Grief & Sleep

A deep, dreamless sleep evades me many nights.  I have often been an inconsistent sleeper I think, but after the loss it is much worse.

I find that days after nights with less sleep, the grief is a heavier burden to carry. Lack of sleep makes me more emotional.  If I have a decent sleep, I feel like I can handle things a bit better, and that makes me feel more confident in dealing with certain situations.  It is strange how even sleep and grief have a relationship.

Even if I have a “good” sleep, grief sometimes takes over my dreams.  You cannot escape it sometimes.  I think it is my subconscious working out all the details and feelings that I don’t get to in a regular, busy day of life.   I’ve had dreams where I try to explain to people what happened – like why she might have died. I’ve had dreams arguing with people over things I can’t even remember but I just have the feeling of being hurt and alone when I wake up.  Shortly after the loss, I had a very emotional dream where I was hugging a little girl, in Angel’s room. We were sitting on her bed, made with the hungry caterpillar sheets I bought for her. She was maybe 2 years old.  It was so vivid. I hugged her tight and told her I loved her so much. 

I’ve had quite a few dreams more recently with butterflies, and they are usually pretty vivid also and mostly comforting.  I like to think that is Angel visiting me.

A spring walk

After we lost Angel, we spent alot of time going for long walks.  We discovered a path near our house that follows a creek all the way down to the lake. We spent many hours on this trail last fall.  I decided to go down to the lake today....it was a beautiful spring day and I saw dozens of butterflies! Here are some pictures.

The creek

Beautiful

Angel's name in the sand

The beach

Stillbirth & Surfing - a Grief Journey

I came across this video through my connections on Pinterest.  I found it moving for a few different reasons.  First, it is from the babyloss dad's perspective and he gives a brief yet heartfelt narration of his feelings after his daughter was stillborn.  The music & cinematography also moved me.  And finally, as my friend Jackie mentioned, he turned his grief for his child into something tangible, to be out on the waves with her.  Healing through creativity, healing in the ocean....it's beautiful.

http://vimeo.com/28056957

To lose a child ... was something that could end one's world. One could never get back to how it was before. The stars went out. The moon disappeared. The birds became silent. - Alexander McCall Smith

You got heaven instead

Will you get bitter or better

I have been reflecting a lot on my grief journey and recently read an article by another bereaved mother called “Will you get bitter or better.”  I know that I want to be better.  There will always be a profound sense of loss of what could have been.  This I know will be an ache in my heart forever.  But, who would want to be a bitter person? Someone that can’t appreciate life as it is, or that no one wants to be around? Meeting Angel and saying goodbye to her has had a significant impact on my life experience, however I know I can’t let this part of my life story eat away at me.  

“Time stopped for me when Grace took her last breath. And I was certain that my life would never start again.” 
I can relate to this so completely.  Time stood still for me also when we found out Angel was gone. It was hard to believe in a life after her death.

The article talks about how time doesn’t heal all wounds – hard work does. And the hard work takes time.  I am choosing to get better – so now what?   What I, and many bereaved mothers struggle with, is moving past the sorrow.

This sorrow is “tangible evidence of her brief life. The loss of the sorrow can feel like an additional death or worse, the final death, as you feel like you are choosing to deny your child’s entire existence.”   The writer urges us to take the risk and have the courage to heal.  Take the thorns with the roses.

“Grace would have been the rose I would have preferred. But that rose is not available to me.  The rose of wisdom is. I share that wisdom because it is a gift of grace…Grace’s legacy is manifested when I share the wisdom she left me.”

“Live a life less controlled by fear. All healing is possible.”

I want to believe it.  Some days it is easier than others.  Some days I am lost in my own world of grief and can’t see past it.  Some days I do.

“The past is gone.  The future is not yet here.  RIGHT NOW – I am free of both.  What am I choosing right now?  I choose joy.”

She will not be forgotten

Grateful and Grieving - it is a fine balance

From Grieving Mothers

"I have so much to be grateful for in my life...but sometimes I just can't get past the fact that you are gone... I never knew how lonely I could feel until you grew your wings."

This is not an easy path

Sometimes I get the sense that people are waiting with bated breath for me to get over the loss of Angel.  They think, if enough time passes and we just give her enough space, and we don’t mention this horrific thing that happened, losing her first child, it will somehow just magically pass and we can all “get back to normal.”  I guess I want to just set the record straight that there is no getting over or getting back to anything.  To feel judged or to be told how to view this loss, or to have it ignored, hurts.  And I know people can hug me and walk away, or hang up the phone, or click send on the email, and then go on with their own life.  They don’t really have the deep pain that resonates inside, that jumps out and grabs you when you least expect it, that has impacted every facet of your life and who you are now.  Of course they don’t, as they aren’t living this.

Jeff said to me early on that the two of us will be alone with this the rest of our lives.  And you know what, in a lot of ways that is so true.   I don’t want to place unreasonable expectations on others that have no desire to be there, but I will find and nurture the relationships that will help me heal.   We can build our new circles of support which I am incredibly thankful for, but often many of the old circles don’t get the new us, or let us down, or impose expectations on us that are unrealistic and frankly uncaring.  This is not an easy path.

White butterfly returns

I had someone come by the house yesterday to talk about the garden I want to build in my backyard.  During the consultation, I didn't say it was Angel's garden but it will be.  Because it is shady where I plan to build it, my plans may have to be altered a bit but he did say we could incorporate a rose bush which makes me happy.

Just a hour or so after that, I was sitting in my living room and I saw my first white butterfly of the season fly through the backyard.  And so she returns.

They are closer than we know

Last night I went to a face to face meet with a dozen or so other babyloss moms. We had a psychic medium join us, named Anne, and it was an amazing experience.  She led us through a guided meditation to start.  In my meditation, I felt the presence of my Nona, my grandfather and Angel.   It was such a happy reunion and it felt very special. In the back of my mind, I thought – if Angel comes through in a reading tonight, I want her to come with either Nona or grandpa. 

After the guided meditation, she started to do readings for each of us. 

Anne had us move to the seats facing her when she was trying to read us. I was facing her with 3 other women who lost sons.   She said she saw big flashes of pink – and which of us had a daughter?  I told her I did.  She then said that she saw Angel as a perfectly formed baby, that was just not quite yet full term. She said Angel had a very strong energy.  She confirmed that she was born still (which I hadn’t told her).  She then said that Angel was growing perfectly and then something went wrong fairly suddenly and without warning.  She said that how we found out about her death was also sudden and unexpected.  

Anne then asked if I had an older woman/family member that had crossed to the other side also and I said yes, my grandmother. She said that my Nona is holding Angel and that she is with her on the other side.  My Nona sent a few messages through and they were all comforting to hear. One of the best things to hear was that she said she is taking care of Angel and not to worry about her, and they are also helping to protect me here.

 

8 months

Dear Angel

Today marks 8 months since I held you in my arms.  This month’s anniversary crept up on me.  It feels like I was just writing the 7 month posting yesterday.  Time seems to fly by but your daddy and I never forget you, we think about you and talk about you all the time.  We love you so much.

A graphic made by my friend Amanda

 __________

A miracle has happened. A life has begun.

"Are you there, God?" "Yes, I am here, Angel," the Lord whispered.

"Where am I?" "You are in the womb of your mother," God smiled.

"Oh. What is that sound?" Angel asked. "It is the voice of your mother, Angel. She is singing to you."

"It’s beautiful." "Yes, she loves you very much," God said.

"I feel warmth on my back," Angel whispered. "Yes, she is rubbing her stomach, caressing you the best she can right now. She is speaking to Me about you. She is asking Me to care for you."

"I will kick her back so she knows I love her too," Angel said excitedly. God smiled.

"Now what is she saying, God?" "Your mother is laughing, Angel."

"She is happy, isn't she God?" "Yes, Angel, she is happy."

"I hear a different sound. What is that" "It is the voice of you dad."

"He sounds strong". Angel said. "Yes," answered God.

"Does he love me too?" "More than his own life," God whispered.

"When do I get to see him, God?" "Not for awhile, my Angel."

"I'm not feeling so well, God." "I know my daughter, but soon you will fly."

"I will fly?" "Yes," God smiled.

"Will my mother fly with me?" "Someday," God said.

"I think I am ready," Angel whispered. ""I know, my child."

"Is it time to fly now, God?" "Yes," God said gently and wiped his eyes.

"When will I see you, God?" "Very soon, My daughter."

--

"Is that my mother and dad?" "Yes, Angel," God said and pulled the child unto his lap.

"Why are they crying?" "They cry for you, My child," God answered as He wrapped His arms around the girl.

"Why do they cry for me?" Angel asked. "Because they want to hold you in their arms."

"But instead You hold me in your arms, huh, God?" "Yes, my daughter," God said.

"Why does that make them sad? I like it in Your arms!" "They love you very much, Angel, It can make a mommy's and daddy's heart sad when they don't get to hold their children - I know how it feels to watch My Child die."

"Have I died, God?" "Just on earth, Angel."

"I don't feel dead. I feel very much alive! Watch how fast I can run!" Angel crawled down from God's lap. "Yes, Angel, you are fast," God clapped.

"Now watch me fly!" Angel said as she soared high. "You are amazing!" God laughed.

Angel settled back into the safety of God's arms and said, "When will my parents fly, God?" "Someday, my child."

"Will we fly together?" "Yes, Angel, My mark is on their foreheads."

"Good." Angel said. Will you tell them I am safe and happy?" "I will comfort them, my dearest child."

"Will they be happy again?" "Yes, child. They will heal."
"And someday we will all get to be with You, huh, God?" "Yes, Angel. Someday," God promised.

"I love you, God," Angel said as she snuggled close to God. "I love you too daughter," God said as He put His hand on Angel's head. "Take good care of my parents until they fly!" Angel said.

"I promise," God whispered. 

A visit to New York

Jeff and I visited New York this weekend.  I went there thinking I had to somehow incorporate Angel into the visit. 

One way we did that was visiting with a couple of other loss moms that I made friends with online and enhancing those friendships by visiting face to face and talking about our children. Here are some photos of our visit with Tasha & Rasheedah.  So great to meet them in person!  It was also the one year anniversary of Rasheedah's son Joey's death.  She brought some photo albums and we were able to see the joy he brought her in his short three years of life.  It was a bit surreal meeting these ladies in person, after the months of support I have found from them online. 

I also went to New York thinking I'd like to write Angel's name somehow if I could. I even brainstormed a bit with my friend Dana at lunch last week, about how I might do it - finding sand to write her name or even bringing a piece of paper with her name on it.  As we were touring New York I kept thinking about it, and what happened was her name found me. 

We saw this Blue Angels plane at the museum we chose to visit, called Intrepid.

The next day we went to the 9-11 memorial site, where they have built two remembrance pools where the twin towers once stood. Surrounding the pools where cement & metal type barriers with the engraved names of the thousands of people that were tragically killed that day. 

As I walked along one of the pools, Angel's name popped up again.

I found it so appropriate that her name just appeared to me, like it was waiting there for me to walk by and see it.   I didn't read every single name engraved or even walk around all four sides of the two pools, but there it was.   I'm so glad it appeared to me that way.

Adjusting my sails

I love this quote.  Elizabeth Edwards is a loss mom also.  Which makes it resonate even more with me I think.  Life after loss is a journey and Angel has inspired me to look toward the possibilities in life, how to continue on without her, as hard as that is at times, and to try to make proud.    I can't predict how this journey is going to play out, but I feel like I am adjusting the sails and trying to find my way.  I think Angel will be my guide.

Repost from HelloBee - Stillbirth - What others should know

We are very open in society about many things, but death and grieving remains taboo.  I’ve learned a lot over the past five years about myself, my marriage, my family, and my faith.  I’ve learned that people do have questions, that there is misinformation out there, and generally that people don’t know what to say.  So, here are the top five things that I and many other moms that I’ve met over the years would like others to know about stillbirth:

1)    Our babies were not “pregnancy losses.”  Luke was a baby. He had a name, he had possessions, and he had clothes I’d planned for him to wear.  I went through 30 hours of labor and gave birth to him.  I know that referring to him as “lost” is a euphemism for “dead,” which makes people more comfortable, but it’s OK to say he died.  He was a person and he died.  He’s part of our family and it hurts when others don’t understand that, even if their intentions are good.

2)    It’s OK to use their names.  In the early days of my grief after Luke’s death, a cousin of mine who herself had a stillborn daughter eight years prior told me, “There will come a time when the pain isn’t so raw, about to bubble to the surface.  There will come a day when you can say his name and not cry.”  And it’s true.  I have found, though, that people don’t generally use his name.  They’re afraid to upset me, I know.  But believe me, the opposite is true.  I know he died, and your using his name won’t remind me of something I’ve forgotten.  Rather, using his name shows me that you respect his memory and is more of a gift than you will ever know.

3)    We blame ourselves.  This is one of the few problems that does get better with time.  But it takes a long time.  Our bodies betrayed us and our babies, and at the end of the day, we feel responsible.  We think back over every detail of our lives, wondering if we had done just one thing differently, if it would have changed the outcome.  What if I fought harder for the doctor to check things out?  I slipped on the ice that February; what if it caused something to go wrong?  I ate pizza.  I wore black pants and socks with penguins on them.  I exercised.  I watched “Grey’s Anatomy.”  What did I do wrong?  Our friends will tell us that it isn’t our fault, our doctors will tell us, the world will tell us.  But in reality, this is one of the toughest pills to swallow.  It’s easier to blame yourself than to accept that which you could not, and cannot, control.  Yesterday, my 17-month-old did a face plant on his way back from the park with my husband.  I wasn’t even there, and I blamed myself.  We’re mothers; it’s what we do.

4)    Sometimes, there is no reason.  There are cases where a cause for stillbirth is known, but about 50 percent of the time, no cause can be found.  One way isn’t easier or better, and both render subsequent pregnancies really, really hard.  In my case, we know that a malformation in the umbilical cord resulted in Luke’s death.  However, when I got pregnant again, I already knew all the things that could go wrong (Google was not my friend!) and spent the better part of the next nine months in an almost-constant state of panic.  Many people told me to “Enjoy my pregnancy” or “Stop worrying, it’s bad for the baby.”  I’m not a fan of these statements. Whether someone has experienced a stillbirth, miscarriage, or is having a “normal” pregnancy – some people don’t enjoy pregnancy.  And that’s OK.  They’ll still bond with their babies and be great moms.  Let’s not make them feel bad.

5)    It will shake you to the core.  There’s good news and bad news.  Bad news first: After a stillbirth or the death of an infant or child, marriages suffer, relationships fall apart, and life feels broken.  Risks of depression, suicide, and substance abuse increase.  But there is good news: There is more support and information now for bereaved parents than ever before.  We are not afraid to share our stories with the hope of helping others.  Years ago, people were told to move on, to forget, and to “replace” their babies.  Thanks to the work done by so many amazing individuals, this is beginning to change.  Resources are out there, and you don’t have to go it alone.  Many moms of stillborn babies, myself included, go on to have successful pregnancies and deliver healthy babies.  It isn’t easy, but we do it, and we lift each other up and carry each other through the dark times.

Today, I would describe my perspective as one of quiet acceptance.  I can’t change where I’ve been, and I can’t turn back time. But I appreciate all three of my children, and I often look at my 4-year-old and 17-month-old and wonder what I did to get so lucky.
I will never walk along the shore with Luke, and I will never see him grow up.  Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what he would have been like or think about what he’d be doing.  I take the little coincidences in life as a hopeful sign that he is with me, watching over me.

Last year, as I walked on the beach with my then-3-year-old, we found a stick and wrote Luke’s name in the sand.  A piece of driftwood washed up at my feet, and when I picked it up, it had the name “Luke” carved on it. I brought the driftwood home, and it sits on my bedside table, a reminder that while I cannot carry Luke in my arms, I will always carry him in my heart.  He is my son, and I’m proud of him.

And I hope he’s proud of me too.

Tiny Footprints on a Mother's Heart

Tiny Footprints on a Mother's Heart

When a baby arrives,

be it for a day or perhaps only a sweet moment

the fragile spark of a tender soul

the flutter known to only you-

the tiny footprints left behind on your heart

your name is Mother.