Losing an unborn child

Often times when someone dies everyone sits around and remembers the good times you had with that person, and often remembers them when you see their favorite food or tv show.  When you lose a baby, while still pregnant, you don’t have any of those things to remember.  No one has anything to say about your baby because no one, not even yourself, has ever met that baby.  There are no fun memories for most people regarding Isaac. 

For Tom and I there’s the memory of finding out we were having another baby.  It was February 13^th of last year.  I thought for a moment I could keep the secret from him until the next morning, but quickly knew I was way too excited to keep it in.  He read the card and literally jumped up and down he was so excited.  The next morning we called and told all of our parents that there were be four Valentine’s in our family the next year.  It didn’t quite work out like that for us.

Also, when you lose a baby people assume that because we never met him that the loss isn’t as hard.  In reality, it’s the exact opposite.  I long to know what he would have looked like, had he been born alive and thriving.  I wish I could have seen his eyes open.  I long to know what his giggle sounded like.  I long to see him interact with his older brother.  I long to see how our day to day life would have been different had he been here.  I wish I got to hear his first word, and know what his favorite baby food was.  I am not only mourning that little boy, but all of the moments that were taken from me as well. 

Most people don’t talk about Isaac as they are afraid of upsetting me.  And if they bring him up I might tear up or get sad.  Please, please bring him up anyway.  Otherwise, I’m stuck in a lonely place feeling like he didn’t matter to anyone else…and that’s a horrible place to be.

Grieving a child you never met is a completely different kind of grief.  There’s no handbook or timeline on how to deal and cope.  So, if you know someone that is dealing with this – just be there.  Be there when they want to talk, be there when they don’t know what they want.  Cry with them.  Laugh with them.  Remind them how much you also loved their little one.  Say their child’s name.  It will hurt, but at least they’ll know they’re not alone. 

Next Step

This week was a rough one as we conquered a new step in the grieving process.  We gathered up all of our courage and visited the cemetery Monday night for the first time since Isaac’s funeral.  Tom has wanted to go for quite a while, but I wasn’t ready.  After finally being honest with myself I realized I was never going to be fully ready to go back, but I needed to be there for Tom. 

The tears started flowing as soon as I turned into the cemetery.  My immediate thought was to figure out a reason we needed to leave so I didn’t have to go.  But, I went.  We pulled up to Isaac’s spot, and I’m not going to lie – it was hard.  Every detail from the day of his funeral came rushing back - details I had pushed as far back in my mind as possible. 

But, there was also another feeling – I felt closer to him than I had in months.  I don’t even really have words to describe it, but after the initial hard few minutes it wasn’t so bad.  We even smiled at one point thinking about him. 

After getting home that evening I was alone for a few hours and just sat and thought about him, and how far we’ve all come in the past four and a half months.  I seriously wouldn’t wish this feeling or circumstance on anyone, but looking back I can see how far we’ve come.  And that’s what I’m choosing to focus on today.  

I Peter 5:7 - Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

Grief is a crazy ride...

I posted on Facebook and Instagram this week about how dealing with grief is like a ride, and you never know what will trigger the downward spiral. 

Last night Thomas was having a rough night and finally asked to sit on my lap before going to sleep.  I scooped him up and started humming the song I’ve hummed to him since the day he was born.  I felt his body calm down and knew we might finally get him to calm down enough to go to sleep.  I couldn’t get comfortable because he’s so long while holding him and sitting on his bed so I stood up and held him like I did a few years ago when he was a newborn.  While humming my mind thought about how he was getting way too big for this, and then the next thought was “I should be holding your brother like this” – which of course sent me over the edge….again.  I kept myself together until I got him tucked back in, but once I left his room I collapsed into Tom and lost it as he held me. 

Triggers come from nowhere and everywhere.  Sometimes they trigger a memory, a sadness, a longing or pain.  It’s always unexpected (like above), and it’s always different.  It has been anything from seeing a pregnant woman, seeing a woman carry a baby, walking passed the baby section at Target, seeing pictures of your friend’s newborn on Facebook, thinking about how we haven't visited his grave since his funeral in September, or just getting lost in my own mind. 

Those are the moments that I never see coming.  Those are the moments I miss Isaac the most.  When it becomes so overwhelmingly obvious that he is missing from our everyday moments. 

When I write that I take things one day at a time – that’s exactly what I’m doing.   It’s a choice I have to make every single day to keep going.  This grief thing is a crazy ride that I would love to jump off of, but it doesn’t work like that.  Instead, I just hold on with everything I’ve got and wait for the ride to momentarily stop…until the next ride begins.

Dear Isaac,

Wednesday night I had a really rough night of being angry you were gone, missing you, and dreaming about our future without you.  Are we really ready to think about having another baby?  Will it bring back all of the memories of losing you?  Would I spend the whole nine months deathly afraid it could happen again?  Could we lose the next baby as well?  I honestly don’t think my heart could handle that again.  But, I also know that I have to have faith in God, and in my body that it won’t happen again. 

Oh Isaac – how will our hearts ever grow big enough to love another as much as we loved you?  I know deep down that it’s possible because we weren’t even sure our hearts would grow big enough to love you after we had Thomas, but they did. 

A huge part of our hearts long to hold and cuddle a baby, and for Thomas to finally be able to be the big brother he wants to be.  But, I also want it to be you that we’re holding.  I feel like you took all I had left with you, and what if what I have left won’t be enough for someone else?

My love for you and Thomas split my heart open the moment I knew about both of you, and has changed me forever.  My love for you is in every breath I take, every smile, every tear that slides down my face, and with every thought I have.  I hide my true feelings at times because I’m afraid I would appear too broken and fragile.  The last thing I want is for the awkward pause when people give me “that look” that makes me feel like it would have been better to keep it all in. 

I remember after finding out I was pregnant with you that I promised you that I’d love you forever, and I will.  That promise will never go away.  But, now I have to make you some new promises.  I promise to never give up.  I promise to believe our family can grow even bigger.  I promise to trust that you are watching out for us.  I promise to always love your dad.  I promise to trust that my love is enough for another baby.  I promise that your brother and possible future sibling(s) will know about you, and how important you are to us.  I promise that you will never be forgotten.

Mom

Facebook

If I’ve learned anything over the past three months, it’s that Facebook is a minefield for me.  I’ll just be scrolling along just checking out what’s going on in the lives of friends or acquaintances, and then the next thing I know I’m a sobbing ball of emotions before I even understand what just happened. 

For instance, last night I was checking Facebook before I went to sleep, like I do almost every night.  I was completely fine until I saw that one of my friends little girl had a birthday, which then made me realize it was the 8^th…which made me realize it had now been exactly three months since I lost Isaac…which led me to count the weeks that he’s been gone….13. 

That is the moment when I completely broke down and became a ball of uncontrollable emotions, and it wasn’t pretty.  I finally realized I wasn’t recovering from this sudden outburst so I asked Tom to come lay with me, and hold me.  While lying there I told him quite frankly, and probably louder than necessary “This isn’t fair!”  I was acting just like a toddler throwing a tantrum when they don’t get their way, and I couldn’t help it or stop it.  I had gone from sad to angry, angry to feeling empty, feeling empty to helpless, helpless to sad, and eventually from sadness to acceptance.  Tom has a way of helping me see things from a different perspective, and calming me down like no one else, and I am so thankful for that.  

While drifting to sleep, after I had gained some composure, I started wondering if Facebook was a minefield for other people as well.  What about the single person that constantly sees pictures of happy couples?  Or, people like me, who now see pictures of newborns and pregnancy announcements and makes me long for my baby?  Or what about the person who just lost someone or an animal close to them, and then sees pictures of others being happy with their people and animals?  What about the people that always seem to have their lives together, are always happy, and seem to have the perfect lives?  Do any of these instantly turn you into a jealous, angry ball of emotions as well?   Oh, just me?

Before losing Isaac I never considered how other people viewed my life based on random posts and square pictures online.  If I looked at my profile, I would think I have my life put together and have the perfect child, and was always happy, but is that really how my life is?  Absolutely not.  It seems I’ve fallen into the trap of only showing what I want others to see…which isn’t how life is.  Not even close.  If I’m being honest, like most of us, we only post the good, and I refuse to do that anymore, because our lives are filled with the good, the bad, and the ugly.  The last thing I want is for other people to think I have this life thing all figured out and am in control of my emotions and feelings all the time.  That’s definitely not true.  Case in point - see above when I acted like a toddler throwing a fit. 

Going forward, I’m going to challenge myself to post on Facebook with whatever I’m feeling, whether I’m angry, sad, depressed, happy, excited, and every emotion in between…and be my true self.   If you’re on my friends list I trust you enough to be vulnerable with who I really am.  And I will continue to look at your lives through posts and do my best not to be jealous of you because I’m sure your life is just as flawed as mine…even if we don’t always show it.  

The Holidays...

I made it through Thanksgiving, barely.  We visited Tom’s brother Richard and his wife Becky and their daughter Lana last weekend for Thanksgiving.  I think that distraction helped me through the day.  Thanksgiving is normally my favorite holiday as you mainly spend time with friends and family and focus on family instead of the expectations of gifts that comes with Christmas. 

Usually one of my favorite things to do on Thanksgiving is to go around the room and have everyone say something they are thankful for.  Well, I definitely wasn’t going to suggest we do that this year.  Don’t get me wrong – I have a lot of things to be thankful for – I just wasn’t in that frame of mind this time. 

However, we all were asked to write down on paper what we were thankful for this year instead.  I could totally do that!  This way it was one of my favorite things, but it was more private.  Well, that night we all sat around the fire pit and one by one everyone started reading their lists and when they were done they threw it in the fire.  I quickly made myself busy taking care of Thomas, as he wasn’t interested in sitting and listening anyway. 

Well, I got back up to the fire just in time for everyone to be done.  It was pointed out by our niece (who is 8 and doesn’t know what happened) that I hadn’t gone yet and I instantly started crying.  I couldn’t do it.  It was too soon.  See, I listed Isaac as something I was thankful for.  How could I not?  He is also my child.  I just wasn’t ready to share that and say his name in front of everyone.  I knew I would break down as I cried when I wrote his name on my list. 

I’m thankful for the time I did have him.  I’m thankful he showed me how much more love I am capable of.  I’m thankful that Tom and I became closer and planned for our future with him in it.  I’m thankful for the love he brought to our family.  I just couldn’t put that in to words that night.  They all told me they understood and definitely didn’t pressure me to take a turn.  So yes, I made it through the first family focused holiday without my boy…and I will make it through the rest of them…one at a time. 

Also, last Saturday morning Thomas told me that he loves Isaac in my tummy.  It breaks my heart that he doesn’t understand…but how could he?  So I told him that Isaac is in heaven with Jesus and he said “oh, okay” and moved on like it was nothing.  I know he loves his brother and someday he will understand, but it’s so tough knowing he still expects to meet his brother.

With Christmas coming I have very mixed emotions.  This is the first year that Thomas is going to be extremely excited to open presents and experience all the joys of Christmas.  Seeing that joy on his face will help me more than he’ll ever know.  I’m trying to be happy as I buy him gifts that I know he’ll love, but part of me is also sad because I don’t have another son to buy for like I was supposed to. 

Tom and I also decided that sending Christmas cards isn’t going to happen this year.  I don’t even know how to explain it, but it’s just too hard right now.  So please don’t be offended if you don’t get one.  We usually send out over 100, but I don’t know how to do it this year.  Do I send them out and just not acknowledge Isaac like he didn’t exist?  Do I send them out and put some kind of note about our boy that we lost?  But, then, if I do that, our card is a “downer” during the holidays and I don’t want that either.  So, for us, this year we’re not sending them.  It’s just easier on my emotions that way.  And, at this point I have to do what’s best for me and my family and do what helps us heal and continue to move on. 

Moving on doesn’t mean you forget about things or people.  It just means you have to accept what happened and continue living.  So that’s what we’re doing.  Step by step and day by day through these first holidays…and I’m sure at some points…even minute by minute….but we’re not giving up.  

Grieving Dads

Grieving your child can be overwhelming for the mom and the dad.  Yet, I’ve found that there aren’t many outlets or support groups for grieving dads, and their grief often goes unnoticed.  We expect the men in our lives to always be strong and supportive of the moms, but that’s not fair because he lost his child too.  He should be afforded the same support and outlets that the mom has been given. 

Watching Tom go through this whole process has been hard for me because I know he’s hurting too.  He doesn’t talk about it with many people because they are mainly concerned with how I am that he holds his pain in, and that’s not how it should be.  Reach out to the hurting dads too and let them know they are often thought about and cared for as well.  It won’t take his pain away, but it might help him knowing that it’s okay to not always be the strong one and to know that he’s loved too. 

So to any grieving dads - I’m sorry.  I’m sorry you have had to go through this too, and I’m sorry that your feelings have been overlooked by many.  Looking back, I’m guilty of only reaching out to the moms I know that have had losses without a thought about the dad.  Going forward I promise to also reach out and think about you too.  I’ll send you cards, texts and call you just to check in.  Dealing with grief isn’t easy and you shouldn’t be expected to hold yours in or deal with it alone.