if there could be a mutual understanding:

You want to use my voice for a promotion for your radio station?  Fine, I guess.  But will you share about pregnancy & infant loss awareness?

No, of course not.  They do not promote resources or agendas outside of their own.

So, when I share with you what I am going to share, rest assured that there is a history – a long and big history – of my working on reaching churches, radio stations, ministries, institutions and organizations.

Here is my own stance, and I stand firmly behind it:

Being anti-abortion should not be the only voice of the pro-life movement.

And you are pro-life and already interjecting.  I know it.  Telling me that it’s not.  That you care about the mother, too.

I am personally, pro-life.

It is what makes this whole experience such a painful and even shameful one.

On September 14, 2013, after being ignored for months, I watched, to my deep chagrin and heartbreak, as excitement mounted through social media sites such as Facebook, as those who espouse pro-life ideologies prepared to hold the first annual, national, pro-life vigil to honor babies born via elective abortion.

They say that it’s in remembrance of the first ever official burial of babies born via elective abortion, on September 14, 1988 in Milwaukee Wisconsin.

So, that’s it, you might say.

You might sigh and lean back and think, “That Heidi, she got all worked up over nothing.”

I have sat, perplexed, wondering about this event and the possible repercussions – for better or for worse – that this might mean to the pregnancy & infant loss community.

I have puzzled over this thing for months.

And as I have received virtually no responses whatsoever from anyone I petitioned to consider what the possible negative consequences to this might be, I have been left alone to my thoughts and to my very conservative, very Christian, very pro-life prayers.

So let me share with you.  Hold on while I wipe my tears once more and plunge forward with a string of words that I hope can convey the magnitude of what this now annual, anti-abortion vigil may mean.

And let me share with you, the responsibility that will therefore be placed on your shoulders, for being privy of such information.

OK, here we go.

The anti-abortion vigil takes place just before any other national or international recognition of parental bereavement of any sort.

President Ronald Reagan (a conservative, Christian, bereaved father) signed Proclamation 5890 in October of 1988.  I don’t know when the proclamation was drafted because I filed an FOIA and instead received a lovely, heartfelt form letter from the White House congratulating themselves on their advances in women’s rights issues of reproductive freedom.  Could Proclamation 5890 have been drafted before September 14, 1988?  There is at least a slim possibility.

The anti-abortion vigil is clearly and admittedly intended to be an act of demonstration.

If we act as though these electively aborted babies are deceased babies, then it will substantiate our anti-abortion agenda.

Consider these two points, again.

  1. The anti-abortion vigil is held just before all other national and international events and memorials in honor of pregnancy & infant loss awareness.
  2. The anti-abortion vigil is a self-proclaimed act of demonstration, intended to further the purposes of the anti-abortion agenda.

Oh, my burdened heart.

The newly enforced, national annual, anti-abortion vigil has a base website as well as a Facebook page.  On the Facebook page, photos depict those who grieve elective abortion.  I get it.  But also are those mothers who gave birth via elective abortion who profess regret.

Let me articulate what we all know this to look like.

It looks like the Christian, conservative, pro-life movement is legalistic.  Like we only welcome, hug, and snap photos of, the mothers of electively aborted babies who are willing to profess their regret.  We will not condemn you, this I do believe.  But we sure make sure you know you killed your baby.

On their website, is a prayer, for the mothers of electively aborted babies.    The following passage is highlighted to stand out within the prayer:

Help us to understand

The pain that is in their hearts,

And to be a living sign to them

Of your welcome, your mercy, and your healing.

Oh, how I have sought the whisper of the Holy Spirit for clarity here.

“Help us to be a living sign to them.”

To those who hold dear the values of pro-life but who only demonstrate an anti-abortion message, I am trying to reach you.  I am trying, Lord help me, to help you understand.

You may tell me that I’m missing something.  You may tell me that all this is powerful and important.

But let me tell you what I know.

You cannot stand in a mother’s stead at a remembrance vigil and believe that you are bringing healing to her.

You are not.

Your annual event is now the kickoff into the tiny little window of time we do have to bring global recognition to pregnancy and infant loss.

You are standing there, because you are believing the mother would not be.

You are standing there, so that more people will mourn elective abortion.

But by so doing, you are facilitating the reality that less people may mourn babies.

You are standing there, and a mother may cower, drop her flowers and run, fearing that she dare not show up lest you make sure she know she killed her baby.

And when the rest of us who are bereaved, who hold candles, who hold ceremonies, who hold vigils, to honor our deceased babies, born via miscarriage, born via stillbirth, we will continue to wonder why you have created a separate vigil, a divisive vigil, a demonstrative vigil of a position instead of a person, instead of coming alongside.

We will grieve that you are anti-abortion instead of being pro-healing.

To mothers who have given birth to babies who are not alive, to mothers who have given birth to babies via miscarriage, via stillbirth, via elective abortion, may you know that we all hold important differences.  Yes, we do.  Those differences can bring a special kinship as we find those among us who mirror the closest of what our own experiences are.  But those differences can rapidly become divisive, isolating, shaming and condemning.

Elective abortion is not the same as miscarriage.

It would be a horrendous disservice to both mothers to pretend that it is.

And if I can help a mother to not take on the lifelong journey of bereavement, absolutely I would strive tirelessly to help guide her away from the path of tears.

In fact, I have and I do.

Be aware of our differences, indeed.

But may we collectively celebrate our similarities.

Grief is a language.

I speak the dialect of miscarriage.

May we honor one another’s dialect.  May we learn to honor the magnitude of the language with which we speak.  May we learn the value of stumbling forward together on this journey of life after loss.

As an individual, as a mother, I am personally, pro-life.  Not as a lofty idealism, but because I have walked through the valley and because I chose life.

 

And as the founder of stillbirthday, I am not anti-abortion.

I am pro-healing.

Pro-healing is a comprehensive stance.  It stands beyond politics and opinions and lofty idealism and demonstrations for agenda.  Pro-healing does not segregate the remembrance of babies born via elective abortion from the remembrance of babies born via miscarriage or stillbirth for the single purpose of demonstrating a political or religious position based on legalistic judgment against the mothers rather than honoring the personhood of the babies and the lifelong journey of the mothers.

Let me tell you, you cannot speak God’s love and mercy to mothers of electively aborted babies if you stand at the grave of their baby with the sole intention of holding a pre-planned and politically-based outcome of your actions.

When you have a pre-designed outcome for your purposes, as a Christian, as a conservative, as a pro-life individual, as a bereaved mother, let me tell you plainly: you cannot hold vigil.

Pro-healing does not stand in a mothers stead, but searches for ways to welcome all mothers.

And all, are welcome here.

Related: the annual stillbirthday October Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness event will always be for everyone touched by bereavement

If you are a mother facing the possibility of elective abortion, please know the value of time.  Time.  You are not alone.  There are resources and there is support for whatever your circumstances are, whether the death of your baby is inevitable due to diagnosis or whether the death of your baby feels like the only option in a terrible collection of pain and impossibility.  You are not alone.  There is value in time.  It’s not to trick you.  It’s to give you even just one morsel of the enormity of what may feel taken from you right now.  Please.  Use time.

If you are a mother who has given birth via elective abortion, you don’t need me to tell you that your baby was a baby.  And I don’t need you to confess that you are filled with regret.  Whatever your circumstance, wherever you have been, you are valuable.  You are worthy.  I will not blast out the cliché that you have reproductive rights.  That doesn’t begin to reach into the magnitude of what you may be carrying.  You have a right to healing.  Not conditional upon holding a certain threshold of shame.  But simply because you were created to receive love from One who loves you unconditionally and because that One not only holds your baby for you, but waits patiently for you to sense that love being given to you, so that when you finally become filled with that love, you can give some of that love in return.

 

From the Chasm

I am in a chasm right now.  I have been sinking into it for months.

It began, I believed, by an inappropriate growing of my own expectations of others.  After all, issues like self-righteousness are things we are all vulnerable to.

I began facing this sliding with a deep intention to check my heart for any festering expectation of others I might find there, even as simple and rational as the expectation might be, and to actively work on surrendering such distraction from the heart of love I want to embody.

This worked.  I have been able to find some things in my heart that I haven’t liked to see.  But I don’t think they were very disproportionate or in any way over exaggerated.  I’m just simply confessing here that I am just a real person, with a real humanitarian hope and simple faith in the goodness of others.

What I’m saying, is that each of us, we want to feel that our efforts are making a difference, and we start to gauge that expectation against standards we begin to espouse about the status quo or those who may impact it.

So, self checks are really important to our maturity and to our discernment.

This intentional inspecting of my motives or expectations of others helped me to even further deepen my humility, and for that I am so thankful.  One thing I know that we all need, as anyone who steps into the sacred space of birth and of death needs, is humility.  I tend to nearly fully believe we could never have enough of it.

But this process, as enlightening and enriching as it was, still, was insufficient.

Somewhere, still, my heart was still growing more and more heavy.  More weary.  More, forlorn.

Some sort of a parasite had secretly found it’s way into my spirit, and it was growing, festering, it was gaining weight and strength off of my very essence.

Spiritual cancer.

And the platitudes began.

And the issues that I thought I had begun to reign in through my intentional efforts were proliferating, were bursting at the seams.

And the fear of this truth has been enormous.

These are some of the roles that I have:

  • I moderate all comments made onto every story here, because as much as we’d like to envision a world where there wasn’t infant death, there are those whose mental unwellness rises in them an evilness and a dark desire to bring more hurting to others.
  • I oversee all of the programs and ministries here at stillbirthday.
  • I moderate all comments made onto every post made at our facebook page and in our facebook group, for the same reasons mentioned above.
  • I mentor individuals and provide doula support to mothers and families.
  • I co-teach our doula program.
  • I work actively to raise awareness of pregnancy and infant loss in general, and of our many programs and resources here.

People who I believe ought to have at least a basic understanding of the language of grief have turned a deaf ear on my pleas for awareness and recognition of the magnitude of all we bereaved parents endure.

People reject my suggestions, my insistence, my cry for more awareness of all that we all endure.

And as much as I am involved, these things are about all of us.

I have always made myself as absolutely available as I possibly can, through multiple means of communication, so that anyone can have access to me with any thoughts, concerns, questions or ideas they may have about pregnancy and infant loss support.

But as I’ve continued to slip into this chasm, weighed by this invisible parasite of my joy, of my peace, of my healing, I have become increasingly aware that instead, I have only been open to finding unexpected and additional hurtfulness and even cruelty.

I don’t really want to elaborate because I don’t want to trip anybody up, but the issues of negativity, of minimization, of negligence, are pervasive and they are persistent.

And I assure you, an offense against any of us is an offense against all of us.  We are all, in this together.  We each bring something so significant just through sharing our stories, our truths, our tears, our hope.  I do not bring anything more than you do – but I have felt more exposed, more criticized, more aware of the legalism, judgment and discrimination of others, than at any other time in my life.

So here I am, starting way back at the beginning.  Undoing two years of effort, two years of fighting, two years of being strong.

I act professionally.

I act graceful.

I act strong.

I fulfill all of these roles, but none of them define me.

I am mother to a deceased baby.

I am not strong.

I don’t have anything fancy to bring.

Just love.  Just dignity.

Just an imperfect attempt to reach out my hand to find yours, that we might walk a little stronger on this journey that I know I have been stumbling on.  My journey has not been graceful.  My poise has been clumsy.  My smile has not always been steady.

I am hurting.

And as I slip into this chasm, I lean hard into the few things that I know I can count on – spiritually, emotionally and maybe even physically.

I touch the walls in this darkness, admitting I am here.

I remember the deep release of a full, cleansing breath.  I wonder when I will have that once again, but even in the wondering, I am believing that I will.

I trust dawn will come.  I wait for the sun to kiss my skin and for peace to warm my bones again.

I have recently closed my personal facebook page and facebook is in the process of converting it, and I know that this step itself has hurt people, people who do mean a great deal to me but some of whom have erroneously believed that their heart to help will be enough to help.

This decision was done purely to limit my exposure to the endless attacks against the dignity of the bereaved.

And these things come from the most unexpected of sources.  Religious organizations.  Bereavement organizations.  Medical establishments.   Those who espouse particular birth philosophies or beliefs.

What I need right now is to treat myself as I do all of the mothers whom I have the blessed honor to serve.   Being real, admitting that I am not strong, is messy.  Complicated.  Frustrating.  Additionally painful.

But I am here, crying out from the chasm, speaking into the shame, the loneliness, the overwhelm.  Heaving as I wearily and clumsily drudge through the mess.  Begging you to forgive me if I have hurt you by turning away, to tend to my own broken heart.

I have once again become pregnant with grief.  Those who know me didn’t need to wait for my announcement – somehow, they could see something tightening, they could see something new growing, they could see me changing.  It has become visible, noticeable.

I know, that at the end of the laboring, I will give birth to healing.

The reality of what I carry won’t just disappear or just be undone.

But it will transform into something beyond just who I am.

I know, that like the most intense labor, it is when you believe that you cannot endure anymore, that you truly are almost done.

Please, allow me to be gentle on myself, as I labor.

Please, be patient as I stumble.

Please, wait for me.

My mourning needs to be mothered.

 

 

 

 

{photo source}

 

 

 

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.