There are so many lines drawn in baby loss. I'm not even sure who draws them, society, I suppose. I guess that's another reason I write, maybe I'm trying desperately to cross the lines or even do my part in making them disappear.
You lost the baby? Lost it? where did it go? These words always feel strange coming out of my mouth. There is a line that is drawn here based on how far along the mother was. Miscarriage is defined as the natural end of pregnancy before 20 weeks gestation. To me, the natural end of pregnancy would be...um having a baby, you know, the kind that cries, coos, and is alive.
I always find it necessary to correct someone who tells me I've had a miscarriage. It's not because I don't think a miscarriage is painful or tragic but it's because I want others to be educated on the difference. Stillbirth, is what happens when the baby dies after 20 weeks. Here is where things get fuzzy to me. Why is there a line drawn here? I know the medical reason is because if the baby were born at 20 weeks, alive, their chance of survival is, well, not good at all but ask the mother who is holding her 20 week baby for the first and last time where she thinks the line should be drawn. And others find it very necessary to point out that the person they know who has lost a baby was....FULL TERM. My goodness, well, that makes it soooo much harder than a 30 week loss. Right?. Each loss is very painful, no matter the gestational age. Each loss is different and the same in many ways too. We are all still mothers with empty arms when it comes down to it.
Here is another line that confuses me. Why is it okay to talk about your baby's future when they are still in the womb and not okay to acknowledge he would of had a future when he dies. You know what I mean, Everyone wants to play matchmaker. Marry him off to their sister's husband's cousin's little girl. Awe, they could get married. What are you naming him/her?, they will ask you before you have even found out the sex(most of the time before 20 weeks gestation, mind you).
Lets face it, everyone has an opinion when your pregnant. You look small, you look huge, He is going to be such a big boy! They want to know details. Are you sick? Are you wearing maternity clothes? Will you breastfeed?... But sadly, when he is born still, everyone wants to forget he existed. His future is gone so now what? Bury his memory along with him and act like he never happened? No, that's a line I dare to cross and will continue to as long as I live.
The birth story. I was reminded by another baby loss mom how difficult it was to get people to realize that Brody was birthed. Yep, that's right folks, I gave birth. I was in labor, I pushed, I had a baby. I heard everything from "I don't know how you did that" to "How could they make you do that?".
I was so fearful of those moments. At eight weeks, I cried, I was so scared to deliver him. Lets be honest, I'm not great with pain. I just kept reminding myself that millions of other moms did it before me, without medication even...and they survived, so I could too. I had even had day dreams of doing it all naturally. I wish I could be that strong, I thought to myself.
Anyway, back to the line. I stood once, in a circle of women, talking about their birth stories of their children and grandchildren. Stories of pain, stories of complete and utter joy, stories of how their little angels came into this world. No one asked about my story and when I would mention a small detail, no one looked my way. I guess in their eyes, my story put their "horror story" to shame. Maybe to them, birthing MY angel seemed like, not a birth? Maybe their stitches and screaming were somehow overshadowed by the fact that my son never cried or by the fact that when the nurse came in to take him away, she never brought him back. It's not like that for me though. Even though my story is very different, it is still my birth story. My son had a birthday: August 21st 2011
So what makes it acceptable to be able to talk about all your relatives that have passed but unacceptable to talk about your baby that has passed? I have my own opinions on the reason, which I will keep to myself.
I got an email from a woman the other day, requesting that I put her baby's name on shell for the release. Hers and a friend of hers. They were both miscarriages. She then began to tell me how they both had to grieve in silence. I felt sad for her. Why has society made it so that we can announce we are pregnant, throw baby showers, name our babies, talk about their future, but when the baby dies, we have to be very hush hush about it?
I had a family member tell me after Brody died that he was explaining to a coworker what happened to us. He told him there was a death in his family. Whenever he asked further questions, the man responded by saying, Oh, well, it wasn't really a baby yet. Yes, I was tempted to take Brody's picture to him and ask him "If he wasn't a baby, then what exactly, was he?" I didn't, but I wish I had. But, would that be crossing a whole different kind of line?
Oh, on another note, I'm trying very hard to get the spoken word video posted before I leave for Florida. I've only recorded myself half a dozen times so hopefully soon. :)
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
The frog blog...just what I needed
When I've been in a funk and I just can't put my finger on it, I check out the blog and realize it's been entirely too long since I have written and then I'm reminded...I need this blog! I cannot even begin to fathom where I would be without it.
My Gosh, I remember the early days of my head hung low, staring at the computer screen with puffy eyes, frantically searching for someone like me, listening to every baby loss song that ever existed and strangely picking out my "favorite". These nights may or may not have involved wine from Foxburg, cigarettes, and pools of tears. My trips to the bathroom were often taken over by the "stop and stare" at the closed door which would have been Brody's room. Once, I found myself leaning my forehead against the door with my hand beside. I was so afraid to look inside but wanted desperately to go in, sit on the floor and cry all over it. I wanted to look around and re-imagine where everything was gonna go and picture us sitting in the nursing chair. It took months for me to go in the room and now it's where I am the majority of everyday...me and my crochet hook. Those days look so scary now. My grief was so fresh and I was almost numb...almost!
Now, that the numbness has subsided and I literally feel EVERYTHING, this place...the blog, comforts me in so many ways. It almost pulls me in and embraces me. I swear, it does everything but wipe the tears from my face.
I can honestly say, there has not been one moment of regret about the Frog Blog. It has not let me down at all. It has helped me do exactly what I set out to do...which is help other angel mommies feel like they are not alone on their journey. Even in my early grief, I knew the part that bothered me the most, besides the fact that Brody was gone, was that I was not the first or the last person this had happened to. It hurt my heart. I've said it numerous times, I would have given my life if I knew I could have been the last to feel that pain. This pain.
I got a message the other day from another BLM(baby loss mommy) who said this to me...
" I remember what you said about no one can tell me how to grieve and that there isn't a right or wrong way. That has given me the ability to not question myself. I do what feels right and for the first time I don't really worry about what others think of it. I know there is no manual for this. But, I do feel like you prepared me for things that I would have struggled with. For this I'm saying Thank you, yet again!"
You have NO idea what that meant to me. I swear I could feel my heart growing back together. And guess what? I actually get to meet her tomorrow! My first actual meeting with another woman who has suffered the same loss. Believe it or not, I don't actually have any words to explain it. It's more than excitement, Its less than anxious, its more than just the first time we meet each other...I. Just. Have. No. Words. But, with her blessing, I will talk all about it when I can.
I'm also considering doing something pretty cool but I need advice from the Frog Blog readers. http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/2011/10/spoken-word-blog-round-up.html
Here is the link. It is a spoken word blog round up, which means I would pick one post to read in a video and you guys could watch it. I'm just undecided about which one I want to read so, just feel free to email me, msg me, call me....whatever you have to do.
And....Don't forget to watch the other videos because I'm pretty sure if it weren't for those women...you wouldn't be reading this. :)
My Gosh, I remember the early days of my head hung low, staring at the computer screen with puffy eyes, frantically searching for someone like me, listening to every baby loss song that ever existed and strangely picking out my "favorite". These nights may or may not have involved wine from Foxburg, cigarettes, and pools of tears. My trips to the bathroom were often taken over by the "stop and stare" at the closed door which would have been Brody's room. Once, I found myself leaning my forehead against the door with my hand beside. I was so afraid to look inside but wanted desperately to go in, sit on the floor and cry all over it. I wanted to look around and re-imagine where everything was gonna go and picture us sitting in the nursing chair. It took months for me to go in the room and now it's where I am the majority of everyday...me and my crochet hook. Those days look so scary now. My grief was so fresh and I was almost numb...almost!
Now, that the numbness has subsided and I literally feel EVERYTHING, this place...the blog, comforts me in so many ways. It almost pulls me in and embraces me. I swear, it does everything but wipe the tears from my face.
I can honestly say, there has not been one moment of regret about the Frog Blog. It has not let me down at all. It has helped me do exactly what I set out to do...which is help other angel mommies feel like they are not alone on their journey. Even in my early grief, I knew the part that bothered me the most, besides the fact that Brody was gone, was that I was not the first or the last person this had happened to. It hurt my heart. I've said it numerous times, I would have given my life if I knew I could have been the last to feel that pain. This pain.
I got a message the other day from another BLM(baby loss mommy) who said this to me...
" I remember what you said about no one can tell me how to grieve and that there isn't a right or wrong way. That has given me the ability to not question myself. I do what feels right and for the first time I don't really worry about what others think of it. I know there is no manual for this. But, I do feel like you prepared me for things that I would have struggled with. For this I'm saying Thank you, yet again!"
You have NO idea what that meant to me. I swear I could feel my heart growing back together. And guess what? I actually get to meet her tomorrow! My first actual meeting with another woman who has suffered the same loss. Believe it or not, I don't actually have any words to explain it. It's more than excitement, Its less than anxious, its more than just the first time we meet each other...I. Just. Have. No. Words. But, with her blessing, I will talk all about it when I can.
I'm also considering doing something pretty cool but I need advice from the Frog Blog readers. http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/2011/10/spoken-word-blog-round-up.html
Here is the link. It is a spoken word blog round up, which means I would pick one post to read in a video and you guys could watch it. I'm just undecided about which one I want to read so, just feel free to email me, msg me, call me....whatever you have to do.
And....Don't forget to watch the other videos because I'm pretty sure if it weren't for those women...you wouldn't be reading this. :)
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Grief never surprises me
I don't mean to get all sappy on everyone but hey, this blog started as an outlet for my feelings right? Here it goes:
I have sorta been lying about something this whole time. Lying to all of you, lying to my husband and to my friends, and most of all...lying to myself.
I guess lying sounds so harsh, I guess its more like suppressing my feelings...on purpose.
I remember one of the first times someone asked me if we were going to try again, without any hesitation, I answered "yes". It seems like then, all of my fears were pushed aside by the fact that Brody was gone. Now, that the fog has cleared and I can see more clearly, getting pregnant again...scares the living crap out of me.
Simply put, I just don't know if I can do it again.
When someone announces their pregnancy like this "We are having a baby", the first thought in my head is "you don't know that for sure". That sounds horrible doesn't it? I never say it out loud or anything, but the assumption that pregnancy always leads to a baby...a baby that is alive and well never gets past my mind untouched.
I have researched "rainbow babies". Rainbow babies in the baby loss community means a baby after the loss of another baby. The rainbow after the storm so to speak. It happens, I mean, I'm very aware that I'm not the only person to ever have to bury their baby.
I talked to a mother a few months back who was expecting her rainbow baby and she said "If you wait till you aren't scared anymore, you will be waiting forever". I grasp that concept, I fully and completely understand that way of thinking and embrace it....but....I physically cannot put one foot in front of the other in this situation. I'm literally stumbling over the "what ifs" here. In some ways, I feel as if I have forgotten how to walk all together.
On the other hand, I cant imagine living the rest of my life with the only memory of pregnancy being that it ended "the wrong way". Just today, I realized something. I have to "try again"...(I hate those words). I have to make Brody a little brother or sister (there,that's better). If I didn't, I would be letting the fear win, I would be letting the devil win and I'm not about to do that.
We visited Brody's grave this weekend. I was looking around and noticed a pin wheel off of a close by grave had flew off. I knew where it went so I went over to stick it back into the ground. Adam came over to help and I stopped in my tracks. There it was...ONE DATE. I knew what ONLY one date meant because Brody has one date. "It's a baby", I said to Adam. It was the first time that I really, really cried at the cemetery.
I cried a little the day we buried Brody but not very much since then. There I stood at another baby's grave and cried. I cried for the baby, a poor innocent baby below my feet, and I cried for the family who had to suffer this pain...you know, the pain I live with everyday. My pain didn't occur to me while I stood there though, it was sympathy in its truest form. I then decided to walk around see how many other "one dates" there were. I came across two before my morning coffee started to "kick in"...and we left.
Grief never surprises me anymore. Grief made me cry today at the drop of a hat, without warning when discussing how much Brody looked like such mix of Adam and I. Grief kept me calm and relaxed this weekend while picking out the perfect headstone for my baby. Grief presents me with new fears of becoming a mother...again, and it also makes strive to fight those same very fears. Grief made me shed tears for a baby that I never knew or seen and made me smile with pride at the grave of my own son. Grief never surprises me.
I have sorta been lying about something this whole time. Lying to all of you, lying to my husband and to my friends, and most of all...lying to myself.
I guess lying sounds so harsh, I guess its more like suppressing my feelings...on purpose.
I remember one of the first times someone asked me if we were going to try again, without any hesitation, I answered "yes". It seems like then, all of my fears were pushed aside by the fact that Brody was gone. Now, that the fog has cleared and I can see more clearly, getting pregnant again...scares the living crap out of me.
Simply put, I just don't know if I can do it again.
When someone announces their pregnancy like this "We are having a baby", the first thought in my head is "you don't know that for sure". That sounds horrible doesn't it? I never say it out loud or anything, but the assumption that pregnancy always leads to a baby...a baby that is alive and well never gets past my mind untouched.
I have researched "rainbow babies". Rainbow babies in the baby loss community means a baby after the loss of another baby. The rainbow after the storm so to speak. It happens, I mean, I'm very aware that I'm not the only person to ever have to bury their baby.
I talked to a mother a few months back who was expecting her rainbow baby and she said "If you wait till you aren't scared anymore, you will be waiting forever". I grasp that concept, I fully and completely understand that way of thinking and embrace it....but....I physically cannot put one foot in front of the other in this situation. I'm literally stumbling over the "what ifs" here. In some ways, I feel as if I have forgotten how to walk all together.
On the other hand, I cant imagine living the rest of my life with the only memory of pregnancy being that it ended "the wrong way". Just today, I realized something. I have to "try again"...(I hate those words). I have to make Brody a little brother or sister (there,that's better). If I didn't, I would be letting the fear win, I would be letting the devil win and I'm not about to do that.
We visited Brody's grave this weekend. I was looking around and noticed a pin wheel off of a close by grave had flew off. I knew where it went so I went over to stick it back into the ground. Adam came over to help and I stopped in my tracks. There it was...ONE DATE. I knew what ONLY one date meant because Brody has one date. "It's a baby", I said to Adam. It was the first time that I really, really cried at the cemetery.
I cried a little the day we buried Brody but not very much since then. There I stood at another baby's grave and cried. I cried for the baby, a poor innocent baby below my feet, and I cried for the family who had to suffer this pain...you know, the pain I live with everyday. My pain didn't occur to me while I stood there though, it was sympathy in its truest form. I then decided to walk around see how many other "one dates" there were. I came across two before my morning coffee started to "kick in"...and we left.
Grief never surprises me anymore. Grief made me cry today at the drop of a hat, without warning when discussing how much Brody looked like such mix of Adam and I. Grief kept me calm and relaxed this weekend while picking out the perfect headstone for my baby. Grief presents me with new fears of becoming a mother...again, and it also makes strive to fight those same very fears. Grief made me shed tears for a baby that I never knew or seen and made me smile with pride at the grave of my own son. Grief never surprises me.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
The bitterness of the sweet
You know, if you would have told me 7 months ago that I would be smiling real smiles, finding hope through helping others find theirs, and seeing brighter days ahead through lots of stormy clouds...I might have not believed you.
I don't particularly find myself writing more about good days than bad or bad days than good, I just write about what I'm feeling each step of the way even when I'm having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.
Whether a bad day or good, I'm always finding myself on a sort of...tightrope. Like everyday is a balancing act. Maybe it's more like a teeter totter. I'm up, I'm down. If I'm down and really sad, I push up and find myself as equally as high as I was low less than a second ago. Every emotion now, is felt ten fold. All my joys are simply amazing and my pain hurts worse than it ever has before.
I often find myself wondering if you guys (the readers) think that I'm glamorizing my grief. While it's true that I don't find it necessary to discuss my deepest and darkest moments, I promise that I try to be as honest as I can be without scaring you. I talk a lot about hope and finding peace in brighter days ahead but there are days that are really scary too. Just remember, all that glitters in not gold. Even when I'm looking like I'm having the time of my life, inside, I'm secretly I'm asking Brody if it's okay to laugh and smile this hard without him.
It is so hard to explain this, in some ways...I'm happier than I have ever been in my life. I feel like some things are really coming together, the way I had always dreamt of but under circumstances that are an absolute nightmare.
I'm writing again. A passion I have had as long as I can remember. I'm writing something that is available to a whole other world...the Internet. A little scary? Um....yes, but for some reason, now, scary has become something I like to try and overcome.I've found amazing friends that I probably would not have found if my son was alive. That is a bittersweet feeling if I've ever felt one. I'm helping people. I have always loved helping people. Some of my favorite jobs were ones that I was helping others. Essentially, that is why I have a minor in Psychology. I had dreams of helping others who needed help, but just never could pinpoint where my passion was. Lastly, I'm running my own online business. That kinda sounds silly for me to say. B Bands has given me such an opportunity to help others in a way that could not be possible any other way.
I miss him, I miss him all day, everyday. I wonder what he would look like today being the ripe old age of 7 months. I wonder if he would have my green eyes or Adam's bright blue eyes.
I miss you Brody Michael, but I want to thank you for making the best out of this situation that is truly heartbreaking.
I don't particularly find myself writing more about good days than bad or bad days than good, I just write about what I'm feeling each step of the way even when I'm having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.
Whether a bad day or good, I'm always finding myself on a sort of...tightrope. Like everyday is a balancing act. Maybe it's more like a teeter totter. I'm up, I'm down. If I'm down and really sad, I push up and find myself as equally as high as I was low less than a second ago. Every emotion now, is felt ten fold. All my joys are simply amazing and my pain hurts worse than it ever has before.
I often find myself wondering if you guys (the readers) think that I'm glamorizing my grief. While it's true that I don't find it necessary to discuss my deepest and darkest moments, I promise that I try to be as honest as I can be without scaring you. I talk a lot about hope and finding peace in brighter days ahead but there are days that are really scary too. Just remember, all that glitters in not gold. Even when I'm looking like I'm having the time of my life, inside, I'm secretly I'm asking Brody if it's okay to laugh and smile this hard without him.
It is so hard to explain this, in some ways...I'm happier than I have ever been in my life. I feel like some things are really coming together, the way I had always dreamt of but under circumstances that are an absolute nightmare.
I'm writing again. A passion I have had as long as I can remember. I'm writing something that is available to a whole other world...the Internet. A little scary? Um....yes, but for some reason, now, scary has become something I like to try and overcome.I've found amazing friends that I probably would not have found if my son was alive. That is a bittersweet feeling if I've ever felt one. I'm helping people. I have always loved helping people. Some of my favorite jobs were ones that I was helping others. Essentially, that is why I have a minor in Psychology. I had dreams of helping others who needed help, but just never could pinpoint where my passion was. Lastly, I'm running my own online business. That kinda sounds silly for me to say. B Bands has given me such an opportunity to help others in a way that could not be possible any other way.
I miss him, I miss him all day, everyday. I wonder what he would look like today being the ripe old age of 7 months. I wonder if he would have my green eyes or Adam's bright blue eyes.
I miss you Brody Michael, but I want to thank you for making the best out of this situation that is truly heartbreaking.
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| "Your absence has gone through me like a tread through a needle...Everything I do is stitched with it's color" - W.S. Merwin |
Sunday, March 25, 2012
little beach baby
All tucked away in his memory box, neatly placed the same way each time with a seashell on top.
I remember it pretty clearly actually. The nurse walked in and asked if I wanted him to be baptized. Without hesitation, I replied "yes". Randy, my father in law was already holding him and tried to give him back to me. I insisted he held him while being baptized. I wasn't sure why, but I knew it felt right for me. Maybe it was because Brody had an overwhelming resemblance to his Pop or maybe it was the tears in Randy's eyes, or maybe it was because Randy is like a father to me. I'm not sure but it just felt right.
He was baptized with a seashell. I never asked why, I never wondered, I just watched as the water dripped from the shell to his forehead that I had just kissed ever so gently.
I had so many dreams of Brody being my little beach baby and loving the ocean just as much as his mommy and there he was being baptized with a seashell.
When Adam and I were in Siesta Key Florida in October, I picked up each shell with a different kind of enthusiasm for shells. Each one reminded me of Brody and I had actually never felt closer to him in those days spent in Florida.
Well, we are returning to Florida next month. I'm anxious to feel the closeness but kinda scared at the same time. What if its not the same, what if its like Christmas and lacks the spirit I worked so hard on finding.
I am going to be writing the names of the angels lost to miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss on seashells with non toxic, waterproof markers and sending them into the ocean. Of course this release has a special meaning to me because of the shell used to baptize my little angel.
Same sort of "rules" or I guess, "anti rules" apply here. I will send a sea shell for your angel no matter the gestational age, no matter the circumstances lost, and no matter if I have never met you in my life or if you are my best friend.
Please send your baby names to tiagiardino@yahoo.com, contact me on facebook, or txt me if you know me and I will be happy to include your precious angel along with Brody. I hope to get a ton of great pictures of the release and have a special post just as I did before.
Thank you in advance with trusting me to honor and remember you babies along with my little beach baby.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The "go to" girl
7 months today. I'm 7 months into being "that girl who's baby died". Does it make me some kind of expert on death or just death of babies? In some ways I would agree that it does and in other ways, I'm still learning every single day.
In the last few months, I have noticed a lot of people asking me for advice. "My friend lost her baby, what should I say?", My niece lost her baby, what can I do for her?", "I delivered my baby stillborn, where do I go from here?". I've become the "go to" girl for baby loss and I have to say, nothing makes my heart heal quite like being able to help someone else.
I remember slightly typing up an early blog post that read "I don't know if there is a silver lining to a dead baby". I will still agree that there is not a silver lining, but there is something very reassuring deep inside of me that says "This is where you belong and you are going in all the right directions". Call it what you will, I call it "God".
The biggest thing I've noticed about my grief is that it is always changing. One day, I can look it directly in the eyes and tell it "get out of my way, I have things to do today", and other days It takes a hold of me, throws me down and leaves me shuddering in the corner. It does not care what day it is, if I have something planned or somewhere to be. It doesn't care if the sun is shining and it is a beautiful day, a pillow covered in tears is what it wants... right then, right now. I've always hated surprises and I hate that one the most.
I have made it a point to tell the people who ask for my advice that no matter what anyone says, there are no rules in this journey...none. You do what you want and when you want. There is no timeline because time means nothing anymore. One day, you can feel strong and ready to face the world and the next you get thrown back to the day you buried your baby...tears wont stop....nothing helps....words are words and you don't want to hear them anyway.
For me, in this stage that I'm in now, I dislike different things than I did when I first starting writing The frog blog. Now, I dread "the pity face". You know, they tilt their head a little to the right, place their hand somewhere "comforting" and say "I'm so sorry". I'm grateful for their concern but it gets really exhausting. Let me make this clear, just because I don't want the puppy dog face, does not mean I don't want you to be sensitive to the fact that less than a year ago I buried my first born child. He was not a figment of my imagination, he was not a embryo, he can not be replaced by another baby ( mine or anyone else's). He was a baby...my baby.
Anyone else's meaning when I'm holding or looking at a baby, I'm not thinking of taking off running with it tucked in my shirt and heading to a different state and dying my hair black and renaming the baby Brody. One, I'm not crazy, two, I know very well that the only baby I want right now is mine and it is humanly impossible to get him back. Yes, I get a little sad when I see a baby and I become impossibly aware that mine is dead, but I'm impossibly aware of that all day, everyday....no smiling, adorable little baby is going to make my day worse, I promise.
I know it is hard to spell out and draw a map for this experience but I think that is why I continue to write this blog. For me and for other grieving angel mommies. It's hard to look someone in the face and tell them how you feel and how you want to be treated. I know because, I still cannot do it. I can type and write until I'm blue in the face but to look at someone and tell them to stop tiptoeing around Brody and to just say his name is something I could just never do. I want to talk about him, I would talk about him all day everyday if I could and I probably do sometimes.
There are people who" just get it" and it always amazes me. I don't expect everyone to get it, actually I don't expect anything from anyone but let me tell you that it makes me appreciate the people who do a lot. For those of you who are curious as to how to act around me and other grieving mothers perhaps, Here is a little example of what I mean:
One night, Adam and I were out by ourselves. We were surrounding by mostly Adam's guy friends. I was feeling very alone and realized the reason was because no one there was comfortable talking about Brody. I don't want to just talk about him but a lot of my life revolves around Brody. He is my inspiration for B Bands and inspiration for my coming years. I want to be able to mention his name without getting looked at like I had just picked my nose and ate it for goodness sakes. I txt a friend and said " No one wants to talk about Brody :(", Her reply was " I will talk about him, I love that little shit". That's exactly what I needed, he was no longer the pink elephant in the room, he wasn't a distant memory, he was my son.
7 months today. Angelversaries aren't always bad. Today, I'm remembering, I'm saying his name out loud, and I'm smiling for the fact that I was totally blessed with an amazing little angel!
In the last few months, I have noticed a lot of people asking me for advice. "My friend lost her baby, what should I say?", My niece lost her baby, what can I do for her?", "I delivered my baby stillborn, where do I go from here?". I've become the "go to" girl for baby loss and I have to say, nothing makes my heart heal quite like being able to help someone else.
I remember slightly typing up an early blog post that read "I don't know if there is a silver lining to a dead baby". I will still agree that there is not a silver lining, but there is something very reassuring deep inside of me that says "This is where you belong and you are going in all the right directions". Call it what you will, I call it "God".
The biggest thing I've noticed about my grief is that it is always changing. One day, I can look it directly in the eyes and tell it "get out of my way, I have things to do today", and other days It takes a hold of me, throws me down and leaves me shuddering in the corner. It does not care what day it is, if I have something planned or somewhere to be. It doesn't care if the sun is shining and it is a beautiful day, a pillow covered in tears is what it wants... right then, right now. I've always hated surprises and I hate that one the most.
I have made it a point to tell the people who ask for my advice that no matter what anyone says, there are no rules in this journey...none. You do what you want and when you want. There is no timeline because time means nothing anymore. One day, you can feel strong and ready to face the world and the next you get thrown back to the day you buried your baby...tears wont stop....nothing helps....words are words and you don't want to hear them anyway.
For me, in this stage that I'm in now, I dislike different things than I did when I first starting writing The frog blog. Now, I dread "the pity face". You know, they tilt their head a little to the right, place their hand somewhere "comforting" and say "I'm so sorry". I'm grateful for their concern but it gets really exhausting. Let me make this clear, just because I don't want the puppy dog face, does not mean I don't want you to be sensitive to the fact that less than a year ago I buried my first born child. He was not a figment of my imagination, he was not a embryo, he can not be replaced by another baby ( mine or anyone else's). He was a baby...my baby.
Anyone else's meaning when I'm holding or looking at a baby, I'm not thinking of taking off running with it tucked in my shirt and heading to a different state and dying my hair black and renaming the baby Brody. One, I'm not crazy, two, I know very well that the only baby I want right now is mine and it is humanly impossible to get him back. Yes, I get a little sad when I see a baby and I become impossibly aware that mine is dead, but I'm impossibly aware of that all day, everyday....no smiling, adorable little baby is going to make my day worse, I promise.
I know it is hard to spell out and draw a map for this experience but I think that is why I continue to write this blog. For me and for other grieving angel mommies. It's hard to look someone in the face and tell them how you feel and how you want to be treated. I know because, I still cannot do it. I can type and write until I'm blue in the face but to look at someone and tell them to stop tiptoeing around Brody and to just say his name is something I could just never do. I want to talk about him, I would talk about him all day everyday if I could and I probably do sometimes.
There are people who" just get it" and it always amazes me. I don't expect everyone to get it, actually I don't expect anything from anyone but let me tell you that it makes me appreciate the people who do a lot. For those of you who are curious as to how to act around me and other grieving mothers perhaps, Here is a little example of what I mean:
One night, Adam and I were out by ourselves. We were surrounding by mostly Adam's guy friends. I was feeling very alone and realized the reason was because no one there was comfortable talking about Brody. I don't want to just talk about him but a lot of my life revolves around Brody. He is my inspiration for B Bands and inspiration for my coming years. I want to be able to mention his name without getting looked at like I had just picked my nose and ate it for goodness sakes. I txt a friend and said " No one wants to talk about Brody :(", Her reply was " I will talk about him, I love that little shit". That's exactly what I needed, he was no longer the pink elephant in the room, he wasn't a distant memory, he was my son.
7 months today. Angelversaries aren't always bad. Today, I'm remembering, I'm saying his name out loud, and I'm smiling for the fact that I was totally blessed with an amazing little angel!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
my angel in the clouds
It's okay if others think he wasn't real, because to me he is the realest thing in my life. He was almost 3 pounds and 15 inches long. I held him, I kissed his little forehead and I held him tight. To me, he was real. Actually, he is still real to me. He exists all over. He is such a huge part of my everyday now. Maybe not in the same way he would have been if he was alive but in a much bigger and deeper way. He now exists in my heart ... and in the clouds.
I took this picture yesterday outside of my house. I walked outside and stopped in my tracks. I touched Adam's arm and said "look, it's an angel". I smiled so big and pulled out my phone to take the picture. I couldn't stop smiling.
I know not everyone can understand and I know not everyone agrees that there is an angel in this picture, and that is okay with me. I know the only way everyone could understand is if they went through this themselves and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.
I know not everyone can understand and I know not everyone agrees that there is an angel in this picture, and that is okay with me. I know the only way everyone could understand is if they went through this themselves and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.
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