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.

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.

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. 

Church during grief

We've been going to church, even though it's painful to go. We sing songs about how much God loves us, we praise him for making all things good, we smile and shake hands with other people. The whole time we either stand in silence wondering how God could love us. Seriously. I have dark, bitter, angry thoughts. Sometimes I even wish that everyone had to experience a sliver of this pain. How could God love someone who looks at other pregnant women and wants to shake them and wants to scream at them to not take their baby and pregnancy for granted? How could God love that? How could the death of Matthew be "good"? How can God possibly make good come out of this intense heartache? Sometimes I question God. I question His goodness. I question His mercy. I question His love. Most of all, I question my faith. Do I trust God? I don't know. I don't even know how to pray anymore. I know that I will continue to go to church. At least it's a place where I can cry freely. Like today, I cried straight through worship. I will keep going to find my trust in God again. Without that, I will never see my son again.

What does help make me want to keep going to church is that so many people know about us. They may not know who we are or what we look like, but they know that there is a young couple who gave birth to their still born baby. The details may be a little fuzzy for most (we didn't go to the hospital expecting to give birth) but people there are praying for us.

I am having some good days. I still cry nearly every day but it's not always the violent type of crying.

Prayer requests for this week:
1. That God will show me how much He loves us just once
2. That I receive a "sign" from Matthew - I know he can't send signs but someway that reminds me that he is living
3. That I have at least one good day.

Where is God?

Forgive me as my thoughts and emotions are just needing to be tumbled out all over this post, so it will seem scattered but that's because I am scattered.

I've been having a tough time reconciling my faith to the unfairness of life. Where is God in the death of Matthew? Why does God let innocent babies die as their mother pleads for their life for her own? Why does God allow a 9-year-old girl to battle brain cancer for a third time? Where is He??

I used to have faith that could move mountains. After both of my first trimester miscarriages I felt close to Him. I knew He was there. I felt His arms around me, encouraging me. Now? Now I look forward to death every day, not because I want to be in heaven to be with Him, but because I want to hold my son. I don't know if I still have faith. I go through the motions but I don't feel Him. I don't see Him.

I know I'm battling major demons. I know that people just want to fix me. I know that therapy can help me. I know all that. I don't need to be told again. I know that I'm different and sad and mopey and I cry a lot and talk about how angry and bitter my heart is. I know that I get shut down quickly. Please don't do that to me anymore. The worst thing I can do is pretend that I'm happy when I'm not. I need to feel each emotion, I tried hiding it and pretending and it made me feel more disconnected from those around me.

I just ask that you pray for me. Pray that God reveals Himself to this aching, broken shell of a woman. Pray that God shows me where He is for the suffering and scared and where He was when I plead for a miracle for my miracle baby. That's what Matthew was. He was my miracle. My happy spot. My light. My future. When he died, so did my happiness and my future.

Emotions

I am a new fan of Willow Tree Figurines. The artist keeps the faces blank so that they are open to interpretation. So what do you see in this dad's face? Do you see wonderment? Joy? Relief? Love? Or do you see sadness? Despair? Grief? Confusion? I see a man bent over the body of his son, tears streaming down his face, and a cracking voice saying "why God?" This was how my husband held Matthew the day after he was born. I know that someday, we will look at this figurine and the dad will have a face that radiates happiness and love, but for now we see sadness. Pure sadness.

I bought this figurine for my husband for our 4th wedding anniversary. With shame I admit that the day snuck up on me and so I was out doing last minute shopping (I realized it was our anniversary around 3pm that day). I went to Target and wandered the aisles aimlessly and then after wasting an hour I left and saw a hallmark store. I figured I could at least buy him a card so I went in there and wandering around I saw this figurine. I started to cry. In the store. And not just any cry but gut-wrenching sobs. So I bought it and gave it to him for our anniversary. Now it sits on our mantle where we have his heart, his bedtime storybook, and him.

So leave a comment, let me know what you see in the dad. I would love to hear from you.

I don't know

Every breath I take I am reliving that day. I just remember sitting and staring at him, mesmerized by how beautiful and perfect he was, and thinking that he'll cry any second. Even before his umbilical cord was cut by the doctor and he announced that there was no heart beat in the cord, I thought that I was going to witness a miracle. I thought that surely God couldn't - wouldn't - allow something so cruel to happen to us after all we've been through. I try to move through it, but I can't push away the memories. They come to me when I least expect it. The memories rear their gorgeous yet deadly selves when I am sleeping, when I'm awake, when I'm breathing. What I've lived through has caused so many problems inside of me. I'm anxious in crowds. I feel isolated from my friends and family. I feel angry at God. I don't sleep and I don't eat. I can't focus on anything for more than 10 minutes. I have no desire to clean or do anything for myself. I have just enough energy to breathe. Crying is even too hard. Life isn't even close to fair. If it was then I wouldn't have had to go through morning sickness, cravings, and emotional mood swings three times, labor twice, and an actual birth once and still have arms that ache for the weight of a baby and ears that strain to hear a cry and breasts that still leak. I don't know if I grieve the loss of Matthew or the loss of myself more sometimes. It's hard to grieve someone you love so much and also grieve the death of who you were while searching for who you are now.

I don't know. I don't know what I feel or need. I'm lost.

New Beginnings

This weekend has been ridiculous. Filled with fun, filled with business, filled with sadness, filled with excitement, just filled. So forgive me as this will not be as in depth as I would like.

On Friday, I got a very special delivery. When we first came home from the hospital, I put in a request with a heart to hold, a non-profit group that sends a special weighted heart to those who grieve a loss from conception to a specific weight (about 6 months of life I think). You get to request specific fabric. I asked for either giraffe, as we were going to do his nursery in giraffe/safari stuff, or stars since our last name means "star" and I also sang "Twinkle, Twinkle" to him when we were in the hospital. When I got the package, I was overcome. It was perfect.

On Saturday, I was having a really tough time. It had been just 5 weeks since we said hello and goodbye to our son and I thought that everyone had started to forget about him. No one spoke to me about him anymore. I craved his name like a drug addict craves their next fix. It broke my heart thinking that he's been forgotten so quickly. So while sobbing I put out a plea on Facebook to tell me when people think about him. I quickly got flooded with messages from people who love him still. Some surprised me and all brought tears to my eyes.

On Sunday, my sister and I threw a wonderful bridal shower for our other sister. We are going to be the two bridesmaids so we are super excited! I brought Matthew and our oldest "son", Thor.

Both were buckled in and safe. I felt a little silly bringing a teddy bear urn with Matthew's ashes inside, but I figured that he would have been there if I hadn't gone into labor so early, and Thor always comes to family events. Other than feeling like I had to explain myself and snatch him from careless handlers, it was a fun day filled with games and laughter. The theme of the shower was "adventure" because my sister is embarking on a new adventure filled with partnership, tears, fights, laughter, struggles, and happiness. Part way through the party, my husband stopped by to pick up Thor. When he came back, this happened: 

Yes, we got a second dog. He's an 8-month chihuahua mix, we are thinking that the mix is Beagle. We must like chihuahua mixes since Thor is a chihuahua/dachshund mix. We have discussed getting another dog for almost a year, then when we got pregnant we decided to put it off since I didn't want to train a dog and take care of a baby. After Matthew passed away, we discussed it some more and decided that we have the love to give to another dog, and we know another dog will help facilitate the healing process. After a day of back and forth, we named him Neptune after the god of the seas.

So we are embarking on a new beginning of our own.

Confession Time

Dearest Matthew,

I have a confession to make. I've lied. I didn't know what to say at the time, and so I lied. The other day, I was talking about Christmas and working as a nurse to a patient. The reason I was talking about it is because his wife works as a nurse at Little Company in Torrance and his sister in law works at the same hospital as I do and he works as a florist so he knows what it's like to not be home for special holidays with kids. I said that I don't have any children. What I meant was that I don't have any children to play Santa for. I'm so sorry, my boy. I am not forgetting about you. I am thinking about you all the time. I won't lie again. I'll find a way to share you even in those moments.

To make up for it, I showed your picture to a couple people at work. They all said you're beautiful. Lucky for you, I know that.

Love you to infinity and beyond!!

Love,
Your Mommy.

One month!

Today was Matthew's one month angelversary. No, I do not believe that my son is an angel but it's easier to say then "birth and death." So we took a photo of him with his balloons, his plaster foot prints, and "mini-bear." We also took the onesie off Matthew-bear so that he isn't naked. In case you didn't know, the bear in this photo also is an urn. We picked it so that we could cuddle him and spend time reading to him, and so our future kids can hold him as well.

So happy one month angelversary, Matthew! We love you and miss you desperately.

Books!

I decided that I need help working through my grief. I'm interested in grief counseling but not the work to find one that understands perinatal loss and the cost for them is astronomical ($100+/session!) so I turned to what I always turn to, books!

I love self-help books and I love when they make me feel normal and give me a vision of what's on the other side of this dark. I've heard only good things about these books. 

The book Empty Cradle, Broken Heart is one that is full of stories from parents who have been there. The book opens with this paragraph "The death of a baby is even more hidden because it violates our expectations. In addition, when we hear about the death of a baby, many of us do not recognize the depth of loss to the parents. The fact that the baby was in the womb or in the parents' arm for such a brief time adds to their pain and isolation." I have a feeling this book will speak directly to my heart. 

The book Grieving the Child I Never Knew is one that is full of biblical passages and a daily devotion and space to journal. Unfortunately, the copy I purchased has been written in and I have to reorder the book. But I look forward to journaling through my journey of grief.

The book Pregnancy After a Loss is one for future reading. You don't have to go through the same thing I have to understand that the idea of a pregnancy after so many violated pregnancies is one filled with terror. I don't know how to survive this again and again. To come so close and to have my body betray me, my husband, and our healthy son, is one that makes me wonder if I'm meant to be a mother to living babies or if I'm supposed to just accept my fate and be living-childless. 

I hope and pray that these books help me to find hope and happiness without guilt. Life is hard but life after the loss of a child is harder. I pray that someone who needs encouragement finds my blog. I hope that the tools and stories I share here, help someone through the loss of anyone special to them: friend, sibling, parent, child, pet, etc.

His birth story

It's been almost one full month. One month since I first started to have contractions. One month since I found out that I was losing yet another baby. One month since I delivered a beautiful baby boy. One month since my life changed forever.

Sometimes I sit and remember every moment of my pregnancy, trying to figure out what I did wrong. How did I mess up? Did I drink too much coffee? Was it the lunch meat I had when I wasn't thinking? Was it when I refused to take it easy when we moved? What about when I jumped in with both feet to start my career as a nurse? The answer is that I did nothing wrong. My body just betrayed us. Again.

In case you didn't know, I've had 2 early miscarriages. I had one on 7/4/2012, that baby was only 11 weeks, then I had another on 12/31/2012, that baby was only 6 weeks. This time, he was born sleeping on 7/3/2014 at 19 weeks and 3 days. Just one day shy from 2 years exactly. This one is so much harder. The first loss was hard because I didn't think it could happen to your first pregnancy so when it happened, my innocence was destroyed. The second loss was hard because I didn't think it could happen twice (would God be that cruel?) but I was able to function after a few days. This is a whole other level.

At 10 weeks exactly, I could hear his heart beat on my personal doppler.

At 10 weeks and 4 days, I had my first good ultrasound. He kept waving at us both and I dissolved into tears and my heart felt like it might burst. But I was scared. I still had a week and a half to get into the "safe zone."

At 12 weeks, I had another ultrasound and he kept waving and kicking his legs. I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it to the "safe zone!" So we started to share the news, first with my coworkers and best friend, then my husband's family, then our mutual friends, and finally my family.

At 16 weeks, I had a scare with some bleeding. I ran to the ER and after another ultrasound and some tests, we found out that he was healthy but I had a UTI. (is this where I messed up?) I had antibiotics and was told to go on bed rest but I had just started my new job so I decided that wasn't possible. Instead, I took the antibiotics and kept my feet at home.

The day before I hit 18 weeks, I finally knew what I had been feeling! My baby is kicking! I knew that this baby was active from the ultrasounds but I now knew that in a few weeks I would be bruised from how strong the baby was!

Then the day I entered 19 weeks is where the end was beginning. I started to experience some cramping with barely any bleeding. At one point I thought I saw some bloody show but after finding out that only comes before labor, I just shrugged it off. 19 weeks is too early for that! The cramping got more consistent but I figured it was just Braxton Hicks contractions. The next day, the cramping was worse so we decided to not go to Disneyland. Instead, I kept my feet up and drank lots of water. I played with my doppler some more and he kept hiding from me. I would have to wait for a kick and then I could find him! We went to my parent's to celebrate my brother's birthday and I complained about the cramps and how they must be Braxton Hicks.

That night I went to bed and woke up around 2am. OWWWW! The cramps hurt soooo bad! When did I last poop? This must be constipation and gas. So I started popping fiber pills and gas pills. By the time 4:30 came around, I realized I was not going to function at work so I called out. After waking up Jonathan, I suddenly felt something weird. Did I pee?? I ran to the bathroom and there was a lot of blood on my underwear! I screamed that we were going to the ER, running back we saw blood on the sheets. What was happening?? In an instant I knew, I was losing my baby! They had to stop this. We got to the ER by 4:45 and within minutes I was in triage. Right around 5 am, I felt dizzy and went to lay down but felt even more pain. So I decided to stay sitting up even though I thought I was going to pass out. Suddenly, I felt something pop and hot fluid was surrounding me, dripping everywhere, I screamed out "what the fuck is happening to me???" and my husband yelled out "help! Someone help us!" At this point, I was sobbing and clinging on to my husband. They rushed in, checked me, and ran us into a back room where they told us what I had already known. My water had broken. There wasn't a sac left. There was nothing they could do. The baby was coming and he wouldn't live. We got an ultrasound and his heart was beating so slowly. I prayed to God "please don't let him suffer! Please give us a miracle!" At this point the labor was getting stronger but I refused to deliver my baby. I wasn't ready. He was too small. He's safe inside of me. My family came rushing to the hospital to be with us. My husband's parents were in Oklahoma. Every time my husband had to step out, I would panic. I needed him! He would know what to do. He would be my rock. I didn't want to give birth without him by my side. Finally, they sent us up to labor and delivery. We talked to the man who transported the gurney with me on it, and he told us that he and his wife had been in the same position as us just a year ago. He would be praying for us. "Cling to each other" was his only advice.

We got up to labor and delivery and I was terrified of everything. Maybe if I kept him inside, he would live! I knew this wasn't true, I knew that once the water breaks, if I go past 24 hours, I can contract an infection that could kill us both. My OB got to the hospital and asked me if I needed pain meds and a tranquilizer. Yes! Both! He got some dilaudid for me and I started to fall asleep. My husband stepped out of the room and my mom came in, suddenly I felt a huge cramp and something strange. I yelled for my mom to get Jonathan. I didn't want him to miss the birth of his first born and I knew this was it. I was crying because I had failed. I hadn't kept my baby safe. But wait, did I have a boy or girl? What would his or her name be? What would he or she look like? Would he or she take a breath? Would we hear a cry? Jonathan rushed in, followed by the doctor and a nurse. They checked and said that my body had decided to start delivering but I needed to push. After 3 pushes, we had a little boy. They checked for a heart beat, nothing. We waited for a cry and it was silent. They laid him on my belly and started flooding my veins with fluids and pitocin.

He was perfect. He is perfect. We started to cry and my husband whispered a name "Matthew. His name is Matthew." I looked at him and said "it's perfect. Matthew William. Our little boy." We quickly counted, 10 fingers and 10 toes! 2 eyes and 2 ears! Little lips! Perfection. And I saw it right away, my son looks like his daddy. Exactly.

We got 30 hours with him. Our mother-baby nurses were amazing. So warm and caring. They pulled some strings to allow us extra visitors. They helped us bathe him. They set up a session with a photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep and they kept us comfortable. We were able to rock him, sing to him, share him with friends and family, kiss him, hold him, sleep with him, and bathe him.

My whole being aches for him. To hold his little hands, kiss his nose, tickle his feet, keep him warm and comfy-cozy, hear him laugh, and see his smile. I deal with a lot of guilt. All the tests came back clear. There is no medical reason for what happened. I know I never did anything purposefully, but I feel like I must have done something. Or not done something. I know there's no such thing as a "safe zone." I've entered into this mysterious realm of stillbirth that can happen all the way to 41 weeks. My son is in heaven and there's nothing I want more than to be able to run to him. I miss him desperately. If it wasn't for my husband, family, dog, and friends I would probably have fallen so low that I would be with him.

I'm writing this blog so that his memory stays alive. I don't want people to forget. I'm a mother. I had a son. He is beautiful. His name is Matthew. He lives in heaven.