You are here: Home / Archives for all

The Birth of a Miracle

August 18, 2013 by 2 Comments

Told by: Jessa

After two consecutive early pregnancy losses and weeks of hormones that left me feeling beyond icky, I waited what I thought would be the longest three weeks of my life. October 24, 2012 couldn’t have come soon enough. It was finally time to take the test…and when I did, my self discipline and patience was well rewarded…WE WERE EXPECTING!!!

I called my OB’s office right away and scheduled an appointment around our 8wk time frame. Because we had been testing for ovulation and to begin progesterone support, we knew exactly when conception occurred. We knew we’d be expecting our bundle of joy July 4, 2013. When we went in for that first ultrasound, however, our measurements were just a tad off and we were given an adjusted due date of July 10, 2013. This normally is no big deal, and certainly wasn’t to my doctor; but because I was SO sure of the exact day I ovulated and conceived, I questioned it. Could there be something wrong? I was met with reassurance that if there were something “majorly wrong” this early the pregnancy would have already met it’s demise. I openly accepted that our peanut was just a little small and excitedly began making the announcement. After both my previous losses part of me wanted to be guarded, part of me thought I should wait; but in my heart I just knew this was it. It’s hard to explain because I did have all the normal fears, yet I had almost a supernatural peace of mind about this pregnancy. About this baby. About my child.

The pregnancy was pretty smooth, although I did get the sickest with this pregnancy…more so than any other. I thought this was great, though! Could it mean this was a girl? At 16wks we decided we couldn’t wait to know. We made an appointment with Sneak A Peek Ultrasound to determine if “Baby A” would be Allison or Andrew. We packed up the boys, who were equally excited to know, and made the one hour drive to a nearby town for the appointment. There we met an amazing, kind, patient, Godly woman named Cindy. Little did we know, meeting her would provide us with some of out most treasured memories. We began to watch our baby on the big screen. When we got to the “between the legs” shot, though, Baby A was NOT cooperating. We actually went back twice more before finally getting a good shot at 19wks and learning that it was a GIRL! We went on a pink shopping spree immediately only to have a contradicting answer at my medical ultrasound just four days later. What did this mean?? Not even a week before we 100% had a girl, now we 100% had a boy. Luckily I had an appointment with my OB the next day and prayed she could clear it up. She agreed to take a quick look and we became even more confused than before. If the baby was a girl, she was very “swollen” but could be developing normally. If it was a boy, something wasn’t normal. However, she wasn’t too concerned because everything else seemed fine, so if it were something it wasn’t major. I tried my hardest to just accept that and be thankful that we still had a healthy baby, but not knowing what all was or could be going on was killing me. Since she leaned towards it being a girl possibly just reacting to my hormones, we decided to accept that. We started calling her Allie.

I went the next 8 weeks with a, once again, uneventful, normal pregnancy. But at my 28wk appointment my blood pressure had skyrocketed. My OB sent me for labs and for a fetal growth/amniotic fluid level ultrasound. Fearing that my high BP may be effecting my placenta and ultimately the baby, she just wanted to check. The results would change EVERYTHING. Our Allie was measuring only about half a pound behind, but her abdomen was 2 full weeks behind and the cephalic index(size of her head) was not normal. We were immediately referred to a perinatologist at a larger hospital to get to the bottom of her growth problems.

Upon checking in, I noticed our referral form listed “asymmetrical intrauterine growth restriction and ambiguous genitalia” as our reasons for being there. We quickly learned, though, that these were two of the least of our problems. It seemed as if the doctor was giving a dissertation as he went down the laundry list of all that he saw wrong during our ultrasound. “The heart is way too far to the right of the chest. This is not normal lung tissue and appears the same as the intestinal tissue, yes, that is intestine in the chest. Severe diaphragmatic hernia. The kidneys appear ok, but I don’t see a stomach at all. Something doesn’t look right with the heart, yes, the aorta is going into the wrong side. Major heart defect there. And the cerebellum is not developing properly, please note bifid cerebellum. Do you see hands? The hands and forearms are not normal, appears to be missing at least one bone in the forearm. Definitely abnormal genitalia. Possibly chromosomal abnormalities could explain.” I COULDN’T KEEP UP!! My mind was spinning and I’m sure I only heard 80% of what was actually said. What did this mean…and what was I supposed to do? After the ultrasound, he immediately performed an amniocentesis…and those three weeks I had waited to take a pregnancy test were NOTHING compared to the next 10 days.

Then it happened. At 6:04pm on May 15, 2013, my OB called with my results. Our Allie was actually a BOY…and tested positive for full Trisomy 18. The T18 was the reason for everything from the abnormal genitalia to the hernia and heart defect. Everything…and with the diagnosis came the four most abrasive words I’ve ever heard. “Not compatible with life.” I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breath. This wasn’t real. How? Why? What now?

I saw doctors A LOT for the next couple weeks. We did so much research. Intrauterine growth restriction, transposition of the great artery, congenital diaphragmatic hernia, bifid cerebellum, clenched fists, pulmonary hypoplasia, abnormal cephalic index, rocker bottom feet…these terms became the norm…but I hated using them. My baby wasn’t a diagnosis, he was my son. It was hard to keep everything in perspective. We began having conversations with our friends, family and even our 4 and 6 year old that we shouldn’t have to be having. We began making decisions we shouldn’t have to be making. We began making our birth plan. I had one goal…and it was to meet my son and look into his eyes. We had been told it was a miracle with the diagnosis and his specific defects he had made it this far and probably wouldn’t make it to delivery….but in my heart I knew better. I believed in our Andrew. My original OB agreed to deliver me at 37wks with a comfort care birth plan. I chose this because I knew with the odds against us my greatest chance of achieving a live birth would come with him coming sooner rather than later. The date was set. We would celebrate Andrew’s birthday June 19, 2013.

That morning came faster than I ever could have imagined. As I showered I could feel my sweet Drew dancing around….it was met with such mixed emotion. We had already been through so much together. He was already so strong. He had already beaten the odds. I was so ready to have him in my arms, yet I knew that our time would be short…and I wasn’t ready for it to be over. My heart could not grasp the reality that saying hello would also mean saying goodbye. Everyone staggered in to await his arrival…my parents, grandparents, inlaws, good friends, our awesome photographer. My wonderful doula, Nicolle, came…something I was so, so , so happy about because when I first learned our birth would be “different” I wasn’t really sure what her role would be.

The first 7 hours or so were very easy…I even told my friend, Katie, that my contractions actually tickled! Because I had been so focused on all the stress of the previous weeks, I had neglected my original plan of a natural, unmedicated birth and hadn’t spent the time preparing that I should have. When it started getting tough, Nicolle had to give me a crash course! We tried several different things, but ultimately standing is what worked for me. So I stood and prayed and stood and swayed. Nicolle was worried my legs would get tired but I knew I couldn’t do anything else. Then out of nowhere a contraction came that changed everything…it wasn’t the pain…but this one was different. I started getting hot and sweating so much…and the pressure was so much more intense. Nicolle had my nurse, Brandi, check me and I had jumped from 5cm to 8cm in no time! She immediately called my doctor and by the time she ran across the parking lot from her office to the hospital we all knew it was time. I told everyone I couldn’t do it…I begged them to help me, but my OB said the only thing that would help would be to push. I did. I pushed once. My tiny son came flying into this world with one push.

Andrew Milan Martin was here. And his eyes were OPEN. I achieved my one goal…I got to look into his eyes. At 2:22pm on June 19, 2013, I gave birth to my hero. I was SOOOO proud of him. I couldn’t stop saying “you did it!” He even tried to cry a few times He was bigger than we expected at 3lb13oz and 17 1/4″ long. He was beyond perfect. We had spent so much time focusing on and learning all that was wrong with him that I was far from prepared to take in just how beautiful he was. We kissed him, we held him, we talked to him, we bathed him, we dressed him, our boys came in to meet him, our families came in to meet him. Then at 4:13pm he earned his wings. His tiny broken heart had finally stopped. This had given us more time than we expected…not that it would ever be enough. We celebrated Drew’s birth with our family. I wanted this to be a happy time…we even had cupcakes and sang Happy Birthday. His body may not have been “compatible with life” but he was definitely worthy of it.

Everyone trickled out…my doula, friends, family…we were alone. Just me, my husband and Drew. This was a very difficult time, but I’m thankful for it. We were able to take pictures, do footprints and just cuddle. We needed that. We let him leave our side for the first time at 10:00pm that night. We said what were the most difficult goodbyes of our lives and handed him to my nurse. I was beyond broken, but as she walked away I couldn’t help but be proud. I hadn’t just had a baby…I gave birth to a miracle.

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: 37 weeks, all, All Newborns / Diagnosis, Election Not Desire, Infertility / Recurrent Loss

After Ourselves

August 15, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Told by: Heather

On April 20, 2013 I began bleeding heavily while out of town with my daughter. We were in a hotel room and there was no one but my teenager there to pull me together.

My husband had to come to where I was in the middle of the night.

Later in the week with ultrasounds and blood tests the doctor determined I had a blighted ovum. I would’ve been 10 weeks that week I found out. I had only had my first appointment and no ultrasound pictures. All that remains from my pregnancy is my positive pregnancy test. I never will even know if my baby started to develop and died and was absorbed into my body or if I was only pregnant with the sac.

Either way, I fell in love with my baby with that positive pregnancy test.

We decided since we never saw our baby or knew the sex to name it after ourselves. Jaime (my first name) and Ryan (husband’s middle name). Jaime Ryan….Mommy and Daddy will love you forever!

[slideshow gallery_id=”1″]

Filed Under: 10 weeks, all, Blighted Ovum / Molar

Shame

August 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Grief is the hardest challenge I have ever been faced with.

You would think, that bereaved mothers share something universal, something collective, and that we each, would treasure our cup that we carry into our global community pool of tears.  That we would treasure one another’s cup, as well.

The reality is, we don’t.

We speak of the things our loved ones can do better, but we are hurting one another within our own circle.

We try to push others out of the circle.  We try to push ourselves out of the circle.

Divisiveness becomes a way to protect our very fragile wounds.  We bereaved mothers often discriminate, often divide, based on:

  • age of the baby.
  • family structure.
  • choices made prior to the birth.
  • choices made during birth.
  • choices made after the birth.
  • definition of loss.
  • religion.

And while I tend to think that these divisions most often come from a place of fear, what we need to know, is that these divisions fester something terrible, in ourselves, and in each other.

Shame.

I don’t deserve to be part of community, because _________

  • I’m too young.
  • I wasn’t as far along as you.
  • I’m lesbian.
  • I’m older than you.
  • I’m not married.
  • I didn’t do what you did, or what you would have done.
  • I’m not religious.
  • I’m confused about what I believe.
  • I am religious.
  • I should have known better, and I should have done things differently.
  • I haven’t had enough losses.
  • I’ve had too many losses.
  • I have more to be thankful for or happy about than others.
  • I have made mistakes, and I am unforgiveable.

Stop!

These are all lies!

Shame is a facet of our grief.  It just is.  And as we peer into our cup of tears, we are terrified to think that ours is the only one that holds shame.  We fear that if we dare pour our cup into the community pool, that what we have to bring will taint the well.  It will stain the waters and will ruin the gathered source of healing.

So we try to scoop it out.  We try to pat our damp hands on our sides, hoping we got it all out, hoping nobody will see.

And our community source of healing is terribly dry because of it.

The more options we learn that there are, prior to birth…

The more options we learn that there are, during birth…

The more options we learn that there are, after birth…

…the more that shame can loom in, casting out a shadow that we are tempted to flee and hide behind.

Shame, just like grief, is something we have silently learned to run from, but shame, just like grief, is something that stillbirthday invites you, with tenderness and with sensitivity, to learn to lean into.

I am the founder of stillbirthday, and I strive continually to find the next option, the latest choice a family may have, the newest wonderfully healing opportunity for families enduring their darkest of days.  And in the process, I can say with all certainty that yes, there are things I would do differently in my own darkest of days, if I could do them all over.

But the process also reminds me, that it’s never too late.

I am worthy of healing.

I have beautiful choices now.

I can learn to mother my mourning.

I can learn to release myself from the bondage of shame.

I can remember and I can believe, that we are all, in this together.

With a little bit of courage, with our circle of community and with a little bit of creativity, we can show love – to one another, to our babies, and to ourselves.

 We do not have to forget or forfeit our own experiences, morals, interpretations or beliefs, nor do we need to have others forget or forfeit their own.  We can give – and get – love, just the way we are.  And by so doing, we will deepen, we will grow, we will heal.

 

Filed Under: all, Provider Care, SBD News Team

The Missions Field of Mourning

August 13, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Pregnancy and infant loss knows no boundaries.

It touches every continent, every culture, every community.

Stillbirthday aims to do the same.

 

The perspectives, traditions, customs and philosophies surrounding birth & bereavement are many, and include the aspects of:

  • pre-conception
  • conception
  • gestation
  • birth
  • personhood
  • motherhood
  • parenthood
  • family structure
  • death
  • mourning

When we think of the missions field, stereotypical images and words may be the first to enter our minds:

Savages.

If we’re honest, we think of exotic lands filled with savages, and if only they could know that Jesus Christ is a very real person, who really died for them, who is the only way into Heaven

– if they would just listen to us –

then we could bring them their only hope and their only beauty:

Salvation.

And if we’re honest, those who are not Christian, think of those of us who are as sharply arrogant, justifying our own divisiveness in the name of the Lord but who, in the same breath, claim to be the victims of outrageous discrimination; we Christians can be ruthlessly narrow-minded.

Persecution.

So, what is it like, to be a Christian, Caucasian American woman who is the founder of a global resource for birth and bereavement?

It is so much more than a hobby, an idea, a ministry or a work.

Birth & Bereavement is a missions field.

But to articulate this correctly, I do need to make sure that you know what I mean by a missions field.

  • 1. Birth & Bereavement is a place filled with real people, who hold to traditions, customs and beliefs that are as ancient as history and feelings as fresh and raw as rain.

It is never the one sided giving relationship most people might think it is.  It is always an exchange, that grows everyone involved.  It faces stereotypes, emotionally charging terminology and starkly different morals, values and beliefs in ways that promote a shared humanity and reveal an uncharted potential for love.

 

  • 2. It is filled with the most gorgeous hues of hope, the most stunning shades of life and the most vibrant colors of love.

It is to sojourn to a land that is familiar and foreign all at the same time.

Just as in the very word “missions”, Birth & Bereavement is so much more than many people would think it is.

{photo source}

  • 3. It is riddled with darkness, despair, wars on many fronts and attacks from all directions.  Intruders in the night creep in to rob us of the very sustenance we need, to rape our vulnerable spirits and to plunder our hope.  The persecution is real. 

And, no, I do not use these descriptives lightly at all.

  • 4. It is an all-consuming work.

It is a misunderstood work.  It is a lonely work.  It rips into every belief we have ever held.  It requires sacrifice to the deepest degree.  The result of these conditions can eat into our own health, in every way and on every level.  It requires explanation of the umpteenth time to our loved ones – and to ourselves – why we persevere.  It offers little rest.  Each need is not the next to serve but is the first all over again.  Preparation, education and training are essential, but so is humility and so is endurance.  It requires a delicate dance of daring to allow ourselves to be seen while simultaneously mirroring back to those we are serving.  It demands vulnerability.

  • 5. The fruit of the labor is global, and eternal.

It is neither a denominational effort nor a doctrinal agenda.  The rewards are not shiny and the accolades are not shouted.  The feedback is but a whisper.  It is in the breath of the bereaved and weary mother who sighs in forlorn, as she wearily pulls her feet forward anyway even when the will to live has escaped her.   It is in the unseen moments, long after our work is done, when the weary traveler discovers the bend in the journey where grief unfolds into healing.

 

It is a work that requires workers of all skills and abilities and demands the participation of many degrees.  Here are but a few:

Whoever you are, wherever you are, you are invited.

What’s more, you are needed.

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: all, Provider Care, SBD News Team

Esme is Our Blessing

August 9, 2013 by 2 Comments

Told by: Erin

I love birth stories. I love hearing the hard roads mama’s travel to bring their babies into the world, the stories are always exciting and loving. In honor of Esme’s due date (August 8), we have decided to share Esme’s (still)Birth Story. Our daughter, Esme Halyn, passed at 24 weeks 3 days. We learned during the pregnancy that there were several complications and she wasn’t expected to survive. When she passed, we began waiting for my body to go into labor. We actively waited 3 weeks; during this time trying acupuncture, herbs, etc., but finally decided we were ready to try more before it was medically necessary to go to be induced at a hospital. So, on Monday May 13 (our 7th wedding anniversary) at 9:51am I began taking Cytotec to induce labor. We desired to deliver Esme at the birthing center. That was her birth plan. That is where her sister was born. That is where we are comfortable and where we knew we would have the space and freedom to explore and love her as we desired after she was delivered.

The Cytotec began to take effect quickly. Within 10 minutes, I was experiencing cramping. When we returned home from our appointment at the birth center that morning, Joel got to work to finish up what he needed to and I packed our bags and played with Salem. Well, I tried to play with Salem but eventually we just sat and watched the iPad because I didn’t feel up for too much since the cramping was quickly becoming more strong. When Salem went down for her nap that afternoon, I decided to lay down as well and was able to take a little nap. Within 20 minutes after I awoke the uncomfortable cramping feelings turned to contractions and picked up speed quick, coming almost every minute for a while. During this time our friend, Linda, had stopped by and we ended up sending Salem on with her, as we expected the delivery to come soon. But unfortunately things slowed down, and I had to take another dose of Cytotec at 3:30pm… and we waited for labor to build again. My husband’s parents arrived in town at 5pm and we sat in the den chatting. Well, they chatted and I laid on the couch counting contractions and breathing through them. The contractions had built again to every two minutes, and lasting over a minute. We touched base with our midwife and the decision was made at 6:15pm to head to the birthing center. I wasn’t much help getting out the door since at this point I was needing to lean over to endure the contractions, but my husband, Joel, gathered our stuff (he even made a smoothie for me!) On the way to the birthing center, the contractions had built in intensity. At this point, I was having to squeeze the door handle and was groaning to endure the pain. We hit awful traffic on the highway due to a wreck, but thankfully it moved fast. I was aware, yet simultaneously oblivious to it, since I was in labor land. While on the drive contractions eased up enough for me to throw up, but returned with a vengeance at the birthing center (we arrived at 6:40pm). We made our way to a birthing room in the back and I took the liberty to try to make myself comfortable — yet to no avail. I tried laying on the bed, squatting on the floor, etc. The contractions were more painful than I had anticipated and it was more difficult to play the mind games and work through the contractions than with Salem’s labor because I couldn’t tell myself the same things — this process was not going to end the same way.

At one point I was on my hands and knees on the bed and just starting crying, “I can’t do this. Its harder than I thought. I just want to be done.” I eventually resumed laying on my side and squeezing Joel’s hand through contractions. They were painful and I was still having a hard time relaxing. I remember saying often, “I just want to push, I want this to be done.” Around this time I felt the contractions easing up and I became disappointed. Even though it was painful, I didn’t want it to end until it ended with her delivery. I did not want to have to take another dose of Cytotec. Christine, my midwife, had recommended that moving would help. I didn’t want to move, but a few minutes later I reluctantly decided to get up and go to the bathroom (Joel came with me, he was always with me). I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and as I stood up to wash my hands I felt something different going on and immediately hit the floor on my knees. I yelled to the other room, “something’s happening!”

Christine came to bathroom and Joel’s mother was sent to get the other midwife. I reached down and felt her and said, “she’s coming!” Christine laid an absorbent pad on the floor since it was obvious I was going to deliver her right there. I was able to give one big push and she was delivered. She came out in her sack (which is considered a blessing!), it was perfect. Esme Halyn was delivered at 7:16pm. We transitioned me and Esme from the bathroom to the bed where Christine opened the sack so we could get Esme out. We were mesmerized and simply stared at her. She was our daughter and she was perfect. We explored her tiny body. From her head to her toes. Her skin was fragile. She had finger prints and her open mouth revealed her tiny tongue. When wrapped in her blanket her lifeless body presumed the position familiar to us from the ultrasounds with her left arm crossing her chest and and laying against her cheek. She is ours.

For two hours we passed her around, holding her, staring at her, loving on her. It was a peaceful and loving time. I was surprised at my reaction. I thought I would see her and sob. But instead I had a “it is finished” feeling. I felt guilty at the relief I was experiencing, but more enjoyed the freedom to be there and adore her.

As I was laying on my side with her close to my chest (some time later), a man dressed in a black suit carrying a black bag entered the room. My sobs began. He was there to take my daughter away. Yes, she was gone, she had passed. But she was still with me. But he… he was going to take her and this would be the last I ever held her on this earth. We had prepared our hearts for this time (as best we could), so we said our final goodbyes and kissed her sweet face. When she left, we cried some more but then we packed up and left as well. And it was as hard as I thought it would be leaving the birth center without my baby. Esme’s labor and delivery was perfect to us. It is wild how similar Esme and her big sister’s stories are, and yet, how vastly different experiences they were. During labors with both girls, I napped while labor was gearing up, I labored laying on my side on our couch, and both girls were delivered quickly upon arriving at the birthing center. It is crazy, but it is such a gift to me that it was a bit of a shared experience. One of the hardest things since that day is the “I just want to hold her” feeling. We miss her deeply and long for the day to kiss her face again. Our unique daughter who is deeply loved, Esme Halyn.

Filed Under: 24 weeks, 25 weeks, 26 weeks, all, Home /Out-of-Hospital/ Loss

SBD Doula Class!

August 3, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Hi everyone!

 

This is just a super quick announcement, to let everyone know that our next doula class is now in session!  If you’ve completed your enrollment, you should have received your training materials.  The first week of training officially begins Monday August 5, so these few days are for your benefit, just to unpack the materials and get familiar with them.

 

With technical glitches and things, this is just a little message to say, just let me know if you don’t think you have your materials yet.  You can comment here, or you can email me at Heidi.Faith@stillbirthday.info with “waiting on training” as an easy subject line.

 

I’m looking forward to growing and learning with you!

 

Filed Under: all

The Delicate Dance

August 2, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Written by: Kristin

I have daughters.

6 that I am certain of in fact.

There are 4 running around my house. Helping with chores or the  babysitting, one is cooking, another is coloring. I even have one jumping on a trampoline, as though trying out for the circus.

I have a daughter with heavy chipmunk cheeks, wavy brown hair, and that signature stork bite at the nape if her neck all my children posses. She used to hiccup every night at 10 pm! How funny!
She lives with Jesus.
I try to imagine the splendor of her days.

Then there is my 6th daughter I’m certain of. She is tiny,under 3 pounds right now, but so strong. I feel her responses to my pleas, ” hunny, kick for mommy, let me know you are well. ” Soon enough, I’m hoping to hear her cry – to be given the gift of comforting her.

All of of my children, are subsequent children. Both sons and daughters.

Loss has always been an aspect of my children’s existence. But now, just now as it has been so deep, ongoing, recurrent has the blanket truly unfolded on us. The precious fragility of life is too well known.

Over the years, I’ve questioned my responsibility to my daughters in my response to loss. I’ve been aware of the impact on their present and future lives. I’ve tried to model trust in God, His goodness and love is not dependent on circumstances.
I’ve wondered why they too must endure so much, wishing I didn’t need to see them being refined with me.

I am trying to come to a place of peace. I don’t know or understand the mind of God or His plans. That is ok.

It is a beautiful, delicate dance to mother these daughters through the days we are given.

I will lay on bed rest while my oldest daughter mothers me. She will feed me, give me injections, and brush my hair as she listens to my heart. I will see the effect of deep tragedy behind her eyes and trust my God mending her broken places with pure gold.

I will assure my middle teen that she is allowed to live. To move forward and experience life. That panic grips her and comes out as rage, she is safe to unload it on me.

My crazy 9 year old cannot bare the pain or truth that death is part of life. Distraction and denial has been her safety net. I catch the glimmer of fear in her face from time to time not wanting to know what sometimes happens. I strive to reassure her that she is safe and life doesn’t always end in loss.

The 5 year old misses the sister she longed to stroke and mother herself. She fiercely protects her memory, wants visions of what she might do in heaven, and says the things we all think.,, ” I wish we could do it over,, I wish we could see her again,, I hope this baby doesn’t die when it is born. ”
She guards her heart, and needs long periods of time in silence, cuddled close to my side.

Why have we lived this together?What will their life bring?
Will their hearts break twice, once for their own loss and again watching their children suffer the effects?

It isn’t for me to know. For now I gratefully accept they are here. They are with be now. They are the answer if when God said,”Yes”.

Stillbirthday invites you to learn about our Love Letters collection and to share yours with us.

Filed Under: all, Holding Umbrellas, Love Letters to My Daughter, Mothering Our Mourning

Protected: Blank

August 1, 2013 by Leave a Comment

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

Filed Under: all

the cake

August 1, 2013 by Leave a Comment

slider pictures white

Filed Under: all

So, You’re Not Christian

July 25, 2013 by 5 Comments

This very week, stillbirthday has been here for 2 years.  And, this very week, we have reached over 1,000,000 families.

We are growing and reaching in more ways than I’ve ever fathomed.

Which makes this message a painful one, an embarrassing one, but one I must share.

If you’ve spent any amount of time in the Heidi’s Pieces section of stories, you’ve come to know that I had a very painful childhood, one filled with trauma, abuse and neglect.

And you’ll quickly come to know that I became a Christian in my adult life.

And then my baby was born in the first trimester.

My baby, who is not alive.

Who was called debris.

And we were denied services by a prominent bereavement organization I won’t even mention.

And my baby still doesn’t have a headstone.  Two years later.  Because stillbirthday is where I come to mourn, and because it is an honor to share this place with others who are hurting.  And because all funds generated through stillbirthday get poured back into stillbirthday.

My husband and I began stillbirthday, as a way to give a glimpse of hope to those enduring the darkness we have been.

And Christians, who wouldn’t ask me about my own personal experience, told me to make stillbirthday extremely pro-life.

And non-Christians, who likewise, never bothered to know about my heartbreak, demanded stillbirthday portray elective abortion as something light or easy.

I have done nor will do neither.

I have had the most slanderous and maliciously cruel things said about me, I’ve had my work stolen, I’ve had my grief journey insulted.

Christians, who didn’t ask me where my source of hope has come from, spoke with judgment and discrimination and told me condescendingly that the Bible needs to be the only source of encouragement for bereavement.

Non-Christians, who likewise, failed to be curious about the individual of me, accused me of being judgmental and discriminatory.

I have never done nor will I ever do either.

However,

In the darkness through which stillbirthday was born, I was panicked in my own faith.

I was terrified that God was not at all who I thought He was.

And in that panic, I did saturate evangelistic approaches in some of the thoughts I had early in my grief.

In a moment of pure transparency, two years later, 1 million people later, I desperately cry in embarrassment,

I am so sorry.

I am so sorry for the shame or condemnation or judgment I might have inadvertently cast upon you in your darkest of days.

I never, ever meant to bring any more pain.

I have grown and matured in this impossible darkness and terrible but beautiful journey, and I have since those earliest days revised the things that stung my heart as I found my old words through new eyes.

I am Christian.

I always will be.

But pregnancy and infant loss, it isn’t.

It knows no boundaries.

It touches every continent, every culture and every community.

I desire stillbirthday to do the same.

And, I realize that in order to truly do that, I need you to know this:

I am a 30-something, Caucasian, American, Christian mother.  This is the lens I come from.

But I want your help to learn about you.

And I beg your forgiveness as I stumble on the journey.

I have been through a lot, and I trust you have too.

I have learned,

That God isn’t who I thought He was.

I am Christian,

And it is not what I thought it was.

And while the lessons have been terribly painful ones,

I am thankful for them.

I am Christian,

And it’s probably not what you thought it was, either.

Whoever you are, wherever you are,

I just want to bring you love, but I am hurting too, and I ask you, to please find it within yourself, to bring love too.

 

Filed Under: all, Heidi's Pieces
« Previous Page
Next Page »

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

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