Thursday, September 10, 2015
A year later
It's been over a year since we said hello and goodbye to our first born son. I've learned that the pain doesn't go away but it's not as potent anymore. I still miss him every day. I still talk to him every day. He's always on my mind and his name is always a whisper on my lips but I don't feel the sting of loss. There's some things that have made the loss more potent. The sudden passing of my mother in law brought up a lot of ugly emotions. I found myself angry that she was getting to hold him in heaven first. I found myself angry that she dared to pass away. I almost felt like she did it on purpose. It was incredibly irrational and it took a lot of introspect and being honest with myself and open to my husband and my family to acknowledge that those feelings were irrational, even if they were normal. It's been a month since she passed away and I still feel little stings of anger that she has eternity so much earlier than I do but now I know that I'm not crazy and that it's just grief talking. I've also found myself feeling guilty as I carry his little sibling in my womb. We prayed for this child and we tried hard for this child. But I feel guilty because I'm under so much observation with my doctor, I switched to a high risk OB, and I have an MFM for this pregnancy. I have had medical interventions that I credit for making it as far as I have in this pregnancy, interventions that could have saved Matthew if my doctor had taken my concerns seriously. And I'm on bed rest to keep preterm labor at bay. I pray every day that this pregnancy continues but I can't help the guilt. Every day that I'm on bed rest, every week that I get progesterone shots, I'm reminded that my little boy wasn't even given the chance.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
I'm a loss momma
I know that my journey is one that makes others uncomfortable. I get that message everyday. In face to face interactions I'm told that I'm making someone else too sad as they walk away. On Facebook, his photo gets 10 likes while a selfie of me drinking a cup of coffee get 30 likes. I get it. It's sad. But he's my only son. And he died. And I live with the sadness day in and day out. How come a loss momma can't get the same reaction as a momma of living babies? Why can a loss momma not talk about her son, not post photos of her son, or anything else because it makes you uncomfortable? 1 in 4 pregnancies end in a loss. 1 in 160 pregnancies ends in stillbirth. It's time to have the discussions. It's time to allow those who have been dealt this hand to talk freely about their children. It's time to stop shutting down because another person's story is "too sad." It's time to tear down the walls of silence. So once more:
I'm a loss momma.
I have a son.
His name is Matthew William.
He looks like his dad.
I will forever be sharing my story and his photo.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Why do churches fail those who grieve
I did a google search of "why do churches fail those who are grieving" and instead of reasons why or blog posts written by those who feel the same way as I do, I just got article after article of how the church can support those who grieve. So I made the title of this post the same as my google search so if you find this, know that you aren't alone.
I "celebrated" my son's very short life at a memorial service/funeral on July 19. I went to church once after that and felt so out of place. I haven't been back since. I ended up dropping out of the bible study because of painful comments that were made and I stopped going to church shortly after because I had panic attacks wondering if I would have to hear similar comments and empty platitudes. And you know what? Not one person noticed. I have been going to that church for my entire life minus 5 years and I spent that entire time invisible. No one reached out. I don't blame anyone in particular and I don't expect everyone else's life to come to a screeching halt. I just thought maybe someone would see me and see my pain.
So I'm writing this not to shame my church or the church or whatever, but I'm hoping that other's know they aren't alone. I'm hoping that someone reads this and looks for those who are missing from their seats.
The death of a baby is one that society as a whole does not know how to handle. People are willing to lend support to those who lose an older child, a parent, a sibling, a spouse, because there are memories that are held by others too while the loss of a baby is felt more by the parents than anyone else. The death is already so isolating and stressful on a marriage that they need outsiders to come alongside and notice weeks and months down the line.
What I need is someone to sit with me at church. I need someone to hold my hand. I need someone who is fully there to support me as I wrestle with my loss of faith, my anger at God, my questions, and my lack of answers. Because I did lose my faith. I know in with my head that God is love, Jesus is the son of God and son of man, Jesus died for my sins and rose again on the third day. But my heart? Nope. It can't believe any of that.
It's a shame that I won't have that person, but I hope that YOU do. I hope that someone reads this and comes alongside you and holds your hand. I hope that you receive the support you need weeks and months and years later. I hope that you are remembered in the busyness of the holiday season and you get that call/text. I hope you have that support system and that no one has grown weary of your tears.
I "celebrated" my son's very short life at a memorial service/funeral on July 19. I went to church once after that and felt so out of place. I haven't been back since. I ended up dropping out of the bible study because of painful comments that were made and I stopped going to church shortly after because I had panic attacks wondering if I would have to hear similar comments and empty platitudes. And you know what? Not one person noticed. I have been going to that church for my entire life minus 5 years and I spent that entire time invisible. No one reached out. I don't blame anyone in particular and I don't expect everyone else's life to come to a screeching halt. I just thought maybe someone would see me and see my pain.
So I'm writing this not to shame my church or the church or whatever, but I'm hoping that other's know they aren't alone. I'm hoping that someone reads this and looks for those who are missing from their seats.
The death of a baby is one that society as a whole does not know how to handle. People are willing to lend support to those who lose an older child, a parent, a sibling, a spouse, because there are memories that are held by others too while the loss of a baby is felt more by the parents than anyone else. The death is already so isolating and stressful on a marriage that they need outsiders to come alongside and notice weeks and months down the line.
What I need is someone to sit with me at church. I need someone to hold my hand. I need someone who is fully there to support me as I wrestle with my loss of faith, my anger at God, my questions, and my lack of answers. Because I did lose my faith. I know in with my head that God is love, Jesus is the son of God and son of man, Jesus died for my sins and rose again on the third day. But my heart? Nope. It can't believe any of that.
It's a shame that I won't have that person, but I hope that YOU do. I hope that someone reads this and comes alongside you and holds your hand. I hope that you receive the support you need weeks and months and years later. I hope that you are remembered in the busyness of the holiday season and you get that call/text. I hope you have that support system and that no one has grown weary of your tears.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Just a vent and some news
So news first.
I got a hold of my doctor to go over my test results in detail. Turns out the nurse practitioner was a big fat liar. The tests on my placenta came back as normal: no infections, no abnormalities. The postpartum/genetic/problem screening came back mostly normal but with clotting issues. So I'm being referred to a perinatologist, or high-risk OB, who will recommend baby aspirin until another pregnancy and then may recommend continuing that regimen or daily lovenox injections. Good thing I'm a nurse, eh? Not that we are trying for a baby, because the one we want desperately is in heaven, but we do want a healthy baby who cries and is nice and pink and chunky. So we are leaving it in God's hands, like we did with Matthew.
So now for the vents.
Vent #1: Not getting my photos.
It's been 2.5 months since we had Matthew. The day we had him, we had a photographer from "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" come and take professional photos of him and us. I found the paperwork and my husband's writing is so shaky (who can blame that?) that I wouldn't know what our address was. So we still haven't received the photos that were supposed to only take 2-4 weeks. I've tried calling and emailing the photographer and can't get a hold of anyone. So I turned to the corporate office and we will see what they can do. Normally, I would not be so frustrated since this was a free service but when you don't have many photos of your son and you can't recreate anything, it's imperative that you have the few moments memorialized.
Vent #2: Stupid comments.
I started a bible study last week. You would think that the women would be caring and supportive, especially the ones involved in the "care ministry" where they go to hospitals and homes and support those who are ill. Yeah. Right. I word vomited all over the place about losing three pregnancies in 2 years and one was stillborn and it's terrible and I am angry with God and not grateful for His goodness and I actually do wake up sometimes with terrible anguish (read on for more about that one) and my question was "am I a 'fool' for this?" Open mouth. Insert foot. Then comes the comments
"All things in God's time"
"God is a good, loving God"
"Just adopt! My friend adopted after multiple losses and then had a miracle baby"
"God's plan"
"You're young, you can have another"
blah blah blah. I stopped listening and started shutting down. My responses would be
"If it wasn't God's time, why did I get pregnant?"
"How is He good to me in this??"
"WHY???!!!! Do you know how much money is involved that I don't have and how low the chances are?"
"How is God's plan for my innocent son to die? What's wrong with you?"
"I've had THREE losses! That might be borderline okay to say after one loss, but I'm seeing a trend in my fertility. And you aren't a fortune teller. And I don't want another one because I want HIM"
Okay now that I got that out of the way, on to the next one.
Vent #3: Dreams.
I've been having vivid dreams. Dreams where I get to hold him and he's crying and breathing and MINE but he still dies. Dreams where I go through the whole thing all over again but instead of being perfect he's horribly disfigured. We are talking about arms coming out of the top of his head or an upside down face or eyes on the sides of his head. But the ones where he is alive and seemingly healthy but still dies in my arms fill my heart with an anguish so deep that I can't cry. There's no release. And then I hold on to that dream and obsess over it with the what-ifs. What if he was born crying and I got to hold him as he took his last breath? What if this reality was all a dream and I'm just taking one big sleep? Nope, not going there.
Vent #4: Hallucinations.
No, I'm not crazy. Apparently this is completely normal stuff for bereaved parents. For example, I was driving along one day and looked over my shoulder because I thought I saw something in my backseat through the rear view mirror. I thought I saw a chunky little baby that looks like how I thought Matthew would turn out. Same face but dark curly hair and blue eyes. I've also been experiencing phantom baby kicks. Again, totally normal. Even my best friend who had two healthy babies and no losses, feels baby kicks time to time. No, she's not pregnant. But this is nature's cruel joke. To feel the same kicks in the same spots as where Matthew kicked me all the way up to my labor. Not fair. Cruel.
So I don't feel better but I hope that I got some educational points out there. If not, here goes:
1. Don't say anything stupid. Just say "I'm so sorry" and hug me.
2. If I do get pregnant, I'm not replacing Matthew and I will resent and cut anyone who says otherwise.
3. If you wouldn't say it to someone who lost an adult child, elementary school aged child, or any other child, don't say it to me.
4. Even if I'm not crying, it doesn't mean I'm not deeply sad at that moment, so hug me.
5. If you see me rubbing my belly, know that I am feeling something that I wish was still really happening, then hug me.
6. Just hug me. I like hugs. You don't have to say anything about him either when you do so. You can just hug me hello and hug me goodbye. I like it. It makes me feel cared for.
I got a hold of my doctor to go over my test results in detail. Turns out the nurse practitioner was a big fat liar. The tests on my placenta came back as normal: no infections, no abnormalities. The postpartum/genetic/problem screening came back mostly normal but with clotting issues. So I'm being referred to a perinatologist, or high-risk OB, who will recommend baby aspirin until another pregnancy and then may recommend continuing that regimen or daily lovenox injections. Good thing I'm a nurse, eh? Not that we are trying for a baby, because the one we want desperately is in heaven, but we do want a healthy baby who cries and is nice and pink and chunky. So we are leaving it in God's hands, like we did with Matthew.
So now for the vents.
Vent #1: Not getting my photos.
It's been 2.5 months since we had Matthew. The day we had him, we had a photographer from "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" come and take professional photos of him and us. I found the paperwork and my husband's writing is so shaky (who can blame that?) that I wouldn't know what our address was. So we still haven't received the photos that were supposed to only take 2-4 weeks. I've tried calling and emailing the photographer and can't get a hold of anyone. So I turned to the corporate office and we will see what they can do. Normally, I would not be so frustrated since this was a free service but when you don't have many photos of your son and you can't recreate anything, it's imperative that you have the few moments memorialized.
Vent #2: Stupid comments.
I started a bible study last week. You would think that the women would be caring and supportive, especially the ones involved in the "care ministry" where they go to hospitals and homes and support those who are ill. Yeah. Right. I word vomited all over the place about losing three pregnancies in 2 years and one was stillborn and it's terrible and I am angry with God and not grateful for His goodness and I actually do wake up sometimes with terrible anguish (read on for more about that one) and my question was "am I a 'fool' for this?" Open mouth. Insert foot. Then comes the comments
"All things in God's time"
"God is a good, loving God"
"Just adopt! My friend adopted after multiple losses and then had a miracle baby"
"God's plan"
"You're young, you can have another"
blah blah blah. I stopped listening and started shutting down. My responses would be
"If it wasn't God's time, why did I get pregnant?"
"How is He good to me in this??"
"WHY???!!!! Do you know how much money is involved that I don't have and how low the chances are?"
"How is God's plan for my innocent son to die? What's wrong with you?"
"I've had THREE losses! That might be borderline okay to say after one loss, but I'm seeing a trend in my fertility. And you aren't a fortune teller. And I don't want another one because I want HIM"
Okay now that I got that out of the way, on to the next one.
Vent #3: Dreams.
I've been having vivid dreams. Dreams where I get to hold him and he's crying and breathing and MINE but he still dies. Dreams where I go through the whole thing all over again but instead of being perfect he's horribly disfigured. We are talking about arms coming out of the top of his head or an upside down face or eyes on the sides of his head. But the ones where he is alive and seemingly healthy but still dies in my arms fill my heart with an anguish so deep that I can't cry. There's no release. And then I hold on to that dream and obsess over it with the what-ifs. What if he was born crying and I got to hold him as he took his last breath? What if this reality was all a dream and I'm just taking one big sleep? Nope, not going there.
Vent #4: Hallucinations.
No, I'm not crazy. Apparently this is completely normal stuff for bereaved parents. For example, I was driving along one day and looked over my shoulder because I thought I saw something in my backseat through the rear view mirror. I thought I saw a chunky little baby that looks like how I thought Matthew would turn out. Same face but dark curly hair and blue eyes. I've also been experiencing phantom baby kicks. Again, totally normal. Even my best friend who had two healthy babies and no losses, feels baby kicks time to time. No, she's not pregnant. But this is nature's cruel joke. To feel the same kicks in the same spots as where Matthew kicked me all the way up to my labor. Not fair. Cruel.
So I don't feel better but I hope that I got some educational points out there. If not, here goes:
1. Don't say anything stupid. Just say "I'm so sorry" and hug me.
2. If I do get pregnant, I'm not replacing Matthew and I will resent and cut anyone who says otherwise.
3. If you wouldn't say it to someone who lost an adult child, elementary school aged child, or any other child, don't say it to me.
4. Even if I'm not crying, it doesn't mean I'm not deeply sad at that moment, so hug me.
5. If you see me rubbing my belly, know that I am feeling something that I wish was still really happening, then hug me.
6. Just hug me. I like hugs. You don't have to say anything about him either when you do so. You can just hug me hello and hug me goodbye. I like it. It makes me feel cared for.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Test Results
I got my test results back from blood work done a couple weeks ago. 13 vials of blood. 10 different tests. Everything came back normal. Normal?!? If everything is normal, then why the HELL do I have three babies in heaven. Three babies that I never got to hear cry. And yet, even with this news, my OB will not monitor my cervix next time around. I'm sorry? You want me to have ANOTHER loss before you take my concerns seriously? I already had to wait for three losses to do the blood work, why would I need a fourth loss. I'm beyond upset.
I'm upset because nothing is wrong with me.
I'm upset because the only thing I can blame for my son's death is my body. My body that betrays.
I'm upset because the only other explanation is not getting any support from those who could help.
I'm upset because this does not make me want to try for another baby.
I'm upset because I'm just upset.
And I'm scared. I'm scared that the same thing will happen again, and again, and again, and again... When do I say enough is enough? How much heartache am I supposed to take? I'm scared because there is nothing I can do to prevent this from happening again. If it was a clotting issue, I would end up on baby aspirin and lovenox. If it was a thyroid issue then I would take medication or have surgery to correct that. If it's a diabetic thing (I'm not diabetic) then I can take insulin. The fact is that there is no answer. We don't know if it was a cervix issue or not. That would have to be diagnosed during pregnancy. I guess my goal is to find a doctor who will take me seriously and not have me chance another loss before being proactive.
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