When I lost Angel I did become unravelled. My trust and faith that all will be well was broken into a million pieces. Now, over two years later, it still affects the core of my being. Having our pup Mimi here has been such a joy but I worry a lot about her safety and how long she will be with us. She is a curious puppy and I fret about her chewing or eating something she shouldn't or running out the front door off leash -- all kinds of scenarios. I think this is the PTSD and also just the new pattern of my thoughts now. I realize how I will never be the same. I will always worry. And if we do bring children into the family I don't know how well I could manage the worry. I am sure it would be even more amplified. How do babyloss moms handle this?? It is a struggle to believe that all will be well.
On the positive side it does make me reflect on how precious life and all its experiences are. It forces me to live in the present and just enjoy what I have while I have it. I just wish I could focus completely on that without the dread.
This is our pup Mimi -- we adopted her about 10 days ago, and we love her so much!! I was crying a bit the other night and she just sat on my lap and licked the tears. This girl brings us so much joy. :) it is nice to feel joy in a piece of my heart again.
A grief wave has hit me and I can't even find the right words to write about it. Sometimes I feel so disconnected from Angel and it is hard to believe that she is here and with me, that her sprit is guiding me as I try to find my way without her. I have been feeling so sad lately and I just hope that one day sometime soon I can come out the other side.
She was due to be born October 7, 2011 -- which that year fell on thanksgiving weekend. Angel's due date still gets to me 2 years later. It is hard not to think about what should have been.
This past week a sibling of one of Jeff's colleagues lost their baby at 6 months. It triggered both of us. Why does this seem so common? It makes me want to scream about the unfairness of it all.
As much as I love October for it's changing colors and beauty, I hate how empty it makes me feel. Something is missing, always missing, and right now it just feels so very pronounced.
Someone at work today called me an old soul. I smiled politely, meanwhile thinking "oh yes you have no idea."
This soul has lived through terrifying moments of heartache, fear and immense sadness. Death has lived in me. I am haunted in many ways. I have searched for inner peace and have fought with myself to pull myself out of the darkness.
This soul has come to see the light again as well. I have many moments where I live in the present -- I am illuminated and alert. I do not take things for granted. My soul has grown so much.
My in laws were here one night in August, to celebrate our anniversary. I think sometimes I let myself believe that my other close family members don't think of Angel or hurt like I do. They don't often demonstrate it but that doesn't mean they don't hurt for her or for us.
We arrived back from dinner and were heading to the backyard to toast with some champagne. As I walked into the living room my father in law had Angel's urn in his hands. I was a bit taken aback as I kind of feel like people ignore her ashes for the most part. But seeing him, I felt my heart hurt. I realized he misses the connection and life that could have been just like Jeff and I do. He absolutely hurts too.
My mother in law I know feels the same. She wears a butterfly and an angel necklace around her neck every day. I love seeing them. It makes Angel more real.
Yes I have made it 2 years without her and it has been the most difficult emotional pain to manage. But I have made it 2 years without her. That is a milestone, and accomplishment and a testament to my strength and the support of my circle.
I remember so vividly holding you in my arms on this day 2 years ago.
I wonder what you might be up to if you had lived. We would probably be chasing you around as you explore, climbing the stairs and furniture. You would be feeding yourself. You would be talking to us and saying mama and daddy, and short phrases. You might imitate our guestures and words. You would have a favorite toy and would likely enjoy it when we read you stories. I am sure we would share many hugs and kisses.
We miss you every day and especially today.
Sending you all our love.
"We can't know why the lily has so brief a time to bloom in the warmth of sunlight's kiss upon its face before it folds into its fragrance and bids the world good night to rest its beauty in a gentler place. But we can know that nothing that is loved is ever lost and no one who has touched a heart can really pass away because some beauty lingers on in each memory of which they've been a part."
Ellen Brennerman
Owen's birthday wish for Angel.
I wonder what mischief they would have got up to together!!
In a lot of ways the 10th of August will always be known as the worst day of my life. It is the day we found out she was gone. It is a day of trauma and a nightmare that I can't believe I had to live through. Although today, 2 years later, is "just another day" in this life after loss, I get pulled back throughout the day with flashbacks and tears. It is not something that can be stopped.
My heart breaks and shatters all over again for her.
Jeff and I went to st joes today to donate the memory box for Angel's 2nd birthday.
I arranged to meet Kim, the social worker that helped us, again. She said she was honored to receive the memory box, which I thought was sweet of her to say.
I told her how the woman who received the box from last year did end up contacting me and she was glad to hear it. Kim said she would hold into the box, in her office, and keep it for when the time was right, just like last year.
I hate to think that someone will even need this box and will be reading my letter to her one day. But I do hope it can bring them some comfort.
For most of the spring and summer I have seen her. I look out the window to my yard and there she is. This little bird, a robin, sometimes looking my way and sometimes just minding her own business. I told my friend Jackie about it... That I keep seeing her. It almost makes me chuckle with the consistency of it. Feels like it could be spirit.
Jackie sends me this :)
The Robin Redbreast, has been subject of legend since the year Dot. quite literally. With the coming of Jesus Christ comes the legend of the Robins Red Breast. It is said that in Our Lords hour of need it was the Robin that tried to remove the thorns, it was the Robin that stood guard and only allowed the light to come near. It was this act of heroic bravery that caused a splash of blood to stain his red breast, this motive is still seen today and is worn with a pride by the Cock Robin. Also the Robin can be found in every church yard but will only be seen once it calls to you and once seen, it's unique character will become familiar to you as this sacred bird will visit you often whilst providing reassurance for a new beginning.
This bird is a visitor and as such should be appreciated as a welcome visitor bringing gifts, it is for you to interpret the gifts it brings. Someone recently passed maybe showing you that you are being watched, maybe just letting you know that they still love you.
Just as every human is different so is every Robin, so look at this Robin and identify it's unique features. It is no coincidence that next time he appears you will "KNOW" it is the same one. He will stay around for as long as he is needed and will re-appear if called for.
The Robin is a solitaire, strong, silent, guardian, protector even when looking after it's family it is rare for it to flock with others, preferring to be solitary and heard when it speaks.
This beautiful bird is earth tied meaning that it will stay on the earth, it's duties include that of the escort, meaning it is willing to escort the spirit to a new beginning. It is a part of the dawn chorus singing in the new day and it is a part of spiritual awakening, a gentle reminder of what has been and will be again.
I kind of hate this time of year now. The ticking clock, counting down the days to Angel's birthday. The flashbacks come fast and furious and unexpected. It is strange the things that pop into my head when I have a moment to let my mind wander -- in the shower, in the car.... Things from before, and after.
Despite the heartache that I continue to struggle with, I will always feel it was a privilege to know you baby girl and I wouldn't trade it for anything. You have taught me so much and have given me so much too. At the end of the day it isn't all about loss. And I need to continue to hold on to that as your 2nd birthday approaches. It is hard not to get swallowed by the anger and sadness again. I miss you!
How to talk to a parent who has lost a child. From someone who’s been there.
By SAMANTHA HAYWARD
The soul destroying agony of your child dying is only truly known and understood by those who have endured it. Four years on, I still glance down at my daughters grave in disbelief. Visiting my child’s grave is surreal. It’s almost like I’ve vacated my body and I’m watching someone I don’t know standing there putting flowers down.
Is this really my life ?
Only a parent understands the powerful bond you have with your child; that absolute undying love you have and that monumental desire that roars like an open fire inside you to protect that child at all costs. It is openly said that a parent will lay down their life for their child, but it is not until you have your own that you truly understand these fierce emotions. Parenting is wearing your heart on the outside of your body. Whatever you imagine it might be like to have your child die, multiply that by about a trillion and you’re probably not even close.
On the surface it appears society is accepting of this unbearable sadness and people are supportive and open to talking about it. However, in my situation I’ve been surprised by people’s genuine kindness and empathy as much as I’ve been repeatedly shocked & disappointed by their lack of it. It’s necessary for bereaved parents to be able to talk and, most of all, be able to talk openly. I’ve found it’s the only thing which dispels the trauma.
Sure, friends and family have been supportive, but it’s proven to be the case with me that there is a mandate as for how long their unwavering support, patience, understanding, concern and empathy lasts. The truth is, the situation is so unbearably sad that it becomes incredibly emotionally draining on the other person.
The realisation that they can’t fix your sadness sets in, the frustration builds because not even they can see an end in sight, then gradually it starts to impede on the happiness in their life. They haven’t lost their child so why should they spend all their time sad about yours?
I will, for the sake of all the other parents out there with empty arms, write ten things I wish people knew about the loss of a child. Maybe one of my ten points might make a difference to a bereaved parent’s life.
1. Four years on I get up every day with the exact same sadness I had the day Ella died. The only difference is I’m more skilled at hiding it and I’m much more used to the agony of my broken heart. The shock has somewhat lessened, but I do still find myself thinking I can’t believe this happened. I thought that only happened to other people. You asked how I was in the beginning yet you stopped, why? Where did you get the information on what week or month was good to stop asking?
2. Please don’t tell me that all you want is for me to be happy again. Nobody wants that more than I do, but it’s something that can only be achieved with time. On top of that, I have to find a new happiness. The happiness I once felt, that carefree feeling, will never return in its entirety. It also helps to have the patience and understanding from loved ones.
3. Please don’t say ‘I want the old Sam back!’ Or, I can see the old Sam coming back! Sam’s not coming back. This is who I am now. If you only knew the horror I witnessed and endured you would know it’s not humanly possible for me to ever be the same person again. Losing a child changes who you are. I’ve been told my eyes look haunted.
It’s a strange thing for someone to tell a grieving mother, but it’s true – I am haunted. My views on the world have changed, things that were once important are not now and vice versa. I feel as though you’re telling me two things here. Firstly you don’t like the person I am and, secondly if the old Sam’s not coming back I’m out of here. By the way there is nobody that misses the “old Sam” more than me!!! I’m mourning two deaths here; my daughter’s and my former self.
4. If you chose to acknowledge my daughter’s birthday or the anniversary of her death on the first year, it’s terribly gut wrenching when you didn’t bother to acknowledge the second or third or fourth. Do you think any subsequent birthday or anniversary is not as sad for me? It also says to me in very big neon lights that you’ve moved on and forgotten about my daughter.
5. Please stop with the continual comments about how lucky I am to have my other children particularly my daughter. Do I say this to you? Then why say it to me? I’ve buried my daughter do you seriously think I feel lucky?
6. It’s not healthy to cry in front of the kids? You’re wrong. It is perfectly healthy that they see I’m sad their sister has died. When someone dies it’s normal to cry. What would not be normal would be for my children to grow up and think “I never even saw my Mum sad over Ella’s death.” That would paint me in a light that would tell them it’s healthy to hide your emotions when obviously it’s not.
7. I have four children I don’t have three. If you want to ignore Ella as my third child because she’s dead go for it but don’t do it for me. Four not three!
8. There are still some days, yes four years on, that I still want to hide away from the world and take a break from pretending everything is oh so wonderful and I’m all better.
Please don’t just assume I’ve thrown in the towel, or worse, actually be so thoughtless as to wonder what’s wrong with me. I still know I’ve married the catch of the century and my children are gorgeously divine and I have a beautiful house, but I’m grieving.
It’s mentally exhausting, especially raising three young children and on top of that maintaining a strong and loving marriage. Unbeknownst to you, I’m dealing with not just my own grief, but my beautiful husbands and my two boys.
It would be nice if you congratulated me on the state of my family because keeping it together, stable and happy, has been hard work.
9. I did notice. To the friends and family that found the entire death and dealing with my sadness all too hard and held secret events behind our backs that were lied about, stopped inviting us to things we had always been included in and slowly ended our relationship thinking I didn’t notice.
I did notice. The only reason why I never said anything is because I’m not wasting my words on your shameful behaviour. I am thankful for something though – I didn’t waste any more time on people that were capable of such shallowness and cruelty. Please don’t fear. I would be the first one by your side if the same thing happened to you. That should give you some indication of how horrible it is.
10. Grieving for a child lasts until you see them again. It’s a lifetime. If you’re wondering how long your friend or family member might be grieving for, the answer is forever. Don’t rush them, don’t trivialise their sadness, don’t make them feel guilty for being sad and when they talk to you, open your ears and listen, really listen to what they’re telling you. It’s possible you’ll learn something. Don’t be so cruel as to give up on them remember it’s not about you it’s about them.
I’ve been left repeatedly heart broken as friends that I truly loved and never thought would walk away from me tossed me into the too hard basket or – more hurtfully – the crazy basket. Phone calls stopped, text messages stopped, comments on Facebook stopped and I get the same thing every time. “Sorry darling I’m just flat out”, “Let’s catch up soon” and “I miss you.” The list could keep going but I get it. I’m not the type of person either that is going to pursue a friendship I know the other person doesn’t want. Everyone has a conscience and thankfully I don’t have to live with theirs.
You would think there are a lot of articles that raise awareness of the awful process associated with grieving for a child, but even stories from other parents are a rarity. The sad reality is there just isn’t enough said or printed. You seldom hear through the media about grieving for a child and the impact their death has on all the various people involved.
It can destroy a marriage instantly, it can leave siblings hurt, confused and angry. Often siblings are too young to understand, they’re angry that their family is not the same and even angrier that they don’t recognise their parents. Losing their sibling is bad enough but so much more is lost for these siblings that is never recognised. I could count on one hand the amount of times I’ve been asked how my boys were.
You might hear about the gory details surrounding a child’s death in the media but that’s about all. There should be so much more written about this topic, and additionally it should be talked about more openly than it is. I’m disappointed not just for me but for all the other grieving parents in society that this topic is met with so much fear and silence.
The bottom line is people are uncomfortable with the situation and I really don’t know why. My feelings tell me it is such an horrific thing that most people don’t want to know about it. Maybe they fear through knowing so much they might become obsessed with their own children dying. Parents worry enough about their children already. Do they really need the added worry about knowing how your child died?
Without question, my daughter Ella dying suddenly has been the worst thing that has happened in my 37 years here on Earth. I doubt that anything in my future is going to top it. Actually, just between us, I beg and plead with God on a daily basis that nothing ever does top that experience, but the truth is I just don’t know.
I’m not a mind reader nor do I have a magic pair of glasses where I can see how the rest of my life will unfold. I just have to hope that nothing ever does, but I have a very real fear it will because it has actually already happened to me. I know without having to hold a psychology degree that having those fears is normal.
“I don’t think I would be able to survive something like it again.”
What I’ve endured, losing my little princess, has been so unimaginably horrific that I don’t think I would survive something like it again.
What I have had to give emotionally to get through it has dwindled away all my mental strength – just like twenty cents pieces in a kid’s piggy bank.
I’m broke – not broken – I’m broke emotionally. I know all the energy I’ve needed over the last four years has not just been spent on my grief for Ella.
It’s been on trying to get my friends and family to understand what it’s like to walk in my shoes. I’m angry about that. When I should have been grieving, I was defending myself.
I’m probably very close to being as angry about that as I am about her death. I wish I wasn’t angry. Lord knows I don’t need another emotion but I don’t know how to not be angry, especially with some of the things that people have said and done to me. I talk and talk yet I’m often never actually heard.
I’m not sure if it’s a lack of literature around or perhaps that people simply don’t want to read it because it’s so awful and they don’t want to know someone they love and care about it experiencing so much agony. I personally know though, if I found out a family member or friend had been diagnosed with an illness or disease, or worse, their child, I would be on Google immediately finding out more about it and how I could help them the best. So why is it that this doesn’t seem to apply with the death of a child?
Most people just think they know. I find this extremely frustrating. The death of your child is the worst thing that can happen to a person, yet most feel educated enough to advise, to criticise, to lend their words of wisdom when they don’t know the first thing about it. Get over it? Why don’t we see if you could get over it first!
Most people wouldn’t know that when I meet someone new I instantly become uncomfortable and filled with dread. I know at any moment when I engage in conversation the question is going to arise about my family and how many children do I have? I would love not to have to tell them. Life would be a lot easier if I could take that path. However, I do have another child. Her name is Ella. She would now be four but she died when she was 19 days old. She isn’t lost – I know exactly where she is, she’s dead.
Ella is my third child and she deserves to be acknowledged just as much as my other children. I’ve lied before saying I have only three children, but the guilt that follows me around for days on end is just simply not worth it. I can actually hear Ella saying to me “don’t I matter anymore Mummy?” “Why were you too ashamed to talk about me?”
So personally for me, as much as I don’t want to tell someone I don’t personally know very well that my daughter is dead, the guilt of not acknowledging her is worse. I don’t have three children, I have four and my daughter is not my only daughter – I have another as well. It’s pot luck what their reaction is going to be. There’s no telling what they’re going to say. You just have to close your eyes, cover your broken heart and hope they don’t plunge that knife further in.
If I could have my questions answered on why people give so much advice on a topic that they know so little about, it would really help me. What has surprised me so much since Ella’s death is how little empathy there is in the world. Empathy to me is a no brainier. You just imagine you’re in the other persons shoes, simple yes? Apparently no. Just think how you would like to be treated and if you wouldn’t like it don’t do it. You never know what your life holds – one day it could be you wearing my shoes!
I hope this article about my personal thoughts and opinions helps at least one person understand to some degree what life is like for the bereaved parent ❤
I dedicate this article to my soul mate, Darren. I’m the luckiest girl in the world having you, my darling. I love you more and more everyday you’re simply perfect and after fifteen years my heart still skips a beat with I see you. My friend Natalie Donnelly & her daughter Eryn. To put it simply: she is an angel and if the world was full of Natalies, it would be a better place. Also my bestie Liv thank you for letting me be and never smothering me with pointless words. Love you both xx
I went for my regular doctor checkup and I had to complete some forms with my basic health info...again even though I did it at my last annual appointment.
Number of pregnancies....1... flashback
Number of live births....0....flashback flashback
Have you ever stayed in the hospital overnight for treatment? Labour and still birth.....flashback flashback flashback
It is like a monkey on my back that follows me around. It eats away at my spirit and soul. How I wish I could shake it off, just once in awhile. This piece of my life that defines me in a totally different way.
Tomorrow will be 23 months since that fateful day when I found out she was gone. I can remember so many details like it was yesterday.
My heart will always weep for her. My soul is shaken by this loss forever.
A lot of emotions were brought to the surface for me this week. And it all stemmed from hurtful comments made first by someone that I haven't even met and then by a family member. It is too long and complex of a story to get into here but needless to say I was made to feel guilty, ashamed and less than the people that commented on my loss and the fact that I don't have any living children. I can't even begin to explain how hurtful this was. Scabs over wounds that had started to heal (as much as is possible with a journey that is never ending) were ripped off and a lot of feelings rose to the surface. I am disappointed that I let someone else make me feel so bad...I thought at this point I could deal with the hurtful comments and judgements. I guess not. Funny, the one comment made about not being over the loss of my daughter didn't nearly phase me as much as the rest of it. I guess I am used to that now. To know that people can sit in judgement when they haven't lost their child. The other comments, that insinuated losing Angel was my fault, and I suppose that I am a lesser person than them, left me pretty floored and tears were shed. I am mad that I am giving them the power to affect me but when you hit someone where it hurts most, it is almost impossible not to feel something.
I don't really want to turn Angel's blog into a place for an angry rant but I just cannot help it right now. This whole difficult experience has led to me feeling frustrated and hurt.
I will always protect the memory of my daughter and my love and feelings for her. Above all else.
It has been awhile since I have felt so hurt by things that people say... About Angel or this path that I am on.
Over the past few days I have heard a few comments that have really pierced me. It makes me so sad and angry.
In some cases I don't think it was out of malice -- just insensitive comments. Most recently though, someone said something to Jeff and by association me, that was so incredibly mean. The lowest blow. And the frustrating thing is that I barely know this person and I can't really retaliate... Not that I would but I feel like protecting Angel, Jeff and I by at least calling them out for being so cruel and insensitive. There is never an ok reason to thrash out at someone about the loss of their child and the pain that exists in this space after loss. Never ever. My heart hurts tonight.
I debated about writing this post this year as in some ways I don't feel that I am in that much of a different place. Some days I still feel somewhat lost and unsure of what the future holds. I have PTSD moments when I feel like I am reliving things. I still get sucked under the current of grief. A part of my soul died that day with her.
But when I really reflect on it I know I have changed. In some ways I feel a lot stronger and I have learned how to cope with things as best I know how.
I have put myself out there and tried just about anything to heal. Individual counselling, group support, online support, reading and writing about grief and losing a child. Creating and tending to Angel's garden.
I am still learning. I accept there is no end line and no closure and not to expect that. I live in that fine balance of joy and sorrow. I grab on to the happy moments in life as hard as I can.
I know that I feel most whole when I can be my complete and authentic self and can speak about my loss and my daughter and feel love and support. I have less time for frivolous relationships that aren't reciprocal. I can say I have no desire to put myself in places that trigger me, like baby showers or kids parties. I am still selfish in that regard, but it is about self preservation for me and why do something that will take me 10 steps back in my journey? It is a sacrifice I don't want to make, at least not right now.
I can say that I feel Angel's presence a lot. Jeff and I have talked about this because we both do. I know her spirit is with me, with us. I don't need to necessarily write it all down here, what I feel and how much I love and miss her...she knows. I know she does.
I know she would say to me "move forward, all will be well." She is my "caim."
I love when people remember Angel with me. Last night I was able to speak freely about her without people cringing. In fact they brought her up without me prompting anything. They talked about my tattoo and my beautiful garden and how they wish this hadn't happened to Jeff and I. They showed true friendship and compassion. It means so very much when I can talk about my daughter and feel normal about it with others. It feels authentic and healing. I feel 100 percent myself and it really is a gift that most people can't give me. Feeling so grateful for it today. The small things make all the difference.
