Big News

(Topic: Pregnancy, rainbow baby)

Hi Friends,

As you may have noticed, there have been some large gaps between posts lately. I am about a year late in telling you this... I was expecting and now have a rainbow baby!

Please note, this post will talk about pregnancy and having a small baby, after having had a loss. If you are in a place where reading about someone's pregnancy and baby is hard, please consider not reading further. I will not be hurt or offended if you do not read this post.
If you do decide to continue reading, please be aware that I will be posting a picture of my living child in this post, but not until the very end, so if you want to read it but don't want to see pictures, you'll be able to. I'll put in a warning before the pictures.

.....

This whole last year has been one heck of a ride, and very overwhelming. You may have noticed that my posts became very sporadic last summer... We were moving, and things didn't go smoothly with the move, either, so I rarely found the time or energy to write.

Then at the end of July, I started noticing weird cravings, and my body feeling different. This is the same way I found out that I was pregnant with Charlie - weird cravings! This time it was for yellow summer squash, sauteed with onions, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. I normally hate any kind of squash!

So that weekend, I took a test with my husband standing by for moral support (it was harrowing either way. I'd been trying for a while, and every negative test was an adrenaline spike followed by sadness or anger or bitterness... ovulation tests became a thing of anxiety, and at some point we realized that I couldn't test regularly, for my mental health. So we were only testing anything if it really, really made sense, and only with moral support). I had geared myself up mentally for a negative result, like so many before, but at the same time, this one felt so different that I was simultaneously sure that this was the one.

My husband saw the result before I did.

It wasn't pale and sneaky, like some early results, or some of the false positives I'd had over the prior year. This was bold and dark pink, just like the other stripe on the test! I barely believed it even then, and yet it was so certain.

We called our family and close friends right away. We wanted 2 things: a network of support if something went wrong, and also every minute of celebration and hope we could get.

I found, over the course of the pregnancy, that I needed others to be excited, for me, because I couldn't manage to do it myself most of the time. I was excited, on one level, and hopeful, and yet I was terrified and anxious, and a total wreck.

This was not made easier by the fact that I get very, very ill during pregnancy, with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. With Charlie, we never got it under control, and I threw up for 9 months. This time, after a mad scramble to find an OB in our new town, I got some medications started pretty early. I threw up about half a dozen times a day for the first 6 weeks, but then got the appointment with the OB and got meds started. Although we had to tweak the regimen several times, and it wasn't perfect at first, we got it figured out to the point where I think I threw up maybe 6 times the whole rest of the 9 months, which is awesome!

But I'd been so miserable the first month or so, that for the next month or so I had NO energy at all. And even after that, you add in the anxiety too, and I wasn't much help around the house at all. Later in pregnancy I also developed Gestational Diabetes. It does go away after the baby is born, but you are at higher risk of developing diabetes yourself (and much higher risk of having it again for any future pregnancies). I was lucky that I was able to manage it using diet, no meds. But it was once again another hurdle in an already stressful time.

I wish I had been able to write, during those months. If you count backward, you'll see I did post a few times early on, but nothing related to what I was going through. I didn't have the words, and now it's hard to remember well enough to really write about. But I can tell you - the fear was immense. When the baby was too little for me to feel it yet, I feared miscarriage every day, every time I went to the bathroom. When the baby was big enough for me to start feeling it, but not consistently, I worried every time it wasn't moving. I went to the OB for many extra doppler checks, for reassurance. I am very grateful for an OB that understood the stresses and the extra need for reassurance that I had. When the baby was big enough to start having patterns in its movement, I was "blessed" with a baby who didn't really have patterns! I was constantly paying attention to the baby, to the point of ignoring many, many other things in life I probably could have been more on top of.

I had therapy every week, like I had been doing since Charlie died. But because we had just moved, I had to find a new therapist. The first therapist I went to was nice, but not a good fit at all. I felt like I got nothing out of those sessions. So it took some hunting, but I found another, who I still see, and who I really like. Sessions with her helped make the anxiety reasonably manageable. Interestingly, I tried attending an online group session for women who were pregnant after a loss, and I found that my level of anxiety was actually somewhat lower than those who attended the group - I actually stopped attending because it made me worry more. The opposite effect of what I needed...

Our plans for the birth were heavily influenced by our experience with Charlie, as you might expect. Toward the end of pregnancy, I was having weekly NSTs (non-stress tests, basically just having a machine "listen" to the baby's heartbeat, your contractions, and baby's movement. How they fit together gives an idea of how everything is going). At one of the appointments when I was also seeing the OB, we talked about plans for the birth. I know loss moms approach this in a huge variety of ways. In my case, I was balancing a wish for a very natural approach with trying to minimize risks. We had pretty much decided for an induction a few days before the due date, but at the 38 week appointment, one of the NSTs showed a slightly alarming result: during one contraction, the baby's heartbeat didn't slow during the contraction (normal), it dipped after... which can mean issues with the baby getting resources from the placenta (not a good scene). Despite it being a one-off result - all other NSTs and the rest of that one were normal - she didn't want to take any risks of the baby having a problem. Especially given our loss background - the last thing she wanted was to raise our anxiety or have another tragedy. So she told us that she felt we should not even go home - we should just go straight to the hospital for an induction. Luckily, because that appointment was when we were going to do birth planning, I had my husband with me. The OB gave us some time to talk it over, and unfortunately we didn't think about stopping for lunch on the way to the hospital! I was induced that day.

I had been somewhat proactive in planning for grief triggers surrounding the birth, so I had a folder in my suitcase with a door sign and a letter to providers, to clue people in about some of the requests I would be making. For instance, we made it clear that this was our second child, and that it was ok to mention Charlie. I asked for things to be explained in great detail to me, because knowing exactly what would happen helped keep me calm.

The birth went really smoothly. They had me on monitors the whole time since the reason for induction was the possibility that the baby wasn't getting enough oxygen or could have issues (the baby did fine throughout labor). They did a very good job of being sensitive to our requests.

Toward what felt like the eternal middle of labor but turned out to be near the end, everything started going very quickly and my OB barely made it in time! They were having trouble monitoring the baby because of how low the baby had gotten, so they were a bit worried and wanted to make sure the baby had enough oxygen. This was the only truly panicky moment for me, because the way to help the baby get more oxygen is to up the mom's oxygen - and I have a long seated terror of gas-type masks from a surgery I had as a kid.

The baby came out fine, though I later learned there was a loose cord around neck and shoulder. This did not cause the blip on the test that made us go in for the induction - that remained unexplained.

It was a boy! The OB held him up in such a way there was no doubt! He was a tad slow to respond initially, so some NICU doctors that were standing by rubbed him down and got him good and mad and squalling, while also getting his birth weight (7 lbs 5.6 oz). Then I finally got to hold my little darling.

....

(Pictures are coming up soon, so this is a good place to stop if you want to avoid those)

....

I think I'll take another post to talk about the hospital stay and beyond. This already covers a lot, what with pregnancy AND birth! I may expound another time on certain aspects of how grief intersected with pregnancy or with birth, as I see how writing about it goes, and if there's interest. I'd also like to talk specifically about how to support a loss mom going through this, based on my own experiences, for those of you who would like to have some ideas of how to compassionately support your friends who have been through pregnancy loss, miscarriage or stillbirth.

Here is a picture of our Sweetpea ❤️. If only there were a little 4 year old Charlie there too...

Our little Sweetpea

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

My Family Is Perfectly Imperfect Too: A Book Review

(Topic: Book, Children's Book, siblings, talking about loss)

Book:
Perfectly Imperfect Family
By Amie Lands

Just to be frank and up-front, I got a free advance e-copy of this book in order to be able to review, but my health prevented me from reviewing the book before it was released. The advance copy was not given with any financial incentive or any particular slant I had to write about (if I had hated it or had strong criticisms, they would be in this post! I actually really liked it, though!). I haven't read any other picture books intended for children subsequent to a pregnancy or infant loss yet, though when I do, I'll review them here too, even if I don't have advance copies! I promise I will always give you my honest opinion if I'm reviewing something, and will always tell you if I get any benefits (like the free advance copy in this case).
If you click the title above, you will be taken straight to the Amazon page for it, and if you click on the author's name, you will be taken directly to the author's own page about the book.

It is a picture book, with only short amounts of text per page. I believe it is clearly comprehensible to young children. The illustrations are simple and touching. They are not overly busy with detail, but clearly show the love in the family, and include enough texture and small details to be realistic and interesting, rather than blank feeling (such as wood grain on the floors, there's a potted aloe plant that has spots, etc). The family featured is Caucasian, with a mother, father, and two living boys, both younger than the sister that is the featured topic. The main character is the oldest living boy.
The first thing I like about this book is that it is matter-of-fact. There is no beating around the bush, euphemisms for death, or overly religious metaphors that would not be clear to children.

The book doesn't specify whether the first child - a girl - died as a pregnancy loss or after birth as an infant loss, and honestly, that is great - it makes this book much more versatile. It is specified a bit more at the end of the book, but not during the story.

The book sweetly shows how the family integrates the sister into life, through pictures, memories, and rituals. Several holidays are specified with examples (Thanksgiving, Christmas), and the main character - a boy who looks to be about 6 - compares his birthday to how they celebrate his sister's birthday, with a family gathering, cake, and a ladybug release.

The ladybug release is actually the only caveat I would comment on - it is a great suggestion as an alternative to a balloon release (which is actually deadly to many animals, and many families decide that causing death in memory of a death is not fitting). However, if you choose to release butterflies, insects of any kind, or even planting flowers, please do a bit of research and make sure that what you are releasing is friendly to your environment and won't cause harm.

The book continues by addressing common thoughts that siblings might have about a sibling who died before they were born, such as what they might have been like, and concludes by reinforcing that the sister's death affected their life, but primarily through love.

The book concludes by having a section where the reader can think about how their family honors their own missing sibling, and write in their answers in parallel to examples from the book. There could have been more examples, but I think this book is aimed at a pretty young crowd - maybe as young as four? - and I think the hardback version may be a board-book format, so the small number of blanks keep it straightforward for a young crowd, and fits the physical format.

I really like how simple, direct, and loving this book is. I hope to someday own it, actually.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Pookie in Dayton and Yellow Springs

(Topic: Travel with Pookie)

Hi Friends!

Last fall, when hubby was doing a lot of interviews and I went along, Pookie and I got to spend a day exploring the Dayton area, and ended up exploring Yellow Springs. You get to enjoy pictures of Pookie playing at a local park we found!

Pookie being my copilot

At the park! Pookie is in his comfy tiger suit which is good for travel and playing!

Playing on the climbing ropes!

He found a bas relief squirrel!

Climbing bear!

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Father's Day Is Hard For Us

(Topic: Grief, dealing with grief, triggers, pictures, loss, stillbirth, pregnancy and infant loss)

Hi Friends,

Charlie was born on Father's Day.

This weekend is so, so hard for us, every year.

It's odd, how my mind works. It doesn't know what date Thursday was that year, or Friday, or Saturday - I only remember the date of Sunday because it was his birthday. But I remember what happened by the day of the week.

That makes Father's Day weekend hard, harder than his birthday date, actually. Because I remember (can't help remembering, which is akin to a PTSD type reaction) based on the time of day and day of the week.

This year, I'm distracting myself to get through it. We're still honoring Charlie with a birthday party, but overall, I'm focusing on other things (and you know, I have plenty of logistical stuff to focus on...).

But I'm triggered by so many things. Even last week, basically anytime in June, I'm much more sensitive. The year Charlie was buried, there were little blue dragonflies in the cemetery constantly. Last weekend I saw teal ones with black wings. Nothing alike, except the vibrancy of the color, and that they were dragonflies. But I cried. I'm on edge constantly, never knowing what thing might remind me.

This weekend is the worst, though.

Thursday was the night Charlie was still fine. The baby was still moving on Thursday, I'm fairly sure. We played a boardgame that night, and I felt him wiggling and shifting. I'd been having braxton hicks all week, so I knew baby was getting ready.

He must have turned to get into position that night, and turned the wrong way and gotten tighter tangled.

Friday something was off. He was sideways for a bit, and I wasn't believed about that, except by my hubby. Baby had been so consistently head down, so I couldn't possibly be right, right?

Saturday was the horrible day. The silent ultrasound. The hospital. All the medical side of it.

Sunday he was born, Sunday we held him.



It's so hard, being thrust into those memories by anything and everything. By noting the day of the week, noting the time of day, just being - just knowing, at this time, this happened.

I don't want to viscerally remember. I want the bad memories to be more distant.



I love Charlie so much. And there was such mixed emotion on his birthday. Seeing his little nose, laughing at his giant hands and feet, after I'd given my best friend such a hard time about her baby's big feet. So many things I remember and never want to forget, but there are so many things I wish I at least had more distance from. So much emotional pain, wracking sorrow.

So, this weekend is hard. This year, I'm leaning toward distractions, and have asked friends to help me find funny or silly or interesting videos to watch (but avoiding trigger issues), so I can laugh, and focus on something besides the deep ache inside me.


This is my baby. I love him, and I miss him so much.

Our family, complete.

My favorite picture from that day. Daddy, holding Charlie.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Thoughts about Easter

(Topics: Grief and Anxiety, mental health, Easter/Religion, cemeteries)

Hi Friends,

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie.

I have been feeling really, really sad and overwhelmed lately. Sometimes, when I'm feeling heavy, it's very hard for me to figure out why - and knowing why makes it easier for me to either live with the feelings, or to find something to do to help.

I felt like I've been having a harder time than usual staying steady when life threw me curve balls (as life always does, on smaller and larger scales). When my hubby also commented on that, I decided to call my therapist to see if I could get in for an extra session.

(Side note: there is NO SHAME in asking for extra help! I know it's hard. It's hard to know when to ask, and it's hard to ask. It can be hard to admit that you aren't able to do it all yourself. I encourage you to set up support systems so it's easier to ask for help. For instance, I have friends who I trust, who know my whole story and things I struggle with. I can easily vent to them, because I don't have to explain anything. But I also don't want to burden them - so I also have a therapist. Therapists are AMAZING, guys. If you try a therapist, and you don't feel comfortable, it's ok to go to a new one. FIND THE RIGHT FIT FOR YOU 💗💓. Once you find someone you like, the point is that they are trained to help and trained to listen - but they are OUTSIDE the situation. They won't get hurt feelings, and they won't get mad. They JUST HELP. And it's AMAZING 💕💓.)

I got an extra session to get help, because even things that seemed like they should be little were feeling big. My therapist is my outside perspective, and helps me find my rational brain but also helps me acknowledge my emotions.

In this session, she helped me identify stressors that were overwhelming me, or stressing me out, or triggering my grief - even when sometimes it was super subconscious.

I actually prepare a little for my sessions by taking notes on rough days, of what bothers me or big things that happen. This helps guide what we talk about and helps me feel like we use the time a little more effectively (this is not everyone's style - you do you!).

Above the line, notes to tell the therapist.
Below, notes written afterward, with some of what we talked about.

After we went through my list, I asked - WHY?? Why is everything so hard right now?? And she literally sat there and counted things off on her fingers, guys. Counted things back off to me, that I had told her about, but also helped me identify a few more things that had been in the background, that I had not yet seen clearly enough to name.

One was that, the last time we moved, it was not only right after Charlie died, it was literally because Charlie died. We had planned to wait to move until he was 3-6 months old before we moved. Instead, we were in our new place about a month after. So since we're moving sometime this summer, that might be a reason that packing and planning is so hard for me to work on.

One of the other things she pointed out is that Easter is - like Christmas - about a mother, but this time about the son dying. And coming back again...
Mary is a complicated figure for me. Really complicated.

So after we'd identified what some of the triggers were (there were about a half a dozen others, too....), we talked about how to find some relief. Some comfort, and a way through, through the sad and the pain, because the stress isn't as heavy when the sad isn't weighing me down.

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie.

The main solution she suggested was to let myself feel. To spend some time with Charlie, if I could, but to remember and feel and cry and just be, with my pain and sorrow, and weep if I need to.

The universe (God?) listened to my need. I had been worried that I couldn't find time, since it's a decent distance to Charlie's grave; and to sit and feel, I couldn't be rushed. But one of my scheduled items got cancelled, and suddenly I had a whole day ahead of me, to go to my little boy.

I spread out my blanket, and opened the umbrella to keep the sun off (and in case it rained), and I sat down with Charlie, and lay with him, and talked to him.

I told him how much I missed him and how much I wanted to hold him... and I wept.

Tears do cease, at some point. The pain behind my sternum, the pressure in my throat does ease, as though the tears wash out a tightness and release something.

I weeded his garden, and touched some of the decorations and memorials we have for him there.

And I lay with my chest over where he is buried. The closest I can come to holding him.

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie.

It means so much to me, to have a place to care for, that is just his, and his alone.

I have a complicated relationship with Mary, Jesus' mom. Her baby was born alive, which hurts at Christmas. She gets to see him grow up. But she suffers through his death. I imagine that she hurts inside, behind her sternum, so tight it hurts to breathe. I imagine she weeps so deeply she convulses in Joseph's arms. I imagine she knows this pain. But. He lives again. My Charlie doesn't yet.

Jesus died right before a Jewish holiday. That meant that his body had to be dealt with before the sun went down that Friday, and couldn't really be tended to properly until the Sabbath and the Passover was over. Joseph of Arimathea was the guy who put the body in the tomb in the right cloths. He made sure the basics were taken care of, that were important.

But women went to care for his body, to lay him to rest and to say their last goodbyes. Those are the women I watch, in this story. They prepare the ointments to rub on the body, to do the rites of burial and death from their culture, to make things right, as much as you can when someone dies. They go back after their holiday, to finish things.

We know who those women were, because they were the eyewitnesses that Jesus was gone (alive, risen, back).

I care who they were, because they were the grave tenders. The ones who would have placed the headstone and served the funeral lunch and planted flowers with his mom, if it were now.

The book of Matthew says it was Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. The book of Mark says it was women including Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome (so that was a pretty large group). The book of Luke says it was the women who had followed Jesus from Galilee, and also lists them as Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women. In the book of John it's only Mary Magdalene.

No matter who it was, they cared. They took the time to go, and planned to care intimately for his body, hands on. I wish so hard I'd been able to do more of the funeral care myself, for Charlie. This isn't something our culture is used to, anymore. And I did not know to ask for it, and I don't know if I would have wanted it at the time -- in hindsight, though, I miss caring for my little boy, giving him the final kiss in his coffin.

I saw a picture, last month. It was a mama and a papa, tucking their baby into his coffin, into his "forever crib". Seeing that, suddenly my heart longed for having done that for Charlie.
To care for a body, to minister to their last cares on earth, is an act of pure love. Of closure. Of peace within sorrow.

As I lay with Charlie, my breast filling the hollow in the earth beneath which he rests, I felt complete and yet bereft. Filling the hole in my heart, the gaping hole in my life with the closest thing I could.

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie. 

While I was there, I read a book to Charlie. We read to Pookie regularly, and it's a thing we can hold onto - one of the things we'd looked forward to, so much. So many other things were taken away, but that we can still do.

I also read a graphic memoir, called Rosalie Lightning, written by a father whose daughter died of SIDS. His experiences - his raw emotion - reading that while visiting Charlie -
He talked of how a loss parent's attention can be grabbed by other children of the right age, how we can stare, stare at what could have been.

Today is the day before Easter. The in-between. The waiting - for us, who know how the story ends. For those back then, the second day since. Counting life based on the life-changing moment. For me, two days ago was 2 years and 10 months. Since.

Charlie is nearly three. How do you plan a birthday party for the 3rd year since a death?

I'm always aware of how old he is/would be/would have been.

Today is the day before Easter as I write this, Saturday. Some churches hold a vigil, traditionally held from before midnight until after midnight, to celebrate the moment of Easter at the turning point of the night.

We went to an evening vigil service. When the priest was preaching about the Easter life, the Christian life, is to focus on LIFE not death - all I could think was, how intrusive is death. How hard, not to think of loss, even with the promise of life.

Right then, two 3-year-olds started to get restless and play.

My Charlie.

I should have been dealing with a restless Charlie.

Every day, I spend the day with Charlie.

No matter what, he's on my mind. This is a holiday (holy day) about life, promise of life, promise of future life, power over death.

My son is dead.

My religion gives promise, hope.

But everyday, my son is not in my arms.

My son is on my mind. My son is in my heart. Everyday, he is with me. I'm the one staring at your son, thinking of what my son might have said, might have done, and hurting.

I'm the one rocking a teddy bear, because my baby is dead.

I understand the hope with my head, but not yet with my heart. I have to take any tiny bit that my heart can understand.

To the lady who passed the peace to my bear, please know that in my heart, you passed the peace to my son. Thank you. I may cry, but my heart is lighter.

💛

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Advent

(Topic: Grief during the holiday season)

Hi Friends,

This last Sunday was the first day of Advent. In my tradition, both in my family growing up and in my church theologically, Advent is the season of preparation for Christmas. Christmas doesn't start until December 25th, at which point the Twelve Days of Christmas start (remember the song?), and culminate in Epiphany, which is when the Wise Men arrive.

Advent has many aspects and many meanings, and I'm not a theologian, so I'm not going to go into most of them here. I'll mention the parts that are relevant to my experiences in this time of year, particularly with how it is affecting me since Charlie died.

One of the frequent themes of Advent is hope. I think it's multi-pronged, since part of it is the very physical hope and anticipation of a baby's arrival, and the other aspect is that since this is not the first retelling of the story, we all know who the baby is and what he grows up to do - so it's the anticipation and hope of the ultimate Christian redemption through Christ. For me, the first one is harder to bear, as you might imagine.

Currently, being around pregnant women is extremely hard to bear. For one, I was once there, and then I didn't get the baby at the end. For another, we'd like to have more children, but right now that's not happening. It hurts to see them, and my heart reacts with jealousy and pain. While Pregnant Mary is not always a strong theme in every church's Advent or in every service, it is a theme that is omnipresent simply based on what Christmas is as a holiday.

The Advent during which I was pregnant - 2015 - was magnificent. I noticed things about the story I'd never seen before, and identified with Mary in ways I never had.

The following Advent was hell.

Every word, every nuance, seemed to say that I should be holding a baby, that I should understand that anticipation and joy that would come on the eve of the 24th. I was miserable and hated it. This isn't to say I was a scrooge. I still found things to enjoy. We found ways to incorporate Charlie's memory in our holiday. And Pookie arrived, fluffy as he has never been since. But overall, I was deep in grief, and the theme of the holiday was the hardest possible theme there could have been.

Our brand new bear, with Charlie, and an ornament Charlie's great-aunt needlepointed for him. It touched us in so many ways that she remembered our baby at Christmas.

At this moment I'm not sure when I first started looking at pictures of Mary. I'm not of the Catholic denomination, so she's not a focal point for the worship in the church I grew up in or the one I currently attend. But representations of Mary in art interest me, showing parenting in an interesting light both religiously and in the era of the artist.
I'm pretty sure that during that first Advent without Charlie, I took great interest in looking at pictures of Mary pregnant. Right now I wouldn't be able to stand the sight of them. Our sensitivities can change, as loss parents, as to what hurts the most or reminds us the most of our child or that he is not where he should be in our lives.

The second Advent, 2017, I don't remember much distinctly, except that it was hard, and that I think we missed several church services due to work schedules and such. I remember being very ok with this. I generally like being part of the Advent cycle, if for no other reason than to distance myself from the commercialism and silliness that crop up the instant we put down the carving knife on Thanksgiving day. But when it does nothing but make you sad, it becomes hard to rationalize going.

I think that year is when I started collecting pictures of Mary breastfeeding (there are a lot, and stunningly beautiful, from throughout the ages). I would still have been breastfeeding, had Charlie lived. Maybe I was missing that. I wish I had written more about how I felt, but I can't remember a lot.

This year, I have not figured out the best way to approach things. I cried through the whole service on Sunday. The mere idea of Advent had me a soggy mess by the end of the first hymn. There was nothing specific in the content of the readings or the sermon or even the hymns. But the fact remains present to me, that this holiday is based on anticipating the healthy arrival of a baby, and that my story does not parallel.
The young children in my church are involved in setting things up for the later nativity scene, and paraded in sweetly together. That hurt my heart too - since I can't help thinking that I should have been shepherding a chaotic 2-year old through that process. Instead, I held Pookie and wept into his head. Too much, this holiday shows me the empty outline of my son, where he should be standing, should be singing, should be eating, should be making a mess, should be, should be...

I don't know what I will think next year. Or the year after. I can hope that the outline of Charlie will hurt less to see, and that someday I can be happy for Mary, even if I'm not happy with Mary. But right now I'm sad, and I miss my Charlie.

Please remember all the little ones missing from their family's lives this holiday season. Remember them, and I can't speak for everyone, but for us, it means a lot if you include Charlie in a gift or a card, or just mention his name. I've heard many people feel the same way. We fear that they will be forgotten, since they are invisible.

Thank you, and be gentle to all who might be in sorrow this season.


Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

What can I say? Ideas on how to talk to and help a grieving friend

(topic: loss, grief, communication, helping)

Introduction

This is a post in my series of posts honoring Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. My goal is for these posts to be shareable - if you are a loss parent, I hope you find this post helpful to share with your friends to help them understand you, what you are going through, and how to help.

Please note that usually my Wednesday posts are loss related, and my Saturday posts are hobby-themed. Due to extenuating circumstances, I missed Wednesday this week, and this post (a day late), which would normally be a hobby post, is making up for Wednesday. Thanks for your patience with this little hiccup in routine!

Why Are We Talking About This?

There are several reasons why pregnancy and infant loss is incredibly important to bring into the open - such as helping the medical world realize that this needs to be studied and the rate of loss needs to be reduced - but why is it important to discuss how to talk about it?

Well, in my experience, our culture doesn't talk about death much, and when we do it's either joking or morbid, or it gets really, really awkward. And when talking about grief, we are smack-dab in that third category. It's tough to talk about, which unfortunately means that our culture teaches us to respond with platitudes and sayings, none of which are really very helpful to the person grieving - and some of which are actually quite hurtful.

There are many articles out there on the hurtful things people say, and sometimes why they are so painful. In the past, I have discussed some of them myself (What Do I Say? from May 2017), while trying to address some helpful things to say instead. Today I'd like to focus on some helpful ways to approach talking to a loss mom or dad, and some other ways to help a grieving family.

What Can I Say?

First off, be sincere and think before you speak, no matter what. Usually, when someone is hurtful, it's usually because a) they are just trying to leave the conversation, b) they are saying a phrase or saying without thinking about the deeper meaning, or c) are comparing to something, like something they've been through, rather than just listening.

What exactly you say is really up to you and depends on your relationship to the person you are talking to. Generally though, being open to the grieving person's experience is extremely helpful. While you might see what they are going through physically, you have no way to know what's in their head and how they are perceiving it. Be patient and open, and willing to listen and try to understand. If they tell you that they don't want to talk about a particular aspect, or do want you to do something, like talk about their baby by name (rather than as a miscarriage, stillbirth, fetus, or even "the baby"), please respect their wishes and either don't or do talk about that when in a conversation with them.

What if you are just meeting someone new? Really listen to how they are approaching topics - any topics! And listen to see what they are comfortable sharing. Don't push for information, but rather let the conversation take a natural tack. If they bring up their loss, and it makes you uncomfortable, here are some helpful phrases you can riff on:
- "I can't imagine what you are going through"
- "I'm so sorry to hear that"
- "What's his/her name?" (very few people ask, and I wish more did)
- "I'm here for you"
- "Would you like to tell me about him/her?"

Some things to avoid are religious platitudes, anything that is an "at least" type statement, or any comparing of grief situations. Also, if you decide to ask questions, please be thoughtful and careful about not only how but also what you're asking! I don't care how nicely you ask, whether or not my uterus is healthy enough for more kids is between me, my husband, and my doctor (for instance).

I could list many things that are unhelpful, but really the key thing is to truly listen and pay attention, and think before you speak, because the most helpful things people have said just indicated they were happy to listen (and not pry) and the least helpful things were people saying religious or trite platitudes that felt diminishing or demeaning, or questions that were truly invasive.

Is There Anything I Can DO??

Yes! There's plenty you can do. The better you know the person, the more you can do. Some things to think about:

• Tomorrow, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, and at 7pm (through 8pm) people are lighting candles in memory, each in their own time zone. This means there's a constant wave of light flowing around the world, time zone by time zone, in memory of all the little ones not in the arms of their parents. Light a candle! If you know a family well, sending them a picture of your candle, letting them know you were thinking of their baby, is a very sweet thing to do.
• Let them know you're thinking of them. Whatever means you usually use is great (text, call, email, social media, card, skywriting 😊), or a handwritten card/note is always nice.
• Use their baby's name, especially if they do. Many families (me included) really like to know that you haven't forgotten the baby.
• If they have pictures of the baby, and it seems appropriate, ask to see them! Not everyone is comfortable sharing, and not everyone has pictures, but many who do would love to share. Think about it: most parents show pictures of their kids all the time. Well, I want to, too - but I only have about 50 and that number is never going to change, so I don't have new cute ones to share. But I'd love to show you Charlie again and again, any time you ask!
• If their grief is fresh, ask if they need help with concrete things around the house. The more specific you can be, the better. "Can I come vacuum for you?" is more helpful than "Do you need anything?" because especially early in grief, making decisions, and seeing what you need help with, is very hard. If they seem hesitant because they think it's a burden on you, then you can insist. If they are saying no for other reasons, though, please respect their boundaries.
• If the grief is fresh, bringing meals can also be helpful. Make sure you're aware of allergies. Foods that can be frozen are also helpful, in case they got too many in a week (also because early on some people's appetites are low).
• If their grief is slightly older, beyond the first month or two, reach out again! This is the time when I felt like the initial wave of help was done, but I wasn't fully functional yet, and my fears of Charlie being forgotten were really high.
• If you are close with the person, make note of dates that they might find meaningful, and remember them with a card or text or something. The birthday of the baby is especially poignant for most loss parents. Some other dates that might have meaning: Date they found no heartbeat, date of conception or date they found out they were expecting, Mother's Day and Father's Day, date of the funeral, October 15th (remembrance day), date of a particular memory (I have one in February because that was the first time Charlie kicked back when hubby put his hand on my tummy!).
• Support an organization that helps! You can use smile.amazon.com to donate as you shop, or you can donate directly to an organization. Ask your loss friend - they'll often have one or two they've really connected with. There are plenty out there. Some take photos of the baby right after birth, some make weighted bears, some do research to prevent further pregnancy and infant loss, some provide pro-bono counseling... there are many options!
• Support an organization in memory of the baby, and let your loss friend know. For instance, we had a friend who bought us a tree, through an organization that re-forests after forest fires, and the tree is in memory of Charlie. Or if the loss friend has a symbol for their baby (many do, often an animal that represents the baby, sometimes connected to a story about the baby), you can donate to a cause they support that ties to that symbol.

I know that's a lot to think about, but there are so many ways to support your friends it's hard to stop telling you! I'll leave it at that right now, but if you have questions or other ideas, feel free to share in the comments - I'd love to hear your ideas! The key point is that you respect the loss mom or dad and how they grieve, no matter what.

💟

In love,

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

(Topic: loss, grief, awareness)

What is this Awareness Month?

This month is a special one in the USA, but I don't know if other countries officially observe it. Back in 1988, President Reagan specified October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month (Full text of the official declaration at this link).

The idea is to help people who have not gone through a loss to know that it still happens. If people know it's a problem, this helps in 2 ways: 1) they might feel less betrayed if it happens to them, and less like a single aberrant case, which is a lonely stance, and 2) researchers will be more likely to pick up the topic to potentially develop both ways to support people going through it and ways to prevent it in the first place. As he said in his declaration: "It also enables us to consider how, as individuals and communities, we can meet the needs of bereaved parents and family members and work to prevent causes of these problems."

You may notice elements of the awareness "campaign" if you see things like a half-pink, half-blue awareness ribbon; you may see posts about people's babies who died or some friends may go very quiet on social media for the month. Some newspapers or television stations may even do features about some of the support or research organizations created to help parents going through this type of tragedy.

Awareness ribbon with cockade, that I made for our door (a tiger is the symbol we use for our son Charlie). We have had one on each door to the house since we moved in.

What will this blog do?

I will be posting a lot about loss this month, but will have posts about topics that will be helpful, I hope, to share with non-loss friends to help them understand.

Post topics will include:

• What is helpful to say or do for a friend who lost a baby?

• How common is Pregnancy Loss and Infant Loss?

• Words associated with Pregnancy and Infant Loss

 Please feel free to comment below or on Facebook or Instagram @being_charlies_mama with any other things you think it would be helpful for me to write about.

Why is this month special to this blogger (Sarah) personally?

My son Charlie was born (stillborn) in 2016, and since then, October has been a month were we make time to visit Charlie at the cemetery (we go other times too, of course!) and where we make sure to talk to others about him. There are also memorial ceremonies and walks that we take part in, and it really helps us feel that our otherwise invisible son is acknowledged and remembered. October was also the month we found out that I was pregnant, back in 2015, which adds an extra layer for us. You can read more of our story by choosing the "Who is Charlie" link at the top of this page, or clicking here.

Related Dates

October 15th is Remembrance Day, specifically, so many ceremonies and remembrance walks are scheduled on or right around this date. There is also a "wave of light" - lighting a candle at 7pm, that many people around the world take part in. By lighting a candle in memory of a baby, or multiple babies, from 7-8 pm in your own timezone, there will be a continuous light going around the world as people in each zone light their candles.

Wave of Light 2017 at our house. I lit a candle for every loss family (and each baby thereof) that I knew personally. Too, too many. Love to every single one. The white/orange/black candle with a tiger ribbon is for our son Charlie.

What can I, the reader, do?

• Share this post! Talk about the issue, post about the issue, or share links about the issue. The more people know about this, the more likely it becomes that the people who can do something about it will hear. Also, the more people know about it, the more supported loss-parents will be. Please feel free to post links to this post or any other post on this blog. If posting on Facebook, link the @beingcharliesmama account or me personally, Sarah Warner. Direct link to this post is https://clothespress.blogspot.com/2018/10/pregnancy-and-infant-loss-awareness.html

• Light a candle from 7-8pm on October 15th. It can be in memory of one specific baby, multiple babies, or if you don't know anyone, light one in honor of all the babies who died too soon. If you are in a dorm and can't have candles, you can use a nightlight or battery candle, or light one at a local church or chapel or house of worship if that's available to you. It isn't the candles per se :) it's the love and thoughts and memories!

• If you know someone who lost a baby, whether during pregnancy at any point or after birth, let them know you're thinking of them. Just sending a quick text or PM, or a card in the mail - whatever your normal way of chatting with that mom or dad might be. Don't forget the dads! They miss their children too.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Post-MWAH Wrap-Up

(Topic: grief, habits, art, religion/spirituality)

 Dear Friends,

If I can say one thing, it is that adding a daily discipline - other than the habits I'm used to - is hard! No surprise, there, but that's the short explanation of why I didn't do MWAH every day this month. Additionally, it's extra hard if it has you thinking about and confronting complicated and uncomfortable emotions... Motivation has been something I've struggled with, anyway. However, I'm glad I did even just the ones I did, since for me this is not just about my own healing and mental health, but is also a way that I can parent Charlie, too.

To wrap up the month, I'll recap the ones I did (essentially the first 7, give or take), with some notes about the inspirations and influences that inspired them. None of these are meant to represent finished pieces of art: they are, instead, pieces of thought, pieces of emotions, being processed visually and tactilely.

Prompt: Sunrise. This is probably one of the more obvious inspirations. You may notice that the question in the middle has been changed, slightly, to reflect my experience.

Prompt: Beginnings. My inspiration here is biblical. "in the beginning God created..." "without form and void" "in the beginning was the Word" (this is primarily from Genesis and from the Gospel of John). Charlie's grave is on here, which is PART of God's creation, Charlie and Charlie's grave.

Prompt: Anxiety. To me, this can be what anxiety feels like. I was going to add more lightning, in reds and oranges, from the sides, with more questions and critiques, but ran short of time and energy that evening.

Prompt: Grace. I was stumped on this one for a long time, because I find it hard to find positive things about Charlie's death, except for Charlie himself, and while granting myself grace/forgiveness is something I work on, it is harder to put into a visual form... But I do find that a piece of God's Grace came down when Charlie was baptized into the family of God, and I felt connection with the many other baptisms I have participated in or witnessed.

Prompt: Mother. This prompt came up, apropos, on Mother's Day. I got frustrated at how much marketing is done at the "traditional" "normal" mother - one in a 2 parent household, with 2.5 children, all biological, conceived and born with no issues at all, of course.

Prompt: Name. Probably obvious, this is my son's name! The tiger stripes are because he kicked a lot and we nicknamed him "our little Tigger", which stuck, and now tigers and tiger cubs, in general, represent him for us. Peacock is a family name.

This is not from a prompt, but from a small Facebook support group I'm in. I offered to include names of the babies in the group in a drawing. Charlie is on here too, upper right.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Birthday Ideas for Charlie

(topic: remembering a child on their birthday, infant loss, memorial ideas)

 Dear friends,

This year, in June, Charlie will be turning 2. If you would like to help us remember him in a more tangible way, here are a few things you can do:

Ways to remember Charlie on his 2nd Birthday (June 19th)

1. Support the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photography association by pledging to our team (Team Tiger pledge page). We are participating in a fundraising walk the Saturday after his birthday, and the funds donated help support the organization so they can send pro-bono professional photographers to take pictures, for families experiencing infant loss 
2. Help Charlie's light shine! Some churches and religious organizations have permanently lit candles or lamps in their worship space. They often have sponsors, in memory of someone. I have reserved and sponsored the light at our current church and at the church I grew up in, for the week of June 17th. If you would like to sponsor one at your own place of worship, or just light a candle in Charlie's honor, that would be lovely.
3. Borrowing an idea from another loss-mama's blog (Still Playing School), what about making Charlie's name in some way, and taking a picture? I'd love to see the results.
4. And if none of these fit how you want to remember him, please understand that we don't want to force you to do anything! We just would love for our friends to happily remember Charlie with us. That's all it is. And if you decide to do so more tangibly, the above list items are just suggestions.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Pookie Visits Santa

(Topic: What I would be doing with Charlie)

Dear Friends,

This post is a bit late! Oops! I thought I'd posted this picture, but realized that I hadn't, and thus, hadn't shared the story.

This last Christmas I did something I don't ever remember doing before. I went to a mall Santa.

I've never ever really been comfortable around people who are dressed up. Wait! Before you start calling me a hypocrite since I reenact and hang around "dressed up" people all the time, let me explain. Santa and many other characters end up disguised rather than just costumed. For instance, I don't get nervous around actors wearing clothes specifically for a role. But as soon as the person inside is hard to distinguish, such as with false hair (like beards), strong make up (like mimes or clowns), or masks or mascot heads, then I have a tendency to run the other way and not look back. This is a long-standing fear of mine. Usually I'm pretty good at being aware of mascots and such, and just avoiding them, but on occasion I have still ended up having a panic attack.

This year, though, a friend (a fellow loss-mama) suggested that another friend and I accompany her to a mall Santa, for our bears to have a Santa visit. Surely, she thought, the Santa could hold all three bears in one sitting, which would allow us to split the fee three ways, and each have a lovely memento.

A huge reason to do this, was because this kind of experience is what other mommys get to have with their children. We, as loss-mamas, miss out on a lot of experiences that we would have had with our children, and our grief is not just missing the child we knew, but also mourning the loss of their future, and our future with them. So doing things in their memory, that we might have done with them, becomes meaningful and in someways cathartic. To be fair, this is my own experience, and others may perceive it differently...

So despite what I told you about my own fear of "dressed-up" people, I was willing to give this a shot. For Pookie. For Charlie.

When we all gathered at the mall, and then approached the Santa together, I let the other two mamas lead. However, my biggest fear was allayed when we approached the Santa area and I saw that our Santa was equipped most mercifully with his own beard, and thus, his full face was visible! I was immediately put at ease. He also seamed pretty calm and kind to some of the kids ahead of us, which was reassuring too.

In fact, he was amused by the three Molly Bears we placed on his lap, not realizing at first what they were. He looked wonderfully jolly, don't you think?

After the picture was taken, we explained to the photography and kid-wrangling crew, as well as the Santa, and all expressed their condolences. That was nice of them, but for me, the nicest part was seeing Pookie, tucked into Santa's lap next to Viviana Bear and peeking around Paul Bear to see the camera. It's delightfully candid, as I'm sure any picture of Viviana, Paul, and Charlie would have been.



Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Triggersville

(Posted next morning, due to upload issues. I will add the pictures this morning)(Edited on 2/23 evening to add photos.)

Dear friends,

Right now my eyes are burning because I've been crying, and it wouldn't take much to get me going again. Today has actually been a pretty good day, but right at the end there have been several Triggers (things that make me think of Charlie and make me emotional).

The first was seeing a picture of these rosette mourning cockades a dear friend made for us, to wear while reenacting, in remembrance of our little one. I'm so glad she was willing to make them, and wearing them felt so right. Today she put a picture of them in her "I made this" album on Facebook. This is totally fine! It just brings thoughts of Charles more to the surface.

When the mail came, we got a personalized thing we'd ordered for Charlie for his birthday in June. It came out beautifully, and I can't wait to show you!

🐅

This evening I watched a video called "A Sloth Named Velcro", which was basically a nature documentary, but included several cute baby sloths, too.

I also reposted something on Facebook, which spurred a conversation about how I'm a mama despite my child never having lived beyond pregnancy. It was a good conversation, but touching, and it then brought up memories of the Mother's Day just before Charlie was born. I hadn't thought of myself as a true mother yet - maybe half, but not wholly - and I really wish I had.

And at this point I wept.

The images in my mind were the movements of the baby sloths, and the regret of not taking a Mother's Day carnation 2 years ago, and the loss and love for Charlie... It was overwhelming.

I'm hugging my Pookie as I write this. He's a very good bear, a very nice one to have around.

I'm dedicating this post to all the mamas who feel like they aren't mamas. You are.

And to all the loss mamas who have lots of smooth days and then get surprised by a row of triggers. It happens... It's ok. I'm finding something that helps me remember Charlie but feel less sad (Pookie), and each minute comes a little easier. And I'll be back on my feet in a bit, and brush my teeth and settle in for the night, and I'll be ok. Crying helps... It's a sign I love and miss my boy, and reminds me that I love and miss him even when I'm not crying, and that's ok too.

💕

Being a Loss-Mama has a lot going on. Who knew that learning about 6 species of nearly cold-blooded upside-down mammal would be what got me today?

Love
Sarah

Today I'm Sad

Dear Friends,

Today I was lucky that hubby was off work, so after we ran some errands, we made time to go visit our little boy! I don't think either of us has made it to the cemetery since before Christmas. It certainly feels like ages and ages. I was so excited to go! We took his Christmas present (an ornament, which we did last year too and plan to do every year), and opened it there for him to "show" him. To us, this is an important way of including him as our child in our holiday traditions.

We both stood there in the snow, trying to make it quick so we didn't freeze, but we also tried not to feel rushed. We talked like you do to a toddler, simply, and as though he were standing before us. He is always with us in our hearts, and we personally also believe in Heaven (without spending time here on theological details), and we have pictures and other things around the house that remind us of him (including Pookie...), but Charlie is physically buried in that cemetery. In some way, I feel close to him there in a way I do not in other places.

After saying goodbye, usually several times, which for me includes touching his grave marker, we head to the car and point our selves toward home.

This is the hardest part.

Every time I leave the cemetery, I have to leave my son behind again. It is not as hard as the day I had to hand over his body to a nurse. It is not as hard as saying goodbye to HIM and to his future and all our hopes and dreams for him. But leaving the cemetery is still leaving him behind, while I go to the life I have at home, where he isn't.

I often cry in the car, though less hard and less often than I used to. Not that I miss him less, just that I miss him differently, and am in a different place in my soul. Today it meant that while I drove home, I talked to hubby about how much I missed Charlie, and I had tears in my eyes, and a lump in my throat, and I felt a hard place of tears sitting in my chest.

By the time I got home, he was still on my mind, but my heart had calmed down. I miss my little boy so much. Being sad is like a wave, or a sea, going up or down, or like something that you are carrying that is heavy, but sometimes you are fresh and it's not a burden, and sometimes you are tired, and it is hard to carry. But everything in that package is too special to leave behind.

Thank you for being with me today while I remember my beautiful little boy.

Yours, Sarah


To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: www.tinyurl.com/infantloss