Bittersweet

The last time we went to Stony Brooke State Park was July 4th. I was 14 wks pregnant and happy. We had so much fun that day, and then we found out 3 days later that Robert had passed away and we were no longer pregnant.

Today we returned to Stony Brooke and it was bittersweet for me. This time I was able to slide down the slides, but I remember sitting there and having to wear my maternity swim suit. Would I give up the time with my family today, no. But there are times I wish I could go back to feeling how I did that last time.

Today was bittersweet and times like this will pop up now and then and remind me of where I had been. Two pregnancy losses in one year have been hard, and I sometimes it hits me that I should be 24 or 32 weeks pregnant (depending on which pregnancy you go by). And at those moments I just want to cry.

I wonder how I will feel as the due dates approach, never before have I had a due date approach and not been in my third trimester of another pregnancy.

Getting by with a little help from my friends

There are times you realize that your friends may not know how to be there the way you need them to be. That is when you often times either are left struggling on your own, or maybe if you are lucky someone throws you a life line.

For me that life line came in the form of a support group of women who have been there and understood what I was going through. I could cry and know that they understood the reason for my tears. We could talk about things that we all had in common, the loss of our children. And I was able to connect with an old friend who had thrown me this life line.

I am not sure I would have thought before this about going to a support group, or that it would help, or even that I would have so much fun. But maybe it was that this was not like a meeting, it was more like a bunch of friends getting together for coffee. We sat in Panera Bread and just talked, though next time I will remember to bring more Kleenex's. The common theme was the loss of our children, whether it was at 15 wks, 25 wks or 42 wks. And it did not matter if the loss was 7 wks ago, 6 months ago, or 4 yrs ago, each of us was still missing our child and each had tears at various times.

An evening spent with these women and I had a better handle on how I was feeling and knew that it was ok to be sad or to cry, that the timeline for how I was feeling would not be linear or go on the same pattern as someone else's. It has given me something to look forward to and common ground with others. Look forward to coffee and talks, to having fun at the spa, and just investing in each others lives. I hope that as we get to know each other close relationships will form with this core group of women and that we will be there for each other in the future.

Is there a lifeline you can throw to someone? Maybe it is as simple as inviting them to coffee or to a Bible study.

Is there someone you can reach out to?

Sitting at church today, in the very back of the sanctuary, where no one can see me or talk to me, I look around at the other's in the sanctuary and wonder who else is hurting? What are their secret pains that they do not speak about?

Before loosing Robert, I never really thought much about miscarriage and less about what other's might be going through in regards to fertility and loss. But now I see it much more. What woman in church is hurting because she cannot have a child? What woman has lost a baby and never spoken about it? What other hurts might there be?

As I sat there, wondering who else was crying on the inside while appearing to be okay, I wonder how we can reach out more to these women. Whether it is the loss of a child, the loss of the dream of having a child, the loss of a potential adoption, the loss of the innocence of a uncomplicated pregnancy (and the list can go on and on), what support is there for them?

I know in my area that there is a support group in the city that meets once a month, but that is a bit of a drive. There are also online supports, but sometimes you need that face to face contact and to know you are not the only one in your circle of relationships to be going through the loss (whatever it may be).

Is there something more that our churches and communities could be doing? Is there a way to reach out and touch those who hurt in silence? What can you do to reach out? Is there someone you know who could use a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, or just to be told that they are not alone?

Speaking Out

One of the hardest things to do is speak out when things don't go as you think they should. You are afraid that your opinion won't matter or that you are overreacting. But sometimes speaking out about your experience will change things.

After loosing Robert, all I could think was no one understood what I was going through (of course others had been down this road, but I did not know who). I ended up trying to Google support groups in the area (NOT a fun think to Google) and did not really get anywhere. So I called my OB's office who referred me to a contact they had at the hospital.

Voice wavering, I called and asked about support groups. The woman I spoke with was so kind and offered to send me the loss packets they had, as well as support info. Wishing I had had all that info after leaving the hospital, I agreed and thanked her. When I did receive the information, she had included her card, as well as the card of a woman who is the Nurse Manager of the high risk maternity floor. Thinking I would never have a reason to speak to either, I set the cards in the memory box I had made and read through all the material, including on when and where a support group meets.

But in that reading I found that the hospital offers Baptism Certificates and I wanted one, so I dug out the card of the woman in charge of the high risk floor and emailed her. Instead of just emailing, me she called and we spoke on my experience on the surgery floor (it was a same day) and she said that she would like to forward my concerns and suggestions to the nurse manager of that floor. Of course I said yes, what else could I say.

I never thought that my comments would be taken seriously, that anyone would really listen, since what I thought must have been voiced before. But to my surprise I received a email from the surgery floors nurse manager wanting to talk about my experience and suggestions to help make the process easier on other loss mamma's.

That all said, what does it mean. It means that your voice matters and maybe someone else has thought the same thing you did, but never spoke out. Maybe your voice is the one that tips the scales into a policy being changed. Maybe you make something better or easier for someone who has to walk the same road as you.

Loss

Everyone goes through a loss of some kind in their life. Some people it may just be a loss of a job, others it is a friend or family member. For me it is the loss of dreams and hopes, the loss of a future yet to be, a loss of what could be.

On July 7, 2011, our world fell apart when we heard those words that no soon to be parents want to hear, "there is no heartbeat". The next day I had a D&E. 3 weeks later we found out that the baby was a boy. I had been calling him Bubsy since early on in the pregnancy, but we officially named him Robert Alexander.

I don't think anyone can really understand this loss unless they have walked this road. Some people respond by ignoring it, others say things that might sound helpful but are rather hurtful- "at least you can get pregnant" or "you still have 3 healthy children" or "something must have been wrong with him".

In reality what most women going through this need a simple "I am sorry" or to be asked if they would like to talk. I know that for me (and other women have told me this as well) that the opportunity to talk about my child is one of the best things you can give me. No, I cannot tell you if he rolled over, or that he might be teething. But I can say his name, say I miss him, and just have someone else recognize his life, brief as it was.

So where do I go from here? It has been 5 wks and I am healing and moving on. I started a shop to sell memory boxes. I never have painted before doing this, but when I wanted something to put all of Robert's things into, I could not find anything I liked. So my first box was created and now I find I love doing it.

I spend time with my family and realize that I am lucky to have them. I am trying to get back into quilting baby quilts and also will be trying to get more involved with Little Mended Hearts (my daughter has congenital heart disease).

And hopefully we will have a healthy pregnancy and our "take home" baby some day.