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Seeing Past the Pink

October 13, 2012 by 1 Comment

I want to see the world through rose colored glasses.

I want families to see two pink lines, and then nine months later see a pink-cheeked, warm and rosy baby.

I want to see pink ribbons at the grocery store, on clothing, at the football game, and I want to tell Susan that she’s doing a fantastic job of making a serious health concern so respected in our culture that it’s become, well, trendy.

I want to see pink ribbons and consider wearing one, because I haven’t personally been impacted by breast cancer, nor has anyone that I love.  I want to support breast cancer awareness because I haven’t been hurt by it.

I want to wear pink because I wouldn’t feel looked at, I wouldn’t feel like some kind of a crazy trailblazer, with scrapes and pricks pushing through my skin as I try to move past painful barberry of judgment and brambles of other people’s expectations.

 

I don’t want to think of the bitter irony that when a woman’s body is invaded by breast cancer, so many aspects of herself are challenged – including her sexual body and subsequently her nurturing body for her infants.

I don’t want to make the correlation that stillborn babies, that miscarried babies, that babies who aren’t alive, aren’t breastfed.  That breastfeeding them would lower their chances of breast cancer, and their need for a pink ribbon.

 

Yes, you see, I just would rather see pink.

But one in four mothers see more than pink.  We see red, when red shouldn’t be there.

Then, we see blue.

And that blue means so many things to each of us:

  • lifelessness
  • hopes deferred
  • era of effort ended
  • emotional and spiritual deepness, darkness
  • sadness
  • grief

 

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and in its honor is the pink ribbon.

October is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month.   Mothers are impacted by pregnancy and infant loss, to be sure.  But fathers too, are equally impacted by pregnancy and infant loss – they are equally parents.

While the pink ribbon is gently intertwined with a blue ribbon to represent the boys and girls who’ve lived but who died through miscarriage, stillbirth and infant death, it too represents the gentle intertwining of both mothers and fathers, facing the craziest, scariest loop of their entire lives, but who determine to stay attached right in the thick of it, and who come out the other side, still connected.

 

This morning, as I write this in fact, I help lower the chances of my daughter being impacted by breast cancer, by breastfeeding her.  But as she finishes her breakfast and I pull my shirt down, it is not a pink ribbon you’ll find me wearing.

 

My pink ribbon is lined with blue, in memory of my fourth child, my fourth son, who was alive, who died, and who was born through miscarriage.  My pink ribbon is lined with blue, in honor of my husband, who walks this crazy, scary journey with me.  My pink ribbon is lined with blue, because a miscarried baby is born every minute, and because an American baby is born still every twenty minutes.  My pink ribbon is lined with blue, because I saw red when I shouldn’t have.  My pink ribbon is lined with blue because this journey has been painful, hurtful, and the deepest, darkest experience I’ve ever had in my entire life.  My pink ribbon is lined with blue, because as I look up at the expanse of the open, blue sky, I have an assurance that my baby matters.  That my story matters.  That I matter.  And that I am not alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: all

Misconceptions of Miscarriage

October 8, 2012 by 12 Comments

I asked some of my fellow stillbirthday mothers to help me out with some misconceptions of miscarriage.  This is our list, of misconceptions the people around us had – and said to us – in our darkest days of grief.

I’d like to build a misconceptions list of all pregnancy and infant loss experiences, so if you’d like, you can leave a comment with yours.  Alternately, you can visit our article on bullying the bereaved, and use the special email address there.

 

In our heartbreak, we felt:

  • Like a murderer.
  • Like a bad mother.
  • Like I couldn’t even protect my baby…from myself.
  • Like a failure.
  • Like my husband must blame me.
  • Like my husband should blame me.
  • Like my husband wouldn’t want to make love to me again.
  • Shame at my body’s desire to want intimacy again – feeling foolish for desiring sexual intimacy from my husband.
  • Wondering if my husband is thinking about the loss during intimacy with me.
  • Foolish to want to conceive again.
  • Foolish to think I can conceive again.
  • Foolish that my “womanhood” is so “incorrect” or “malfunctioned”.
  • Deep despair at the loss of effort it took to conceive – wasted time, money, effort.
  • Self loathing – vengeance for my child’s death, even if directed at self.
  • Tempted to search for blame onto others, including my spouse, others, or God.
  • Frustrated that even the platitudes were directed at my baby (“in a better place”) or rushing me into some future projection of happiness (“you can try again”) instead of focusing on my needs and the magnitude of the moment.
  • Unable to perceive anything other than the current darkness, and so these platitudes about the future seemed like a foreign language.
  • Pressure to move on, as if my body wasn’t actually in a postpartum transition.
  • Rejected.
  • Weird.

 

In our heartbreak, we heard:

 

  • It’s over.
  • You can forget.
  • You should forget.
  • You didn’t love your baby, that’s why you lost ‘it’.
  • Your life is easier with one less child to care for.
  • It was God’s will.
  • You should consider yourself lucky.
  • Your loss is easier than someone else’s loss (loss of spouse, etc.)
  • ‘It’ wasn’t a real child.
  • You shouldn’t hurt mentally.
  • You shouldn’t hurt emotionally.
  • You shouldn’t hurt spiritually.
  • You ‘only’ lost the idea of a baby.
  • It’s not real labor and childbirth.
  • It’s just a period.
  • ‘It’s’ just debris.
  • ‘It’s’ just products of conception.
  • You are not a mother.
  • God didn’t approve of this baby.
  • You didn’t deserve to be pregnant.
  • You should be thankful that you have your living children.
  • You can just get pregnant again.
  • You are lucky God changed His mind.
  • You are lucky to not have a special needs child, that you were spared from this.
  • This was God’s will.
  • It’s your fault (your weight, your job, your stress, etc.)
  • Adoption is an easy approach to parenthood.
  • Silence.

 

Stillbirthday mothers, this is a very hurtful list.  Just reading this hurts my heart.  If in reading this list, you get stuck in pain, please, I ask you this.  Please, get out a piece of paper and a pencil.  Please go through every single one of these comments above, and read it in the OPPOSITE.  Then, write down these OPPOSITE responses.  It would look like this:

  • I don’t have to forget.
  • God did not change His mind.
  • I love my baby.
  • Every loss is difficult – mine, and anyone else’s.

 

Giving birth to our miscarried baby(ies) has taught us many things.  It has stretched us to learn more about ourselves, about our feelings, about our values, about our patience, our forgiveness of others, and about our love.

I asked some stillbirthday mothers to expand on this with me.  This is our list.

  • It is good for me to honor my feelings.
  • It is good for me to validate each of my children and speak about them as I choose to.
  • It is good for me to include all of my children in conversations, in celebrations and in my family as I choose to.
  • My experience is worthy of me defining how I choose to.
  • I have the right to consider myself the mother to a miscarried child, for the rest of my life, and determine for myself how this role is an important one.
  • My heart can hold love for people I have never seen.
  • I am here, and I have a place, even when I feel lost.
  • It is good for me to cry.
  • It is good for me to laugh.
  • Happy can remind me of sad.  Sad can remind me of happy.
  • I treasure today because tomorrow is unknown.
  • I treasure my living children and other living loved ones, not because I was told to, but because I choose to.
  • I want to grow and to improve areas of myself in honor of my child(ren).
  • We all grieve differently.
  • I am not grieving wrong.

 

 

 

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

One a Minute

October 2, 2012 by Leave a Comment

Somewhere, a mother is peering over a pregnancy test, and marveling that her life will never be the same again, as she watches an invisible space fill with just the tiniest tinge of pink.

She looks at herself in the mirror.  She rubs her belly.  She wonders who she will tell first.

Somewhere, too, a doctor’s office is calling a woman, leaving a voicemail for her to return the call.  When she does, she will learn that her IVF efforts have resulted in a fertilized egg – that she is pregnant.

Somewhere in the United States, though, a mother is holding her still-flat tummy and consoling herself that cramping is a totally normal part of early pregnancy.

This very minute, a father is at work, somewhere in the United States.  His wife is calling him to tell him to come home.

This very minute a new mother is using the restroom, and begins to panic when she wipes and finds blood on her tissue.

This very minute, a new mother is sitting with her feet elevated, hoping to stop the blood from coming.

This very minute, a new mother is being told that “these things happen” and to “just expect a period.”

This very minute, new parents are wondering how to tell their children that mommy is losing the baby.

This very minute, a new mother, dressed in a suit or uniform, is wishing she could leave work, because she doesn’t want to be there as she labors her miscarried baby.

This very minute, a new mother is debating how she will finish her errands for the week, because she doesn’t want to risk being out in public as her body furthers the laboring of her miscarried baby.

This very minute, a new mother wishes the labor and birth would be over so that she can resume normal daily tasks like grocery shopping without fear, while at the same time wishing the nightmare would end and she would wake up still happily pregnant.

This very minute, young children are fantasizing over having a little brother or sister, only to learn that their baby is no longer alive.

This very minute, new parents are deciding how they will say goodbye to their baby, while wondering if they will be given that chance.

This very minute, a new mother is looking online to see what miscarried babies look like.  Her search will be met instead by babies born via D&C and presented through the politics surrounding elective abortion, if she doesn’t find stillbirthday.

This very minute, an ultrasound technician is shutting off an ultrasound machine with the words “I’m sorry.”

This very minute, a mother is peering into her toilet, feeling so ashamed and dirty as she sticks her hand into the cool, red water to see if she can retrieve what she wonders is the physical form of her tiny baby.

This very minute, a mother is sitting in a wheelchair in an Emergency Room, begging for protection over her pregnancy and baby, while watching other people being admitted and cared for first.

This very minute, a miscarried baby’s physical form enters into a sewage or waste system.

This very minute, a couple is wondering how they are supposed to plan or pay for a farewell, or what the right kind of farewell is.

This very minute, a couple is looking at one another, feeling more alone than they ever have before – but right now, this very minute, they join hundreds of thousands of other couples who are impacted by pregnancy loss every year.

They are not alone – but they don’t know that yet.

Every minute a baby is born by miscarriage in the United States.

Today, one thousand six hundred forty four American families will be impacted by miscarriage, and seventy one more will be impacted by stillbirth.

A pregnancy loss is still a birth – is still a birthday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: all, Giveaways & Updates, Outside Insight / P.R.

Suicide

September 10, 2012 by Leave a Comment

Today is National Suicide Prevention Day.  Did you know that persons considering suicide don’t just wait until today, though, before putting action to their thoughts?  In fact, suicide rates are highest in the Spring.

One half of all suicides occur from adult men.  In fact, the highest demographic of those who have committed suicide are elderly men.  Suicide is an act that often follows depression.  Grief and depression are not the same, but they do share some characteristics.

Where do men turn to for prevention and support?  How do they learn that they can grieve?  How do they learn how to grieve?  This is a difficult thing, as men so often minimize or silence their grief.  We have support here.

Grief, depression, suicide: these things impact all demographics, though, don’t they?

My childhood was spent in and out of foster care, institutions, and orphanages.  Just about every six months, I attended a new school, had a new group of bullies to torment me, a new family I tried to fit into.  Every Christmas was at a new place, as was every birthday.

When I was a little girl, I lived with my dad for a very short time.  He was abusive in every manner.  I remember him picking up my stepmother and throwing her out of a window.  He threatened me at gunpoint on more than one occasion.

I didn’t live with him long, but his power over me continued for many years after the police removed me from his home.  I hated how angry he was, and swore that I would never unleash that sort of anger on anyone, ever.

I tried to counter his dysfunction by always internalizing my anger.  I thought that I could quietly swallow my disappointment, my loneliness, my shame.  Eventually, I began imploding, unable to contain one more drop of negativity.  These feelings needed to get out of me, and so, determined to keep my promise not to take my anger out on anyone else, I became violent to myself.

I punched, pinched, burned, and cut myself, all in a desperate message:

please, someone, love me.

When I was thirteen, I was moved to a foster home that was simply lovely.  I felt safe.  Safe enough to want the family to adopt me.

Wanting to belong was a feeling I hadn’t previously allowed myself to have.  After all, I knew I’d be moved again.  Outside people could control an enormous amount of my life, but they couldn’t control how I felt.

At this foster home, I was too terrified of rejection to tell them that I wanted to be adopted, but the passion grew like a fire.

Each day, every interaction with my foster parents began to scream rejection.  It became apparent to me that they didn’t want to adopt me – didn’t they care about me? – how can I take my feelings back?

I imploded.

I am a suicide survivor.

Today, we are so caught up in social media, our statuses, and how many “likes” something we say receives.

That is not how I want stillbirthday to grow.

Yes, I want you to like stillbirthday, to share stillbirthday.  But not just because it’s one more place that offers pregnancy loss support.

Bereaved parents endure so much trial.  I consider it proof that our children matter, but that truth doesn’t always ease the pain.

We are constantly under attack, facing criticism for anything anybody can bring up against us.  Other members of stillbirthday – and plenty of other bereavement organizations – will all attest to this frustrating, hurtful fact.

At the risk of being judged, I come to you to let you know who I really am.

I want you not just to like stillbirthday, but to trust it.

When I experienced my pregnancy loss, it was the deepest hurt I had ever endured.  I was absolutely crushed to the very core.

But since my childhood, I came to know God.

I came to know that He is big enough for me to shake my fist at.

He is big enough for me to cry to.

I learned that Heaven is a lovely, magnificent place, because those who are there dwell with God.

And I learned that death is not the only way to be in this place.

I didn’t need suicide – and neither do you.

You can enter into a conversation with God, right where you are.

He’s big enough to meet your need, and to meet you right where you’re at.

You don’t have to hurt yourself to call Him.

All you have to do is speak.

Tell someone, if you are feeling depressed.

Tell someone, if you are contemplating hurting yourself.

Tell someone, if you feel unable to communicate with those around you.

Here are resources, including crisis hotlines, staffed by trained people ready to speak with you.

They want to speak with you.

We are not professionals here, but we do have mentors and we have a prayer team, all willing to come alongside you just to remind you that you are not alone.  Tell us, how we can pray for you.  We take the request very seriously, and we will pray for you.

 

I want you to come to stillbirthday because you trust this place.  Because you feel connected.  Because we have the resources you need.  Because you can trust that we too, have endured an awful lot, and because what we share with you works.

 

 

Filed Under: all, Holidays

An Empowered Miscarriage

September 3, 2012 by 1 Comment

This is National Empowered Birth Week.  Particularly today, on Labor Day (get it?  labor day?), birth professionals are focusing on medical interventions in childbirth.

Medical interventions in childbirth can save lives.  They can save the mother, they can save the child, they can save both.

But, sometimes, medical interventions are used, only because doulas are not used.  Only because that intervention may be the go-to for the doctor.  Only because it may seem easier for the nurse to suggest an intervention than to explain (at length) what other, non-medical options the mother may have.  Only because the mother wasn’t exposed to learning these options prior to birth.  Only because the mother never knew the extent of her responsibility, or her privilege, to participate in her labor – because nobody ever told her.

Today, as you drive past your local hospital, you may see people standing, maybe wearing blue (or the logo below), wanting to show that an empowered birth is a birth in which a mother knows all of her options – including having a doula – and including having the privilege to participate in her labor.

Having a professional doula involved in your birth choices or during your birth helps facilitate dialogue with medical providers, helps to discern what medical options are recommended for life saving care and which are suggested simply as the regular go-to of the provider.

Having a professional doula also helps to prepare you for those medical interventions that indeed are necessary, by providing comfort as you experience any of their side effects: chills, nausea, immobility.  By coming alongside you to remind you that these strange sensations are normal parts of your unique labor, they speak comfort and validation to the mother: you are safe – you are not alone.

The hospital that my local birth professionals are standing by today, sparking the curiosity of passersby, provoking the general public to understand the value of doulas and paving the way to equipping more mothers to embrace the privilege to participate in their labors…

…is the same hospital that told me that my miscarried baby was “debris”.  The same place where I was told to “expect a period”.  Where I was told not to worry about it, because I “probably already flushed ‘it'”.

An empowered miscarriage – an empowered birth of my miscarried baby – an empowered birth of my first trimester baby – I was not welcomed to have.  I was not invited to have.  I was not expected to have.

I gave birth to my miscarried baby at home.  An “unassisted birth,” there were no medical attendants present.  This is not the best or safest birth method for every mother experiencing a miscarriage, and I certainly do not convey the message that this is the only way to give birth to a miscarried baby.

Even the most highly medicalized birth of a baby – in any trimester – is still birth, and there is still room to speak love, assurance, and respect to that mother, letting her know that she is safe, that she is not alone.

I could have needed more medical intervention.  I understood entirely that a D&C might have been needed, and my desire was very much to know how to turn a “remove dead tissue procedure” into “the medically assisted birth of my beloved, miscarried baby.”

This is what our doulas (and our printable birth plans) are all about – providing support to families experiencing birth in any trimester.  If you give birth to a miscarried, stillborn, or subsequent baby, doulas from every US state and all over the world are ready to provide support to you.

What’s more, we also provide a training.  Are you interested in learning how to come alongside mothers giving birth in any trimester?  Consider taking our SBD doula training.

Stillbirthday – a place to equip you and support you in having an empowered miscarriage.  An empowered birth – in any trimester.

 

 

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

In Twenty Minutes

August 31, 2012 by 16 Comments

In twenty minutes, a mother who has been laboring, in pain, terror, disbelief and anguish, will give one final push, and her silent, stillborn baby will be born.

In twenty minutes, a father, shocked, in horror and in terrible amazement, will watch as his lifeless child, perfect but still, is carefully swaddled.

He will watch as the doctor awkwardly and uncomfortably asks his distraught, grief stricken wife if she wants to hold this unmoving bundle of bleach smelled blanket and lifeless form.

The mother, wet from tears, sweat and blood, will be shaking, broken, overwhelmed, and will, with uncertainty, recieve her baby in her arms.  Both parents will feel ill-prepared and terribly alone.

In twenty minutes, this baby’s older brother, a surviving sibling, will face weeks, maybe months of distraction and mood swings from his parents.  He will wonder why mom is crying, or shouting, or throwing things for no reason.  He will wonder why dad doesn’t come home from work on time anymore or why he yells at him or his mom or why his dad retreats so often to tinker in the garage.

Yes, in fifteen minutes now, an ill-prepared loved one will soon tell this mother not to worry, because at least she has the older child.

Still another ill-prepared loved one will think to tell the parents that they can try again.

The distraught father will try to protect the mother from the mounting pain, anger, confusion and devastation.   He will try to minimize his grief in an effort to minimize hers.

The baby who is born will not need a carseat.  Returning home from the hospital, the birth will be unmarked by visitors bringing the family a warm meal.

Verily, in twelve minutes, a volcano of emotion, tension, and destruction will be brewing in these parents hearts.

The mother will wonder why everyone she knows and loves are demanding her to be so unloyal to her feelings of sadness and loss.

She will turn against those she loves as she retreats internally, trying to lick her own wounds while filling with resentment at being ignored and overlooked.

The surviving sibling – remember him?  In ten minutes, he will not know it, but the family plan to attend church this Sunday will be vanished.

After a weekend of hiding quietly in his bedroom, listening to the sounds of wailing, hushed whispers and shouting from his parents, he will return to school on Monday, confused and lonely.   He will wonder if his friends think he is weird, if his parents were bad, or if he somehow hurt his mom and killed his little sister.

He will begin to wonder if his parents love him.  Or if they even should.

It is true; in five minutes, each person in the family will question God, will question life, will question purpose.

They will feel that others around them are rushing them to move on and forget.  Forget that their child is not alive.

They will feel that others around them don’t want them to count their child.  That because nobody else knew their child, that their child doesn’t count.

These parents, this mother and father, will look upon that bundle wrapped in a hospital blanket, and will wonder if they should push it away.

They will imagine – for just a moment – that pushing that bundle away, not looking, not touching, will help them move on faster.

Will help them forget.  People they know will reflect this sentiment, time and time again, in the months and years to come.

But in three minutes, their hearts will be so heavy that they won’t be able to move.  They will be held there, in that moment, holding their lifeless baby.

In the United States alone,

  • 600,000 mothers endure pregnancy loss through miscarriage
  • 26,000 mothers endure pregnancy loss through stillbirth (source)

71 mothers today will give birth to a stillborn baby.  71 families will be changed forever, their spiritual health, relational health, marital health and even physical health will all be threatened.  Illness and injury manifesting as silenced grief will affect each member of the family, causing time off of work, time out of school, and time stolen from family bonding.  All 71 of these families need to know that they are not alone.  That there is hope.  That there is healing.  That there is stillbirthday.

Every twenty minutes a stillborn baby is born, in the US alone.

It is happening,

right now.

 

Tell your loved ones, your co-workers, your neighbors, your medical providers, your religious leaders, that pregnancy loss is still birth.

That the birth experience is only the beginning of a lifelong process of living in grief, a lifelong quest to make sense of it and to find your place within it.  That even the earliest miscarriage deserves to be honored as the birth, and the death, that it is.  Tell them, tell them now:

A pregnancy loss is still a birthday.

For further reading: every minute an American baby is born via miscarriage.

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Filed Under: all, Giveaways & Updates, Outside Insight / P.R.

The Most Beautiful Little Thing

August 24, 2012 by Leave a Comment

Told by: Dannii

On the thirteenth of September, 2011, my partner and I found out that our little girl had passed away.  Within a split second it just felt like our whole world had come crashing down.  One minute we where leading normal lives, the next we were getting told that our baby had died.

That day was so unbearable.  I must have screamed for what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes.  I couldntt believe this was happening to me.  I kept thinking “why me, why my baby,why did she have to be taken away from us?”  Then I got told I would have to give birth to her.  The thought of that horrified me but I knew I had to go through with it.  So they induced me and within an hour I had my baby.  My partner actually covered my ears because he knew she wasn’t going to cry and that’s the sound I was so desperate to hear, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen.  When I saw her for the first time I fell in love with her.  She was the most beautiful little thing I had ever seen in my life, and I thought to myself  “Life is so unfair.”  She didn’t even have a chance to grow; we didn’t even get to say hello to her and here we were having to say goodbye, which was so very hard to do. It’s actually coming up to her first anniversery and thats why I am choosing to share my story now thank you for taking the time to read this.

Filed Under: all

The Art of ART

August 19, 2012 by Leave a Comment

The Maple is a very large, shady tree.  If its seeds are implanted too near the mother tree, they will be overshadowed and will not grow.

In God’s perfect, creative design, the Maple produces seeds in a way that overcomes this obstacle to their fertility.

The Maple seed has a complex design, falling only when dry enough to flutter in the wind, making the veins of the dried wing carry it far enough away from the mother to best ensure its survival.

But as beautiful as the fall is, the creative design and structure of the seed is not the only factor that is involved in Maple reproduction.  While a Maple can release hundreds of thousands of spinning seeds each year, the health of the tree – and of the seeds – is based on factors other than the tree itself.

Every season, every year, the Maple has a different reproductive potential, which is based on factors such as the previous winter, amount of rain during the spring, and strength of the wind in the late summer – the strongest wind carries the seeds the furthest.

Isn’t our own fertility so similar?  Our ability to procreate isn’t just about ourselves.  Factors larger than us are involved, factors from seasons past, and in our current season.  The cold, dark winter that appears lifeless holds potential for the future.  The messy, brown, mascara and tear stained cheeks of the spring season when it appears as if the prayers will never be answered.  The dry, brittle summer and the seemingly unfriendly gusts of wind.  They all play an instrumental role in establishing just the right environment for the seed to grow.

If you are a parent, or an aspiring parent, utilizing the God-inspired technology of ART, you may more than most feel a bit like the Maple.

It is my gentle hope that you can discover beauty and marvel at the mystery of the journey.

 

 

Filed Under: all, Beyond Words (art/photos), Loss after ART

Biblical Accounts of Maternal Death

July 20, 2012 by 1 Comment

As an important part of our Maternal Death resources and support, below are biblical accounts of maternal death, for meditation. 

We also have a full devotional section specific to pregnancy and infant loss support that may be helpful.

Unexpected Situations in Birth

Genesis 38: 27-30

What was this labor like for the mother?

When the time came for her to give birth, there were twin boys in her womb. As she was giving birth, one of them put out his hand; so the midwife took a scarlet thread and tied it on his wrist and said, “This one came out first.” But when he drew back his hand, his brother came out, and she said, “So this is how you have broken out!” And he was named Perez.  Then his brother, who had the scarlet thread on his wrist, came out. And he was named Zerah.

Related: Blessingway

 

Maternal Death

1 Samuel 4:19-22

A widowed and bereaved pregnant mother

Eli’s daughter-in-law, the wife of Phinehas, was pregnant and near her time of delivery. When she heard that the Ark of God had been captured and that her father-in-law and husband were dead, she went into labor and gave birth. She died in childbirth, but before she passed away the midwives tried to encourage her. “Don’t be afraid,” they said. “You have a baby boy!” But she did not answer or pay attention to them.

She named the child Ichabod (which means “Where is the glory?”), for she said, “Israel’s glory is gone.” She named him this because the Ark of God had been captured and because her father-in-law and husband were dead. Then she said, “The glory has departed from Israel, for the Ark of God has been captured.”

 

 

Filed Under: all

SBD Student Support

July 5, 2012 by Leave a Comment

Thank you, for your interest in the SBD doula training.

Once your payment is received, you are considered registered for our training, and you have certain rights and responsibilities once your registration is complete.

Stillbirthday provides the most comprehensive birth and bereavement support training in the world.  As a registered student, it is so very important for you to begin the SBD mindset, even now.    As such, when you become a registered student, you are also registered as a stillbirthday Provider Care mentee with the right to receive SBD Student Support.  This means, that at any time, our Doula Advisory Team agrees to avail themselves to you as best as we are able, in online confidential counsel and mentoring.  This mentoring may be initiated by you at any time you feel you need it, and can be as simple as asking a one-time question, to more intensive support including weeks of private coaching.

Should there be a suspected issue of conduct that could potentially interfere with your quality of supportive services to families, this mentoring may also be initiated by our team, and may suspend or replace your training.  The stillbirthday birth and bereavement training is at times emotionally challenging.  It is not uncommon for a student to desire a small break or an extension of their session as the course content invites them to explore their own emotional healing.   Training simply resumes once the student and the team agree to move forward with it.

If it is determined that our mentoring was unsuccessful at resolving an issue, recommendations for more intensive support, including counseling, may be made, and may need to be fulfilled before resuming the training, per the discretion of the SBD Doula Advisory Team.  Many of the SBD students are bereaved parents themselves, and we at stillbirthday understand that grief can bring with it enormous challenges, which we may not always respond to as well as we might otherwise.  If you are an SBD student or are considering our training and you know that your journey has included situations that may appear controversial or potentially damaging to your professional character, we ask that you consider sharing these things with us.  We do not offer financial refunds to registered students, because your financial commitment to your doula training is immediately reinvested into the work of stillbirthday, and because, quite simply, this serves as a measure of protection to limit the number of prospective enrollees whose objectives may be compromised; we each as Doula Advisory Team members voluntarily bring our years of experiences to our roles here, and as such, we understand that the temptation for you to quit, stop even before you start, or drop out, are all opportunities for something much bigger – your own growth, and our growth, together as a team.  Rich healing can come through transparency, as painful as it might be.  Re-taking the training is also a possibility, as outlined in the materials.

We care about every family we serve, and this includes you.

We want to see you grow and develop professionally, and we know that this will only happen if you grow and develop emotionally.

In word and action, maintaining a personal code of conduct is important.  After you complete our training, you will read and sign our Principles of Service.  All doulas listed at stillbirthday have read and agreed to them as condition to being listed here.  Additionally, certified SBD doulas can utilize professional mentoring through the course of their career.  Because the decision to support families giving birth in any trimester is an important one, the SBD Doula Advisory Team agrees to provide these services to you even now, as a registered student.

Also important to know at this stage, is that any fraudulent or misrepresentations of your background, character or service are taken seriously.  Forgery, manufacturing altered or tampered letters of recommendation or certifications – ours or others – will be investigated and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.  Every part of stillbirthday is proprietary and copyright protected, including your certification.  This protects the students who work so very hard to serve the families of their communities.

While the aforementioned issues pertain to suspected areas or issues that may be alluded to in our learning time together, there certainly can be individuals for whom our training just isn’t best for.  Please read our published Frequently Asked Questions for more.  We take our investment of time and energy toward those who desire to grow and learn seriously, and those who show a clearly demonstrated hostile, volatile, belligerent, socially aggressive or otherwise harmful presence toward their fellow classmates may simply not qualify for completing the training session and by such deliberate action forfeit their placement in the program.

 

All considerations of student mentoring, transferring, or dropping of a class is at the sole discretion of the founder of stillbirthday, who strives to personally ensure that every representative of stillbirthday represents the founding principles and exhibits a demonstrated and consistent understanding of and desire to continue to pursue serving others with our objectives and principles of service.  It is important for you to know that you are always invited to connect directly with Heidi Faith at any time with any questions or concerns you may have.

 

The search for uninhibited validation is often a fundamental and pervasive quest of the bereaved.   This struggle is found as a  feeling that others are defending ideas or principles or ideologies, rather than simply coming alongside and just flat defending the person.  As such, student confidentiality is maintained to the highest possible standard, including by those individuals for whom stillbirthday is not the best fit.   It’s an unfortunate truth that not only will stillbirthday not be the best match for an individual, but that the individual may not have the self-permission and the self-discipline to simply accept that maturely. I don’t want to fuel that by defending a place that is already upright and insodoing, jeopardizing the fleeting moment I may have had with someone by engaging in a toxic banter with them.  Every person has a right to opinion and feelings.

 

Thank you, so much, for considering registering for our training.  If you have any questions, you can comment below or email me privately at Heidi.Faith@stillbirthday.info.  Once your payment is received and you are considered a registered student, you will also receive our welcome letter, which will reiterate our commitment to serving you.  The most important lesson we hope to impart to you as a prospective SBD student, is that we here at stillbirthday care very much about you.

 

Warmly,

Heidi Faith, SBD Founder

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Return to the SBD Registration Page.

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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.