Photo shoots for the angel book

I am so thrilled to finally be in production for the “In the Company of Angels,” a memorial book for moms who have lost babies to miscarriage or stillbirth. FINALLY, I get to fill out a book just for Casey Shay!

Here is a sneak peak at one of the new images. All the angels featured in the book are children who lost a brother or sister. This is Addeline and Teresa, born after their mom lost three precious babies. I first met their mom via this web site, and later she moved nearby and came for pictures! I am so pleased to have them in the book.

In the Company of Angels Image - Dust

A Day for Dads

Certainly, dads grieve differently from moms.

I hear from the occasional dad after the loss of a baby. Usually he is worried about mom, wanting to know what he can do or say to help. It’s unusual, although it happens, for him to be sad for himself.

For moms who feel the father of the baby is not grieving like she is, remember that in a relationship, the balance dictates that only one of us can fall apart at a time. He may be holding down his grief to make sure he can be there for you, and he may prefer to keep it private.

I assure you that he notices Father’s Day, especially if the lost baby would have been his only child. He may not cry about it, he may not be emotional. And he may not need for you to recognize him on this day, or even be very open to talking about how this day might affect him.

Sometimes, though, dads find ways to express their grief and pain. Gerrit Hofsink lost his first grandson to stillbirth. He has written and produced a song for the baby. It’s a beautiful song — you can hear it here:

http://www.myspace.com/gerrithofsink

And if you love it, you can buy it for $1 here:

http://cdbaby.com/cd/hofsink 

Gerrit is working with me on some wonderful tribute projects using the song.

Tom of the UK band Oswald also wrote a song for his child:

http://oswaldtheband.com/littlesoul/

His song is also available for purchase, to benefit grief organizations.

So Dads, this day is for you.

On Mother’s Day

This Sunday we celebrate Mother’s Day in the US. If you are at this site right now, I know your dreams of motherhood are not going the way you thought they would.

Maybe you were pregnant and recently lost your little one. Maybe you’re in the process of miscarrying now. Or maybe you’re having scary symptoms and fear that a loss may be imminent.

No matter where you are in this journey, you are a mother. You felt hope and joy when you learned you were expecting. You made plans and dreams about your baby’s future. You wanted nothing more than a happy, healthy baby.

This is what all we mothers want. It makes no matter whether you were a mother a few weeks into a pregnancy, or 80 long years of life: you are a mother. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.

On Sunday, we celebrate you. Even when the thought of being a mother is bittersweet, on this day, I like to just remember the sweet.

———————————————

Need to connect with other mourning moms? Our Facts about Miscarriage Facebook Group is a new community of women united in our losses, to tell our stories, leave our pictures, and find each other. If you belong to Facebook, join the group and invite others.  Joining Facebook is always free.

Anniversary Dates

Some women aren’t sure which is worse — dreading an important anniversary or forgetting it all together.

I get both scenarios in my inbox. Women who don’t see how they can make it through the due date or the anniversary of the loss, who may take off work or go through elaborate rituals. And women who suddenly realize — it passed by without my realizing it. Both things can send you spiraling.

But truly, either thing is a normal part of the process of healing. If you discover renewed grief on that day, then roll with it. Find a way to channel that emotion — make something for the baby, maybe a candle or an ornament, or if you aren’t crafty, do something good for someone else. Take a box of food to a food bank or a couple packages of diapers to a woman’s shelter. These are good and wonderful things you can do in honor of your baby.

And if you find the day has passed without your marking it — that’s okay too. The people who love us (and that includes our angels!) want to see us healing and back to living our lives. There is no better way to honor the ones we have lost than to be happy, healthy, and keeping their memories an important, but not necessarily debilitating, part of how we spend our days.

I got a jolt seven years ago when my ob/gyn tried to schedule Elizabeth’s c-section on April 28, the day we learned Casey had died in 1998. I was adamant — no way. So he tried the 30th, which was the day I had my D&E and actually lost the baby. I told him, “You can schedule it for that day, but I’m not going to show up.”

We settled on May 1, and Elizabeth arrived in all her glory, and my Casey days remained his. This time of year is always a mixed bag of somber and joyful, memories and celebrations. But if in the throes of party planning and preparing for sister’s big day, I don’t remember to bring my revelry to a halt to think of Casey, that’s fine too. He’s probably off playing somewhere anyway.

Winter Blues and Virtual Hugs

So many of you are having a hard time.

I’ve had a four-fold increase in direct emails since the new year began. Heartbreaking stories, difficult moments. Many of you feel so very alone.

I’ve heard women say things that make me so sad that in the ten years since this site began, so little has changed in how we feel about revealing the extent of our grief:

  • On Facebook, a woman wrote me thanking me for the private support, but she couldn’t join the Facts about Miscarriage support group because she didn’t want any of her Facebook friends to know she’d lost a baby. (Note that you have to be a member of Facebook–which is free–to see our Facebook group.)
  • Via email, another woman felt uncomfortable sharing the name of her baby, as she thought others would think it silly to name her lost child.
  • And everywhere, friends tell me how they keep their pregnancies to themselves for months, “just in case.” They don’t want others to know about the baby should they have a miscarriage.

I understand all this. I’ve been in these places, felt these things. But I want, really really want, a world where life CAN be celebrated from the moment it is known to exist. That we CAN tell our friends and family about this devastating loss, and feel loved and supported as we would in any death in the family. That we would NEVER feel guilty or as though we did something wrong, that the miscarriage was our fault.

This year I’m going to work even harder to make this happen. I’m applying for fellowships, trying to find time (and grant money to support me) to finish Baby Dust. I want to get this so visible, so public, so open, that we can change this feeling that we should hide what has happened.

We can’t change the miscarriage rate. This year, like most years, 6 million women (in the US) will get pregnant and almost 1 million of them will lose her baby. We are probably one of the single largest groups that suffers so silently.

I know from your emails, your notes, and your blog posts that you are having a hard time. 2009 isn’t starting off anything like you hoped. But this is a year we will get stronger. We’ll make something out of what has happened to us. And we’ll change things, because our babies, those beautiful little life-lights, live through us.

« Previous entries · Next entries »