When October crept in… I was filled with desires to take
part in so many projects, and events that were taking place all over the
web. But after being totally caught off
guard in the first 3 or 4 days and finding myself in a deeper
depression than I anticipated, I stopped dead in my tracks. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of not
being able to do anything “right”. I
didn’t feel at all prepared, or inspired by myself. I wanted to do so much, but I didn’t know how
to jump in. I saw Carly’s Capture your
Grief project pop up on my reader, as BLM’s I follow were participating this
year. I felt so behind, and having
already missed the sunrise on October 1st (and having several days
of overcast skies following), I felt I missed my chance. I know there were no rules, and any which way
one wanted to go about participating would be absolutely fine – but I felt like
I couldn’t even be a good BLM after all is said and done.
This weekend, I talked to Daniel about what to do on October
15th. I told him I wanted to
email everyone we knew… and ask them to light a candle. Not only for us, but for ALL the children
gone too soon and for the families that miss them every day. I talked to him about how lonely and isolated
I feel, and it’s becoming somewhat my fault because I keep myself so far
removed from everyone else’s life. I
talked to him about how I didn’t, and don’t feel any support from his extended
family. (He has 30 cousins, and just as
many aunts and uncles living within a 1 hour radius… and the most
we got were a few phone calls the week after we lost our son). I told him how I felt his family didn’t know
how to deal with tragedy, and in typical Italian fashion – you go to church,
pray for who you love, and then mind your own business but talk about it all
behind closed doors. I’m sure our loss
went through so many circles of inner family gossip, and it all doesn’t even
compare to the lack there of that actually made its way to our reality.
I thought maybe I sort of caused this. Initially I tried to not have anyone outside of a few very close family members find out about
our loss, as I felt so embarrassed, and heartbroken – and I only expected
everyone to down play our loss – so I didn’t invite any sort of support to our
door.
Everyone was having children left and right. As often as someone would sneeze, anew pregnancy
was announced and without fail – a new baby would arrive in 9 months. One of Daniel’s cousins had a baby girl on
February 15, 2012… another cousin had delivered her first in late October
2011. His sister was due with her third in
June of 2012…and here we were, announcing our son was stillborn. Because I wasn’t able to carry on as everyone
so easily did with their new babies, and have everyone pour over our new
arrival on FB… I felt no one would validate me as a mother. No one would see Alexander as a part of our
family forever. I hid away for months,
and had Daniel do all the talking. Any
time a phone call would come in… I’d get cross with Daniel, and say, “stop
telling everyone I’m ok!”
But that’s what
they did in his family. Bad things
happen. People call and ask if you’re
OK. And you say you are. End of story.
Didn’t seem as if anyone was willing to venture deeper into what this
loss actually meant in our lives.
Looking back, I thought, maybe I didn’t give anyone a
chance. Maybe they were too ill equipped
to deal with such a monumental loss in someone’s life. Maybe it’s time I tell them, and invite them
in, and let them know it’s OK to say sorry, and to let us know they are thinking of us.
And ask them, to please think of our son.
After procrastinating the entire Saturday away, last night I
decided the time was now or never.
So I wrote this…
Dear Family and
Friends,
Please bear with me
as I stumble through this email. This isn’t easy for me to talk about, and
address large groups while doing so.
October is
Pregnancy and Infant loss awareness month. I will be the first to admit, had I
not had a baby, or lost a baby, I probably would not know this fact. It was
sometime in the late 1980’s that October was declared pregnancy and infant loss
awareness month to honor this very sad and tragic subject matter. Many
countries around the world, England and Australia to name a few, have since
taken this month under their wing as well.
Lots of rituals and
ceremonies around the world take place for grieving families to take part in,
to give them the space and support to honor their children. October 15thspecifically
is the day when most ceremonies take place. Families release balloons,
butterflies, lanterns or just gather to light a candle and say a prayer. And
you don’t have to venture far on the world wide web to catch a glimpse of said
ceremonies.
Daniel and I are
still “new” at this. It has been 7 and a half months since we had to say good
bye to our first born son after a horrible twist at the end of my pregnancy
lead him to his demise while I was 41 weeks pregnant. We still miss him. We are
quite certain that no matter how many months, years, or decades go by…the
missing will still be there. It gets softer, yes. It becomes more bearable to
take part in everyday activities and celebrations, yes. But he will always be
the missing part of our family.
I have met hundreds
of women and families as I’ve made my way through this post loss journey. There
are literally THOUSANDS of people who have had stillborn babies that are
somehow plugging along, doing “life” as best they can. These people are not
from your grandmother’s generation. These people didn’t lose their babies
because they were denied proper health care or come from third world countries.
These people didn’t smoke, or drink, or practice any type of risky lifestyle.
These are just normal people, in real time, who lost their children for the
same reason I did. And no matter how you look at it, it’s no good reason at
all.
I don’t think the
average person thinks about how many people actually lose children. I for sure
didn’t! I knew that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage…. But I did not know
that 1 in 150 pregnancies end in stillbirth or neonatal death. That seems like
a small percentage. It’s less than 1%! Most people will go unscathed by those
odds. But… imagine how any people you pass in your day. At the bank, in the
grocery store, driving to work, walking to school. It’s possible that at least
one person you’ve brushed shoulders with on a weekly basis has lost a child.
Nearly every day, dozens of people brush shoulders with me…
It’s a taboo
subject. It’s unheard of in this day in age. People don’t talk about it… but
let me tell you when it happens to you (and I truly hope it does NOT ever) the
stories come out of the wood work. It still happens. Just because the
statistics have gone down significantly in the past century and you only ever
hear about it in movie plot lines, and from your brother’s co-workers friends
grandmother and it almost seems too unreal to be true…the pain is still real.
The unimaginable life that has to be lived after your child dies is still
someone’s reality. EVERY DAY. And I wish with my all my wishes that when it
does happen, they do not feel as if they’re alone.
Women and families
that experience stillbirths or neonatal deaths do go on to have more children.
But the ones we have lost do not in some way disappear. They do not vanish from
our heart space, or fall off our motherly radar. We need them, miss them, and
want to mother/parent them as much as any child we will ever bring into this
world.
On this October 15th,
mothers and families around the world come together in a special way to honor
their lost children. They will light candles and say prayers. We release love
and light up into the heavens. We say their names, and think of all the
families whose hearts have now been constructed to love a child that they
cannot hold.
Many ask for their
friends and family to participate in this celebration of remembrance to
strengthen the “Wave of Light” around the world for the lost children. And that
is why you are finding my email in your inbox tonight.
Tomorrow is October
15th. And at 7pm, families around the world will be lighting a
candle for their children, gone too soon. I ask that you not only think of our
son, but all the babies gone too soon. And send healing prayers, and love to
all the families suffering this unthinkable loss.
I cannot send you
updates of my 7 and a half month old son…I cannot tell you how he is standing
or babbling all day long… I cannot tell you that he is sleeping through the
night, or keeping us up and that’s why the bags under our eyes are so heavy
these days. I cannot parent him as my heart begs to do so every minute of every
day. But I can ask you to remember him.
If possible, any
time tomorrow, please light a candle for our son, Alexander David. And remember
that he was here, born into this world on February 27th, 2012… and
he will always be our first born beloved son.
And to ask for a
step further… for my own contribution to spread the “wave of light” around the
world… I ask that you take a picture (cell phone camera, pocket cam... anything
or any quality) of your candle with a simple message across the bottom –
whether it be photo shopped on or actually included physically with the candle
– “Love. From (your [first]name[s])" or "Remembering Alexander. Love,
from (your [first]name[s])". I may not be the only person you know that
has lost a child to stillbirth or neonatal death. Please include any names or
children you are lighting the candle for.
I would love to
share your wave of light with all the grieving families I’ve come in contact
with over the past 7 months.
I try to break free
from this isolating and lonely space that losing a child can put you in. I
encourage you to tell my story to those who are in need. To those who too, have
lost a child. I ask that you forward this email to ANYONE (your family and
friends) you feel would want to take part in the “Wave Of Light” to honor and
remember all the babies gone too soon. And please, if you know anyone that has
lost a child to stillbirth or neonatal death (or to anything for that matter),
tomorrow, please let them know you are thinking of them and remembering their
babes – gone way too soon.
Thanking you for
taking the time to read this email – and if possible, for lighting a candle
tomorrow. And thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for your continued love
and support in this very trying time.
Love,
Veronica and Daniel
***
I did the best I
could with what I have.
I have received a
few responses… and someone has already sent me a picture of the candle they lit
to honor all the babies gone too soon.
I think one of
Daniels sisters forwarded our message off to a bunch of his extended family…
and the “Wave of Light” might have been over looked. In her message, she said, “if you can’t light
a candle, please say a prayer for them tonight”.
(often times,
people don’t read “forwards” in detail…and just take the gist from the sender –
oh well…)
I’ve since got a
few responses saying that Daniel and I will be in their prayers tonight. So the wave of light will be from
within. And my hopes to posts a bunch of
pictures of lit candles from my friends and family might fall a little flat. But I did what I could.
***
There’s an amazing energy I feel today. I feel a tremendous sense of loss, but the
energy of togetherness and always remembering gives me a sense of peace. Remembering all of our children today.
Alexander David. We think of you every day – but today especially as we honor your life, gone way too soon.
You did a great job. It was a beautiful email. I hope that you are greeted with a warm and loving response. Alexander is included in our "wave of light". They all are.
ReplyDeleteI hope it doesn't sound dumb to say I'm proud of you. We are at my inlaws today, as we have been for a week and a half. During that time there has been no mention of A and I am not going to bring her up today. So, I observe this day silently, on my own, in my head. I think it is brave of you to speak up: I feel the heavy weight of others' silence on me and am usually incapable of breaking it. But oh how I wish, wish, wish someone would say something. Remembering Alexander.
ReplyDeleteWonderful email. It is so difficult to explain this loss and feeling to outsiders. The ones who try to understand (even tho they probably won't ever be able to) are the keepers. Don't feel badly about what you could or could not participate in the year. I was the same my first year, and when i participated last year for the first time, it was incredibly hard. This year was a little easier.
ReplyDeleteIt's a perfect e-mail. I know what you mean about feeling overwhelmed or like you're not a "good" BLM. I felt the same way--like if I couldn't go big, I just wanted to go home. This year, I'm just doing things for us. I too was afraid of asking people for support. I was embarrassed, it felt too deeply personal to share, and I was afraid people would disappoint me. It's gotten much easier to take other people's reactions in stride and just do what we need to do for our little family. Thinking of Alexander and sending love today especially.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful and loving e-mail. Remembering Alexander too.
ReplyDeletePerfectly said. Last night, I lit candles and thought of all our children. Thinking and missing Alexander with you. xx
ReplyDelete