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

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

How I'll Think About Christmas This Year

(Topic: Grief, Religion, Christmas, Pregnancy)

Hi Friends,

Christmas, and particularly the figure of Mary, can be a bit complicated to come to terms with after experiencing infant loss. I've written about this before, exploring how the themes of pregnancy and happy arrival can be very difficult for a loss parent. I've felt sad, during the Christmas season, and I've felt bitter, and I've felt jealous. I struggle with this, since the overwhelming cultural push is to be Merry TM. So it's difficult when you don't fit that mold, and feel doubly bad - first, just the feelings you're feeling, and second, guilt that you aren't happy like you "should be".

This year, though, while talking to a pastor yet again to see if I could figure out a way through the season with less emphasis on jealousy and bitterness, I had an idea, a thought, about Mary and her relationship to Jesus, that just might help.

You see, although Judaism as a religion does not seem to really mark birthdays, and ancient Judaism probably not either, it occurred to me that, as a Christian, we are marking  Jesus' birthday in the holiday of Christmas. And it occurred to me that Jesus is not actually born every year - we are remembering the birthday of one who, long ago, lived then died (then lived again, then went away to heaven). He is gone from Mary's presence and ultimately ours, and we hope, someday, after death to be reunited.
How is that different from me marking Charlie's birthday every year??
It occurred to me that in some ways, it's not. Obviously, Jesus is more widely admired and remembered than Charlie, but when it comes to the feelings I go through, it's viscerally the same: We miss them, we remember them, and we hope (in Christian Hope) to be reunited someday, after our earthly days, at the heavenly river.

I don't actually know if this mindset will help me not feel jealous and bitter this year, but it felt like such a lightning bolt of inspiration and hope, and felt so right, that I have the feeling it might be just the perspective shift I needed.

May this holiday season fall peacefully upon you, regardless of which religion you follow and which traditions feel heavy. May peace rest in your soul.

With love,

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

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

Am I Strong?

(Topic: grief, strength, definitions)

Hi Friends,

Several times recently, I have been told I am strong. Over the last few years, it's happened a few times more. Most frequently I have been told this by strangers, who don't know anything about me, and who have just heard about Charlie - and if I'm not crying, then I'm "strong" and they don't think they could have done it.

Here's the thing: They could have done it.

I had two choices: live with it somehow, or don't live.

People don't seem to realize that what they're proposing as an alternate option is suicide, and get really uncomfortable if I point that out. Suicide was never an option for me, but I know people who have been suicidal or who at least wish they were dead - so they could be with their child. I get it. That's just not how I think of it (for me, personally). I don't wish I were dead, I wish Charlie were alive.

So, since suicide wasn't an option for me, I lived with it. With my new, terrible, sucky reality. Living with it does not make me strong. I see myself as weaker than before, actually. But let's take a sec to define what strong means, because that's actually the crux of this matter. What do people mean when they say "you're so strong"?

a) that I can deadlift 150 lbs?
b) that I don't show emotion in public?
c) that I DO choose to talk about hard topics in public?
hint: it's not a.

B and C are usually not used by the same person, because they have contradictory meanings. And that's where I run into issues. When strangers use the word "strong" on me, I have no idea what meaning they are using it as, and since our culture usually goes with B, it's pretty certain that's what the stranger means. But is that really strength?

One loss mom talks about strength here, and she seems to view "strength" as a mask you put on - so more like B. In fact, that definition seems to be pretty culturally prevalent, actually.

But admitting that something is hard - and being open about it - and being emotional and vulnerable in public - is actually more work, and so some people choose to understand "strong" to mean option C.

Unfortunately, option B and option C are completely diametrically opposed, and having ONE word mean TWO OPPOSITE THINGS is really, really problematic. So if someone says I'm being strong, I have no idea if they mean I'm repressing my emotion to appear unmoved in public, or if they mean I'm being "bravely open about it". As you might guess, I really don't find the first option to be a great or healthy idea. (I am not talking about whether or not you choose to share about your loss. That's a different topic entirely. I'm talking about how people respond once you do decide to share.)

A few paragraphs ago I mentioned that I feel like I'm weaker than before. Here's why I say this: In a world where I had one choice (in my mind), which was to live with what had happened - somehow - because the alternate was to devastate my husband further (and because I want to be with him, and wish Charlie were here, not that I were dead with Charlie...), in this world where I had one choice, I chose it. I lived. My reality sucks, sometimes, though. Before Charlie died, minor things going wrong didn't upset me as often, or to the level, that they upset me now. Before Charlie died, I wasn't overwhelmed as often. Before Charlie died, I could sometimes comfort or help other people without becoming upset myself. And because one of the prevalent views of strength in our country is to not need help - and being upset usually involves needing help, or comfort, or some sort of assistance - it did not and does not feel like strength. It feels like weakness.

But this is not the side of me that most people see.

Most people see me in "public" because they are the "public". I often reserve crying and shows of emotion for at home. In fact, our culture often expects men to "be strong" for their wife - which means that grieving men are expected to not show emotion when their wife shows emotion - which is not healthy for the grieving man, either.

Repressing emotion isn't healthy for any of us, but it can feel shameful, embarrassing, or weak to cry or show sadness or other related feelings (depression, anxiety, being overwhelmed, PTSD) in public. So, many grieving parents squash or hide it, and even if they choose to talk openly and passionately about their loss and even if they are activists for change in the world of pregnancy and infant loss, it often comes with the parent quashing the feelings that would be considered "weak emotion" when in public.

So if you ever want to say I'm strong, know that I'm struggling with how our culture usually defines the word, regardless of how you mean it. Please consider being more specific about what you say ("you are brave to speak out about your child" or "I feel like I would cry all the time. I bet it's hard."). Each loss parent has different phrases or topics that might be difficult, so think about what you say - but don't let that stop you from talking to us. It's hard to reach out when you are grieving, and it can be isolating. If I don't say yes right away, don't force me, just be patient and ask again another time. And if you aren't sure about whether something you say would be a phrasing that might bother someone, explain what you are trying to mean, and ask them how they would like you to say it. I know I truly appreciate the people to take a minute to try to understand my worldview, and language is an important aspect of it.

Love to you and all of yours,

Sarah

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

Mother's Day and Father's Day on my Mind at Once - Plus Tips on How to Support a Grieving Loved One

(Topic: grief, holidays, support)

I know a mama who planted an azalea for every one of her babies who died. This one in my yard makes me think of her.

Hi Friends,

This post is a bit later than I'd intended, because this week is a tough one for loss families of many kinds. Being a mother who lost a child (at any age), or being a child (of any age) who lost a mother at some point - or being a non-traditional mother in any way you might be able to think of - all make Mother's Day a particularly tricky holiday, since much of the publicity and focus of the holiday is on a traditional mother with traditional living children of her own DNA.

There is actually an International Bereaved Mother's Day, which is on the 1st Sunday in May instead of the 2nd Sunday - primarily used to specifically support loss moms and to raise awareness. However, regular Mother's Day was actually founded in honor of a loss mom, so opinions are mixed about whether having a separate day is necessary or helpful.

Because of my background, I'm going to focus more on my personal experience of being a mother who lost a pregnancy (and thus a baby), but who isn't visible as a mother (because of having no living children).

A friend of mine suggested that this post should be tips on how to get through the holiday. I thought I'd seen some articles about that, and can't find ones with specific tips. My main thought for you, though, is just to listen to your gut: if you want to do things like church or brunch or being with family, do it! If you want to stay home, do that! Just communicate with your spouse or whomever you live with, so that everyone is on the same page, otherwise someone might have different expectations of what will happen, and that is a recipe for hurt feelings really easily, especially because we are more likely to be emotional. (I am going to link to some other articles, both for loss moms and for supporting friends and family, at the end of the post.)

Here's the thing for us, though, that complicates Mother's Day: we end up thinking a lot about Father's Day at the same time. I know they are a month apart, but the little boy who made me a mother was born on Father's Day, so thinking of him and the story of his death and birth all at once (because I'm thinking of how I'm a mom) also makes me think of the day he was born.

Last year, I followed my heart and figured out that I really wanted to have a more traditional Mother's Day, so we went to church, I got given a carnation, and I asked to be taken out to brunch even though I knew that being around so many families with kids would be hard. And it meant a lot to me, and went well.

This year, I don't know if it's me being more confident in my invisible motherhood or if I'm just in a different place in my life, or whether I have so much other stuff on my mind with our upcoming move etc, but this year I don't want all the trappings of Mother's Day. A friend asked if I would be ok with her sending me a card - and I am! I still appreciate having my mother-ness recognized. But I don't feel the need to be public about it this year. It's simplified by the fact that Mother's Day happens to fall on a family birthday this year, so we're really focusing the weekend on celebrating that birthday, which lets me largely ignore the other holiday aspect.

So here is my tip for family and friends who want to support a grieving family, whether it's Mother's Day, or Father's Day, or actually really any other holiday (because it will be on our mind that our little one should have been there and isn't): listen to the grieving parent. Listen to anything they say or hint about whether they are excited or uncomfortable, whether there are parts of the holiday they are not looking forward to or are nervous about. And respect that feeling: don't push them into doing something they aren't comfortable with. Also, ask if you're not sure! I really appreciated my friend asking whether I was comfortable getting a Mother's Day card. It left the choice in my hands, which meant I could respect my feelings in how I replied. Don't assume that the grieving family doesn't want to do something. They might want to, or they might have mixed feelings, or they might even change their mind just before hand, or even have to leave halfway through. Please respect that. By listening to their gut and their heart, they are taking care of their mental health.


Have a gentle Mother's Day, however you choose to do it. 💗

To the Mothers Hurting on Mother's Day (this article acknowledges the feelings you may have)

This Mother’s Day: Honoring the Mothers Whose Empty Arms Ache (this article also acknowledges your feelings)

7 Ways to Include the Grieving Mother on Mother's Day (for friends and family)

7 Ways to Remember the Hurting Mothers this Mother's Day (for friends and family)

Supporting the Mama Who is Pregnant After Loss on Mother’s Day (for friends and family supporting a mom having a subsequent pregnancy)

Supporting Your Friend On Mother’s Day: When The Day Is Not ‘Happy’ (some ideas for moms, and several helpful ones for friends and family)


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

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

Copyright anxiety

(Topic: Anxiety, copyright, right-of-usage)

Hi Friends,

I'm not sure if you've noticed that I try to post twice a week. Generally on Wednesdays I try to post something specific to life after loss, and on Saturdays I often keep it lighter with pictures of something I've made.

Recently, though, on January 26th, I missed a day without letting you know. And after that post, any pictures in my blog have had a copyright notice on them, either as a watermark or as text across the picture. Why?

Well, a blogger friend of mine has been having issues with her images and sometimes text being used without linking back to her blog (attribution), and without permission.

If someone wants to share one of our blog posts, it's easy: copy the link in your browser, and paste the link wherever! If you paste in Facebook, then your post in Facebook will have a preview of the post with a link and a picture. If you paste the link in Pintrest, it will let you choose which picture to show.

What you should not ever do, is save a picture and use it as though it were yours, without saying where it comes from. ALWAYS give credit to the person that the picture is from!

In the United States, by writing something, I own what I wrote ("copyright"). So anything that I write in my blog in my own words is mine. Out there for people to read, but it's mine! So to remind people, I put a copyright notice at the bottom of my blog.

~~~

Well, I had a conversation with my friend on how to prevent unauthorized usage that doesn't give her credit, such as adding a copyright notice at the bottom of her blog, adding watermarks or text to her images, and such, and talking with her on how to report Facebook or Pintrest posts that use her work without linking to her blog or giving her credit, and also advising her how to contact site administrators for other websites if people there are using her material.

I hope this conversation helped her.

Unfortunately, it had the side effect of making me worry that the same sorts of things were happening to my pictures and my posts. It's not as likely (her topic is much more sharable than mine) but it worried me so much that I couldn't post that day. Or the next day. Or the one after that.

The downside of life after infant loss is that you often end up with side-symptoms, like depression symptoms or anxiety symptoms or ptsd symptoms (though often not enough for a full diagnosis of that thing, interestingly). In my case, I have grief with a side of anxiety. This means that small things loom really large, and the idea of adding watermarks going forward was already difficult, but add to it the thought that someone might be stealing Charlie, and that I should add watermarks going back through all the old posts too!!! You might imagine that this ended up becoming a pretty hefty roadblock, mentally.

Once I worked myself back up to it, I started adding watermarks and text to my images just on the posts I was writing new, though I am also slowly working on older posts too. I'll be keeping my eye out for people using my material without permission - but if you see it first, please let me know!

In the meantime, if I post something useful, that you want to share, PLEASE DO!!!
JUST BE SURE TO DO IT BY COPYING THE LINK, NOT THE PICTURE!!!

Thank you all so much!!!💗💕


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

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

Dear Charlie's Mama, Are You OK?

(Topic: Emotions, Support networks for grief)

Hi Friends!

This is a FAQ!!! I have enough readers now that I've started getting occasional questions, and this post will be structured based on that. Thanks for all your feedback and support!


You seem sad. Are you OK?
 
Thank you for your concern! Yes, I'm generally ok. I have hobbies, a therapist, a great family, and fabulous friends. Having something to do and people who care means that even if I have a sad moment, I can get through it to a neutral moment or a happy moment too.

While I may seem to focus a lot on sad topics, that is because of the way I've structured this blog: While Saturday posts are generally about fiber arts and emotion-neutral, Wednesday posts tend to focus on grief related issues. That does not mean, though, that I experience these grief issues every day, or constantly, or am always down. But having you check in on me is great, thank you - if I were really struggling, I might not think of reaching out for help, or I might not emotionally be able to.

Sharing things like hotline numbers is important, and I'm sharing one for infant loss and grief support below. But sometimes it can be daunting to call a stranger. If there is a friend you haven't heard from in a while, reaching out to them and just checking in can sometimes be a huge help. It can be very hard to admit you need help, and sometimes even harder to ask for it.

For grief and loss support. Image from First Candle's Facebook page.

Is every picture on your blog something you made or photographed?

In short, yes. Unless I give credit to someone else, all photos are taken by me, all artwork is by me, and all knitted and sewn items are mine. I'm very careful to give credit when I use an image from online that does not belong to me, though I sometimes forget to give my family credit if some of the snapshots of Pookie and such are by them! It's not intentional, though: I try to always give proper credit or citations if I use anything from anyone else. The only exception is that you may notice me anonymize things for people's privacy, and that is still with their knowledge if at all possible.

If you see a drawing I made, or a photo of something I handcrafted, and want to know more about the project, or the inspirations or materials, just ask in the comments below that post!!! I'd love to answer.


Where do I find your blog?

If you are reading this, you've found me! If you'd like to share, though, here are the places that Being Charlie's Mama can be found:

• http://clothespress.blogspot.com
• Email subscription, instructions here for how to subscribe (The day I post something. No spam or other emails, just a preview and link to the actual blog post)
• Instagram @being_charlies_mama (links to the actual blog posts)
• Facebook site www.facebook.com/beingcharliesmama (links to the actual blog posts, and occasional reposting/sharing of articles from other resources)

So far I haven't gotten many more questions that aren't covered by these, so please comment below if you have more questions!

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

Look at all the babies

(Topic: Grief vs. other people's pregnancies/babies)

Dear Friends,

Lately, I feel like every single person I know is having a baby - including about half my grief group members, local friends, Facebook friends, and even our favorite waitress at the diner we go to every week. This, itself, has been hard for me, but then - Princess Kate had her new little one too. Babies everywhere, and none for me.

I'm on a number of pregnancy and infant loss Facebook groups, and many of them pass around information, news articles, and blog posts that are relevant to current events. Mostly, it ends up being about people who have a loss or who advocate for those who do, but occasionally there are posts that end up specifically addressed to members of the loss community. When Princess Kate stood beautifully for the cameras holding a lace-wrapped princely bundle, a post came out addressed to moms - like me - for whom that image is painful. I'd like to share the link here, for those of you who are interested: https://www.mamamia.com.au/sad-about-royal-baby-news/

[I'm not including an image of the royal family here. It would be too hard for me to see]

The thing is, I'm not sad for the Princess - I'm happy for her. I'm happy her baby is healthy, and, more simply, alive. I'm happy that she has a new little one to cuddle and love and care for. But I'm so insanely jealous it hurts, and seeing her picture (and those of my friends on Facebook) makes the emptiness in my arms that much more tangible. I'm happy for my friends, I'm happy for the grief group members who are growing their own rainbow babies*, and I'm happy for my waitress, too. But I'm sad for myself, for my empty arms, and for my broken heart.

But the thing is, I also feel sorry for the Princess: I wish she had private time to recover, and to snuggle and enjoy. I wish that birth and death were more respected by the media, and given more private space. Plus, I can't help thinking about the terrible outcomes that didn't happen: What plans did the royal advisors have in place if something went wrong? Would the media have been told to back off? I hope so.These are the thoughts that occur to me, and I know that, because of similar thoughts, some who have further children after a loss decide to hold off on a baby shower or similar preparation, because we don't know that it will turn out ok. Others decide to make the most of the time they have, and do ALL the celebration - because they want good memories, even if things turn out badly. I don't know where I fall, yet, because I'm not going through it, yet. It seems to be very personal, which way people lean.

Another reason that it hurts so much to see the Princess, smiling, with her third little one in her arms; and the reason I sometimes unfollow friends on Facebook with small children; and the reason I cried at the diner; is that I'm hoping so hard, wishing so hard, to have another little one of my own. We want to give Charlie a little brother or sister, and we also want the experiences of being a diaper-changing mama and papa, because that is what we were hoping for with Charlie. With Charlie, we got turned into a memory-keeping mama and papa - which is a very important job - but that was not what we had been picturing. We'd like to reapply for the diaper job, please!

I'd like to try to describe what it feels like, sometimes, when I see a picture. I'm not sure I can completely capture it... When I see good news of someone's baby, a birth announcement, a carseat picture on the way home from the hospital, or just a cute wee one in mama's arms, the first thing I feel is a knot in my stomach. Over time I've learned that it is a knot of sad, which often only unravels with tears. I see the picture, and I see what I don't have, but twice: what I never got with Charlie, and what I don't yet have with a next child. The next thing I feel is hate, for the mother (not hating the mother herself, mind you). As that passes, I realize that it isn't hate, just really strong jealousy. And then I usually look away, scroll more, or change my activity, because it is too painful, sometimes, to be faced with what I don't have. Sometimes I cry.

There are many people dealing with loss, or infertility, or other related issues, who may not be able to view the joy of someone else's baby with the expected happiness. I only know it from my own perspective, that of a prior loss but with the possibility of a future child or children. I cling to hope. But sometimes it still hurts.

Yours,

Sarah


* Some terms to know that are commonly used in the pregnancy/infant loss community:

• Sunshine baby (a child before the loss)
• Angel baby (the loss - I have also seen "star baby" though I don't see it often)
• Rainbow baby (after the loss, which is the "rain", comes the rainbow - and you can't have a rainbow without first having rain)

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's First Flight

[trigger warning: this post will discuss themes related to strong emotion, miscarriage, fear, and grief]

 Dear Friends,

Guess who just took his first airplane flight?!? [and probably his last... more on that later].

We recently took a trip to Boston, and this was the first time I'd flown with Pookie. Previously, all trips we've taken with him have been some form of road trip.

The first exciting moment was when we got to the security checkpoint at the departure airport. I had Pookie in my carry on, so he'd be with me, plus I wouldn't quite trust the baggage handlers to not lose him or something... This was an airport in a smaller city, and despite Pookie's X-ray showing the sand weights inside of him as just "dense", they swabbed him down, he came up clean, and the young man who was the agent swabbing him down was very receptive to my explanation of "please be careful, he's a bereavement bear who is weighted to weigh the same as my son who died..." to which his response was "that is such a good idea!" We cleared security with no issues and went on our way.

Pookie liked being up high. I love being up high. We had a reasonable flight, layover, and flight, though a little bumpy because the weather was gusty.

I've already posted about Pookie's adventures in Boston. I'll skip over that, and tell you about the day we left Boston.

After our visit in Boston was over, I was ready to go home. I'd over-done it a bit, had a sore foot, and was having an off day. Then a character in my book had a miscarriage, and then a friend did too, so I was hearing about that all day... all that to say, I wasn't exactly in a great place starting the whole travel home. I'd already been weepy on and off, and was generally really ready to just get back to the comfort of my own home.

When in the airport in Boston, we'd successfully checked our bags despite having to rearrange some weight, and had plenty of time to spare. The security line was completely empty, so we thought this would go smoothly! I always opt out for personal reasons, and choose to be patted down rather than walk through the x-ray gates. For some reason, I was waiting forever, while my carry on and purse were already long since on the other side (and, incidentally, not within my view, either).

Eventually, a female agent finally came around to pat me down, and asked me where my things were. I pointed out 2 of my bins, and then as I saw the third bin with Pookie - unsurprisingly having been selected to be swabbed down - I saw Calvin's face, and my heart started to pound. I knew something was wrong and that it would not be as simple as it was on the way there.

As I was getting patted down, hubby and the other agents filled me in that, because Pookie's insides look dense and funny on x-ray, we couldn't touch him, and they had literally called the bomb squad. Despite the swab coming up clean. I started to shake and get very upset, as they hemmed and hawed, and wouldn't let us near the bear (though the female agent was very kind, and made sure that while she finished the pat down, I was facing Pookie the whole time, and she held a box of tissues near me for most of the rest of this story).

When the bomb squad agent came, he asked about the x-ray and about the swab: and despite it being clean, since he had been called and because the x-ray just shows that the sand is dense, and doesn't show what it is, and since the other agents didn't believe our (true) story about what a Molly Bear is, he had to check things himself. At this point he told us that he has, in the past, actually cut open teddy bears, to sample the sand and make sure it's not problematic. This, however, is problematic on another front: this is traumatic for the loss parents, since the bear is a stand-in for their child. It is traumatic to be flagged as a threat, when you are flying with a bear that is supposed to bring you comfort. And it is particularly traumatic when they think your poor little bear is a bomb threat, and start threatening him with knives. Not only that, but the bears are weighted to the tenth of an ounce! Cutting open the bear and taking a sample to test could ruin that, which would be horrible too.

The bomb squad man seemed (a tiny bit) sorry to be putting us through this, though the other agents didn't seem to be. But at this point he talked down to me, and said that "bad guys" (literally his wording) use teddy bears to smuggle things. And he only said that he had cut open bears, not that he was about to do it to Pookie, but it was pretty strongly implied that he was considering it. Eventually he said that we would have to expect this treatment at any airport we went through (we didn't, obviously, but we don't know which airports will have hyper agents and which have more humane agents, so that's a gamble). And I asked what our options would be - if we don't want him threatened with surgery. He said an option would be to put the bear in the checked baggage. I didn't say it in reply - but they scan those too, and open those when I'm not there to defend Pookie! So NO WAY IN H.... would I trust that option! So it seems our only option would be to NEVER FLY AGAIN.

At some point the other agents, including a supervisor, seemed to get tired of watching me try not to hyperventilate, and said loudly in their huddle of agents that "THIS YOUNG LADY IS CLEARLY QUITE DISTRAUGHT, CAN WE FIND A SOLUTION?" After which they muttered for a bit and decided to let us go, but with a strong warning.

As you can imagine, this was absolutely terrifying to go through. And very, very difficult to relive, as I have been typing. Hubby was just as upset as I was, and it took us a very long time to calm down. We both looked reasonably calm by the time we boarded our plane, though we were still quite overwrought by the experience. And as you can imagine, neither of us ever wants to go through airport security with Pookie again. Pookie himself was very patient through it all, and gave marvelous hugs to me and Daddy (hubby) as soon as we were through. But despite the fact that I love planes, we will not be flying again. And if you have a weighted bear, I urge serious caution about traveling with them by plane - at least as long as airport security functions the way it currently does. The sense of relief when we'd finished the layover and second flight and got out of the airport and finally to our own car, on our own terms... it was such a long trip. We were so glad to get home.


Yours,

Sarah

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