Enjoying our blessings vs. focusing on what we've lost...

~~by Cherie Houston

I want to share with you a comment I read in the spring of 2010, just months after my son Bobby died. A student of mine sent me the link, recommending that I read an article she'd read which she felt might help me with my grief journey..The following “comment” was written about this specific article - the article itself was written by Meagan Francis, on her website: www.thehappiestmom.com

Meagan Francis's article on June 1st, 2010 was titled: “Going On Living After A Child Has Died” a subject we all know and understand only too well.... please read it if you get a chance...

Anyway - after I read her article, I continued on and read many of the comments that were posted.  Most of the comments voiced overwhelming fear and tremendous gratitude that they, the person writing the comment, had never experienced this horrific event of losing a child themselves. But the following comment touched my heart – it made me realize just how important it is for each of us who have lost a child to continue on, to enjoy life and celebrate the life of our child who has died – but just as importantly, it reminded me of how, the way in which we continue on, can and does affect those we love who are still with us. Thank you Michelle P for your honesty and words of wisdom…I have the following comment printed and by my computer to continually remind me of the importance of living and enjoying each and every member of my family who are alive and well..something I was losing sight of...

Despite my love for my three angel children, I admit I am not ready to join them ~ instead I hope that I can and will keep their memories alive by living each and every day to the fullest and seeing the beauty and blessings of all that I have, which includes my amazing family: the most wonderful husband a woman could ask for, 2 wonderful sons; 2 wonderful step-sons, 5 beautiful daughter-in-laws and 10 (soon to be 11) amazing grandchildren!!!  I try to focus each & every day on the positive, instead of concentrating on that which I’ve lost..  I truly hope this comment will help you just a little…

Michelle P on June 1, 2010 at 8:02 pm

Denise Schipani expressed it perfectly: “You go on, but you take a wildly different path.” If we are the sum total of our experiences – and losing a child is surely one of the most traumatic experiences I’ve ever witnessed – then what actually happens to parents in these circumstances is not only unknowable, it’s unimaginable.

I watched my parents deal with the accidental death of my younger brother (he drowned at the age of 19), through the months when they were literally sick with grief, and the eight years since. They (as am I) are forever changed by his death but not necessarily in a negative or even regrettable way. And that’s because (and I’m not sure how to say this right) it’s not only in death that we were changed: that change actually began with his life – the fact that he died is only one aspect of who he was, just as the fact that my mother is not just a person who lost a son, she is a person who HAD a son for 19 years. And after working (and it really WAS work) through their grief, my parents choose to go on living full and even healthier lives partly as a celebration of his life. They see it as his inheritance, as something he’s given back to them, a way to make sense of his death – it gives even more meaning to their lives, to their identities as parents (because you don’t stop being a parent when your child dies).

I am incredibly proud of my parents for this: it is not only one of the bravest decisions they have ever taken, but it means that I have not lost them along with the future I would have had my brother.

Reminder for Dads and Grandfathers-You are not alone...

You are not alone...

The strength of the men around me had always been something I envied, with one exception.. when my children died... It was during those three life events, when my three children died - my little girl Randee Marie in 1970 shortly after her birth-Randee and her twin brother Ric who is now 43 and the father of 2 of my beautiful grandchildren were born 12 weeks prematurely; again the following year when my 2nd daughter Robin Marie died tragically from SIDS, and then again in September 2009 when my 36 year old son Bobby, took his own life, leaving a wife and 2 very small sons - no when these incidents happened, I no longer envied the men in my life.....

Quite the opposite, although I remember wishing and praying I could be as strong as those men around me "Stoic, strong, unbending, unemotional, able to conceal the obvious overwhelming pain", but I eventually realized that all that I'd seen was not what it appeared...  I realized it was much more difficult for so many of the men who have these same tragic experiences...  the dads, grandfathers, uncles & brothers who experienced these horrific lose - why was it worse for them (an not easier as I'd thought), it was  because they couldn't openly grieve, or at least they felt they couldn't!

Because while most women don't try to "toughen up" during these most difficult hours, we just grieve without thinking about what other's think, we simply grieve in whatever way we do...but sadly, so many men feel they must be the strong one, the brave one, that they must hide their emotions, their tears and their pain.. but when it is the death of their child or grandchild, no man - father or grandfather should feel pressured to be anything but grieving...they like the women in their lives just need to be able to grieve, in whatever way they need to do to deal with the unimaginable grief.....

So dads and grandfathers, you aren't alone...  Thanks to other grieving dads who struggled with their own journeys of grief and have found ways to work with and help other grieving dads, like Kelly Farley at www.grievingdads.com and author of "Grieving Dads:  To the Brink and Back"; Dan Hoppes, who along with his wife Judy founded Heartbeat of Havasu for bereaved parents of children who ernded their own lives; and the grieving fathers and mothers who founded other support groups Bereaved Parents www.bereavedparentsusa.org  and The Compassionate Friends www.compassionatefriends.org and thousands of others in many communities throughout the United States and almost every country of the world...

Our children are not supposed to die before us, but sadly they do... And coping with hat horrible reality isn't easy so reach out... Anyone who loves and cares about you and your famjily will understand and if they don't that is their problem - not yours... we can only hope that they will never know this unimaginable heartache that comes for the death of our beloved children, no matter their age...

So know that you are in our thoughts and prayers in this month of June - the moth when Father'as Day is celebrated and also throughout the year... No matter how you grieve, know that you are without any doubt stronger than most around you because you have endured a pain and heartache like no other...  Cherie Houston

When my child has died - please.......

Thank you to Paula B. from Beverly, England for sharing this - every mom whose on this journey, understands these statements all too well...

When My Child Has Died

~author is unknown but she knows she was a woman

When my child has died, please… 

• Don’t ignore me because you are uncomfortable with the subject of death. It makes me wonder if what happened means nothing to you.

• Acknowledge my pain, even if you think it shouldn’t be as great as it is… (because I’ve ‘only’ lost a baby or one of four!)

• Losing a child is one of the most difficult experiences to face and the depth of my grief will shock even me as it returns in waves. A tremendous number of emotional and physical hurts will come my way – please don’t minimize them.

• Please be aware that holidays and anniversaries will be particularly difficult times.

• If you invite me for lunch or bring a meal around (and please do) in the midst of my grief, please expect to talk about my loss. It’s all I’m thinking about and I need to talk it out; small talk neither interests nor helps just now.

• Please don’t change the subject if I start to cry. Tears and talking about it are the healthiest way for me to release my intense emotions.

• Telling me that So-and-so’s situation must have been much worse won’t make mine easier. It only makes me feel you don’t understand or can’t acknowledge the extent of my pain.

• Don’t expect that because my child is in heaven or ‘with God’ I shouldn’t be hurting. Even the most fervent believer in God would rather have their child with them. My arms ache to hold my child and I miss him or her so much. And God might not be finding favor with me right now.

• Now is not the time to tell me about your own childbirth or child’s experiences… It reminds me in the most painful way of what I’m missing.

• Don’t remind me that I’m so lucky to have other children. I am and I know it. But my pain is excruciating for this child; the others don’t take that pain away. Indeed, they can add to it because I’ve got to comfort them as well.

• No matter how bad I look, please don’t say “You look terrible.” I feel like a total failure right now and I don’t need to hear that I look awful too.

• Don’t devalue my experience or my child – the feelings of deprivation are so intense. A child who has never breathed is nonetheless missed so if I’ve ‘only’ miscarried or my child was stillborn, don’t forget he/she was a very special, unique person.

• Please don’t suggest my child can be replaced by my having more. Would you say “Don’t worry, there are plenty more fish in the sea,” to someone who had just lost their husband?

• When you ask my husband how I’m doing – please don’t forget to ask him how he’s doing too. He has also lost his child. If you ignore his hurt it suggests that his pain doesn’t exist or doesn’t matter.

Remembering Baby

~ Robin Elise Weiss, LCCE

Having your baby die at any point in gestation or after is something horrible to even comprehend. And yet millions of families are living with these memories. While after awhile they are not constant, they are there. Our minds often turn to loved ones lost at family centered times of year or during special remembrances. Family celebrations may conjure up pictures in your mind of "what if" holidays or as due dates and birth or death dates come and go.

"What if our baby had lived. She would be two this year and opening gifts and playing with boxes."

"I can't imagine being the mother to a 13 year old now..."

"Wonder what it would have been like to be the parent of a little boy."

Here are some ideas to help you remember your lost babies at this or any time of year - Ways to Remember:

Name your baby ~ Consider giving your baby a name. If it feels right or good, do it. Don't let anyone else tell you how to grieve. It doesn't matter how far along your pregnancy was or whether or not you knew the sex of your baby. This is something you can do, even years later.

Save something from the experience ~ One of the nicest things I've saved was the card and the ultrasound photos that I had mailed to my husband who was off defending his dissertation. It had actually been lost in the mail, and returned to sender. We received it about 2 weeks after we had had a D & C. On the cover of the card was a fat, giggling baby, rolling in flowers. It's a rather popular picture, and every time I see it now I think of that baby.

Create a Ritual - This was particularly helpful to me during a subsequent pregnancy. It went right along with our family Sabbath and was a special prayer form our family to say thank you for the time we had with the baby that was growing and that we were anxiously awaiting the birth. It involved a small candle and prayer. The candle stayed unlit until the very first Sabbath after the birth of that baby.

Hold a service ~ Have a memorial service for your baby. Again, no matter how long you had your baby, it's still a part of you and recognizing this publicly can be very healing. It can also allow your friends and family a chance to learn to express themselves and help you.

Send announcements ~ I've received some of the most beautiful announcements. The first one I received, I was shocked and amazed. The mother explained that she was relieved not to have to tell everyone in person, and yet it was a public way to announce the birth/death of their daughter and ask for community support.

Buy something special ~ For my last pregnancy loss, we knew nothing of the baby, and the pregnancy ended so early and violently, we had no mementos or even ultrasound pictures. I was out shopping and ran across a small rock. It was smooth, but not polished. It felt good and heavy in my hands. It had a simple message inscribed: Remember. Now it sits on my desk.

Make a donation ~ You can donate anything, time, gifts, or money. One of the sweetest things I've heard of is parents returning to the hospital where their child was born and giving a special blanket to the staff to be given to a baby born either around the anniversary time for that baby or for another grieving family.

Robin Elise Weiss, a mom herself and also a mom who has lost children, has attended hundreds of births and taught couples about pregnancy and birth. She is the author of The About.com Guide to Having a Baby, About.com Guide to Baby Care, Guarantee the Sex of Your Baby, The Everything New Mother's First Year, The Everything Pregnancy Fitness Book, The Everything Getting Pregnant Book, Everything Parenting Guide to Raising Adolescent Boys, The Complete Illustrated Pregnancy Companion, the The Better Way to Care for Your Baby

Life After Loss: How The Death of A Baby Changes You Forever

Excerpt from an article written by Ann Douglas…


During those intensely painful days after my daughter Laura was stillborn, I remember feeling that I was at a crossroads in my life-that two separate paths lay before me: I could let this tragedy destroy my life and break my spirit or I could find a way to make something positive come out of my daughter's death.  Fortunately for me, I inherited the stubborn gene from my parents, so giving up on life really wasn't a viable option for me. So, by default, I gravitated toward the second alternative: finding a way to make something good come out of this most searing of losses.

While I would never have wished this on myself, the death of a baby is too big a price to pay for any personal growth experience, I have been forever changed by the experience of losing Laura. In many ways, I'm a better person than I was before that fateful day five years ago when a tiny piece of my heart was forever broken.

For one thing, I'm more compassionate. I feel an immediate bond with any parent who has experienced the death of a baby as well as anyone else who is grieving the death of someone significant in their life, be it a spouse, a parent, or a close friend.

My volunteer work with grieving parents and the articles and books I've written on miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death have allowed me to make a difference in the lives of other parents who've experienced the tragedy of losing a much-wanted baby. That means a lot to me.

I'd say I'm more aware of what it feels like to be really connected to someone-heart-to-heart and soul-to-soul. I have a very special friend whose baby died shortly after mine did. The two of us spent a lot of time together in the weeks that followed, sharing our grief about the babies who would never come home.

Another perk: I'm less of a control freak. After all, I've learned the hard way that some things are out of your control-and some things can't be fixed, no matter how desperately you want to put the pieces back together again.

I've come to terms with my fear of death. Being forced to deal with the death of my child has forced me to confront my own mortality.

I've also learned how to put things in perspective. A leaky ceiling, a missed deadline, a squabble with my husband, or a minor fender bender no longer qualify as a crisis for me. I now save the "crisis" label for the real life-and-death situations.

Finally, I'm better able to celebrate the wonder in everyday life. Rather than looking forward to that magical day when my mortgage is paid off, I reach my goal weight, and I have a book or two on the bestseller list (hey, a girl can dream, can't she?), I'm more inclined to delight in what's happening in the here and now: to savour the joy I feel when my youngest child, Ian, hugs my leg and says, "I really love you, Mom" and to enjoy the way my heart lifts when the telephone rings and there's a special friend on the other end of the line.

There are just a few of the gifts that Laura gave to me during her brief journey through my life. These gifts are her legacy to me.

Ann Douglas is the author of 21 books, including The Mother of All Pregnancy Books: The Ultimate Guide to Conception, Birth and Everything in Between, The Mother of All Baby Books: The Ultimate Guide to Your Baby's First Year, The Unofficial Guide to Having a Baby, Baby Science and Trying Again: A Guide to Pregnancy After Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss. She is a regular contributor to ePregnancy and WebMD, and has been featured in Parenting, Working Mother, and Good Housekeeping. She is the mother of four children, ages 5 through 14, and can be contacted via her web site http://www.having-a-baby.com/

Why Does My Husband Not Hurt Like I Do?

~ Written by Jimmy Hinton - Mar 11, 2008 – published on www.silentgrief.com ~

This was written from a father’s perspective and I think it is beneficial for all of the mom’s to hear another side so that we don’t take their actions or inactions personally and remember that we all grieve differently…

Do you ever wonder why your husband sits, almost robotically, absorbed in his newspaper or television while you cry? Do you ever talk to him—no—pour your heart out to him only to get a blank stare back from him when what you so desperately needed was for him to comfort you? Have you ever wanted to shake him and ask, “Would you just feel the pain I’m feeling for one second?” Grief is like a chameleon and scorpion bred together. It blends into our lives so deviously that we almost don’t know how it rooted itself so deeply into our being. We hardly can see when it comes and goes. All we know is that it’s there, it’s complicated, and it’s real. Then when we put our guard down and things seem like they are going ok, it strikes us without warning. And it hurts.

This is partly why men seem like they’re “not with it” when grief strikes. From the beginning of time, men have been hardwired to be rough, gruff, hunting, farming, hands-on, work-things-out kind of people. Furthermore, men are hardwired to want to rescue their ladies. Women long to be rescued by a hero and that is why they need someone to listen, to care, and to comfort! Men, however, are completely thrown into confusion when grief strikes because there is no easy way to rescue a person from grief! I can listen to my wife for hours when she’s telling me about all the good things that happened to her throughout the day. But as soon as she starts sharing things that really hurt her, I clam up. I don’t know what to say or how to say it. So unfortunately, I usually say. . . nothing. Grief has no magical cure. A husband cannot come in and sweep his wife off her feet and lift her up to happiness. Grief completely confuses the man’s world.

Men, for the most part, are mechanical. By this I don’t mean mechanically inclined. A mechanical man, though he likes adventure and taking risks, needs life to run smoothly. He likes to know he can provide for his family, that he is secure in his job and relationships, and that his family respects him. When his wife is grieving a tremendous loss, his world is thrown so far out of balance that he literally doesn’t know how to function. This is when men slide into their default mode of working with their hands. They pick up the paper, they turn on the television or they go out to work in the garage.

Women, please understand that if a man is quiet or removes himself from the house, this does not mean that he isn’t hurting as bad as you are. In fact, chances are that he’s hurting worse. Men hate seeing their wives hurt. Men grieve in different ways—mostly they have to physically vent their frustration through different hobbies and they absolutely need some alone time.

Men, please understand that grief confuses the woman’s world as much as it confuses yours. The irony is that women need a shoulder to cry on, someone who listens, and for their husbands to be vulnerable and express their emotions—the very things most of us aren’t comfortable doing for them! Even if you don’t know what to say, I promise that if you take time to listen and cry with your wives, you will be their hero and new avenues for healing will be opened.