Category: infant death

Personal Advent Season

For the past six years, I have been marking each year in remembrance of the day my son died, while learning to dread the anniversary of his due date all the more. Thanks to Facebook’s “On This Day” function, each December 14 I am reminded of all the love and support as the due date dawned without even the chance of his arrival. My mom friends rallied to give words of love and thoughts of me as this date shared heavily among expectant parents, arrived while he had already arrived four months earlier to say goodbye.

It took about two years before the reality of the due date coming with no baby really set in. Frankly, it was a lovely gesture that so many remembered a date spoken of fleetingly, months later, especially after the sudden horror of his being born still. Yet those first years after his death, I was almost wholly transfixed with the date of his death. I dreaded it, I loved it, I celebrated it, I wanted to hide from it. August 11 came each year and I felt dragged back into those frightful hours as we waited for him to be born still. Gradually I experienced the gift of God’s peace on Hardison’s death. Of help in feeling this peace, was discussing the continued preaching of Paul and others after being persecuted in the early years after Christ’s resurrection. One thing covered in the discussion was the idea of not focusing on the persecution, but the perseverance. By keeping our focus on God, we can stay the course by virtue of His love. When we are focused on the persecution (struggle, opposition, tragedy) it is much easier to become angry, disillusioned, and to give up. God’s love is shown in the understanding of our turmoil because Jesus Christ experienced the struggle of human life, in part to aid us during our times of need. I took these known ideas to heart more than ever and eased some of the flailing of my soul that I felt upon Hardison’s death. Even so, I met August 11 with pain long before the date showed up on the calendar every year. Somehow, despite my best efforts it still loomed large. Understandable, I know, yet December 14 would sneak up on me and then strike me down based on friends’ remembrance. Then, this year, I learned to appreciate the coming reminder of his due date all because I made a connection between it and the Christian celebration of Advent.

The Christian advent has come to be all about anticipating the second coming of the messiah. Christians wait for Christ to return and fulfill the promise of His eternal kingdom. Each year during the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, a time which has come to represent the birth of Christ, we look back at His coming and forward to His coming again. Even when not speaking in the Christian sense, advent can be defined as “the arrival of a notable  person, thing, or event.”  While reading a devotional taken from Bo Stern’s When Holidays Hurt, this statement took on a whole new meaning. Ms. Stern says “One of the reasons Jesus came to dwell with us – and is coming again – is to wipe away every tear.” Did your lightbulb go off too, based on your own circumstance or what you have read of mine? The bells were ringing like the sound when you get an answer right on a game show and the lightbulb illuminated. I could look upon the advent of Harrison’s due date as a reminder of the love and joy we were anticipating with the advent of a new member to our family. The way Christians look forward to the second advent of Christ, a member of our eternal family. I will still be heart sore and sad as December 14 arrives, but I can also view it as a personal advent season, a reminder every year of what Hardison means to this family. No longer do I only have to be reminded of when and how we lost his physical presence. I don’t have to be bombarded with sadness once the memory reminders start showing up on Facebook, I can reach back to the happy shock the date originally stood for.

These thoughts on personal advent seasons are not only useful due to the loss of a child. Most loss, sadness, and pain, can be brightened by the idea of the remembrance of the excitement of arrival. It may be you will look forward to the coming of justice, of peace, of love. But look forward in anticipation, not just back in sorrow.

Infant and Pregnancy Loss Remembrance

Today, October 15, is National Infant and Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day, here in the United States of America. If you have been reading for a while, you may remember the story I wrote about Bereaved Mother’s Day that talks about pregnancy and child loss. Today, many families will attend ceremonies which include waves of light, or candlelight ceremonies to remember the pregnancies and infants gone too soon from their lives.

In our little city, we will attend a candlelight ceremony where our children’s names will be read and we can place flowers at the remembrance statue. Our statue, The Angel Of Hope, is one many cities have, that stands in memory of the children who have died. This statue is based on the one in a book called The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans. This small book talks about the death of a child and the visit to the grave where this angel statue sits. It isn’t a story of loss only, it is a small book with an inspiring story of remembrance and cherishing the here and now. After this book became popular, people would write the author wanting to know where they could go and visit the statue in the story, in order to mourn their own dead children. Well, there was no physical statue, only in the author’s mind. Afterwards, Richard Paul Evans had a statue commissioned and it was placed in Salt Lake City, Utah and dedicated in 1994. Since then, more than 120 areas have raised money to bring an Angel Of Hope to their town for grieving parents.

This August we reminisced on 6 years without our #2 son. Today, we will join other parents to talk, listen, and spend quiet time at the statue and in fellowship. In many ways, it is an atmosphere of celebration too. There will be cake and living children running around, along with decorating luminaries and families bringing balloons and other trinkets to place at the statue. A local florist provides roses for family members to place every year also. Yet, there will also be sadness throughout the evening. There will be way too many new families in our group, there will be raw feelings and lots of tears. Yet, I am usually refreshed afterwards. It is a unique experience to be comfortable about such a heavy topic with people. Some years this ceremony is just a lovely way to remember our son, other years it is a devastating reminder of our loss. You don’t know where your grief will have you year by year, but I am very appreciative of those in our community who fill this need yearly. Who reach out, through their own grief, to hug the newly grieving every year. I am feeling good and hope I can be a shoulder for those not doing as well this year. Be kind, be gentle, be understanding to all those who grieve in memory today.

Where Have You Been?

Well, I thank you for asking. It has been a blurry two months. August is always hazy as I relive the stillbirth of my son and try to eat my feelings away while the world goes on around me. Even with the outlet of this blog, I couldn’t find anything redeeming to post about, I didn’t figure my sadness was worthy of a post. Looking back, I should have known instead of being depressing, it might actually have been helpful for others and cathartic for me. Writing is often helpful in that way. But instead, I took my time with my feelings and memories. I have learned that taking this time to honor whatever I am feeling is very important. We are often taught to suppress our feelings because they can be unsettling to others. Yet, that leads to a suppression of ourselves that eventually leads to a destruction of ourselves and profound unhappiness. I think people confuse the idea of happiness. Other people don’t make us happy, but we can be happy with others. Happiness blooms from within our own flawed selves. Knowing what makes us tick is the epitome of being happy. 

One problem with taking that time, is that by the time I get out of the haze, half of September is gone, the next half is spent worrying over our full October calendar. Also the realization that I won’t really be leaving the sadness of August behind anyway, that sadness follows you like a hungry puppy. I don’t spend all my time being sad, but the reality is that being sad is a constant since that day my son died. In October there is a birthday, an anniversary, and Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day. Let’s not forget the kid favorite Halloween, in the 5 years since my son died I am sometimes so under that I forget to ask the older kids what they want to be until it is almost too late. I have to sell my right arm for the costume they really want because it has been locally sold out since September. Then I have to pick over the left over candy that no one even likes because I didn’t buy the good stuff for the trick-or-treaters in time! See, I don’t always have this parenting thing down. Keeping all those balls in the air feels heartbreaking sometimes and heartbreak is heavy! This year, I am happy to announce that I didn’t have to search Internet hell looking for that elusive costume because I actually came out of the haze in time to keep the Halloween ball up in the air! I take my successes where they come.

So, no August posts, no September posts but I am determined to get back to one of the few things that bring peace to the voices telling me despondent things about myself. Peace is a highly sought after commodity in my world. I hope you have missed my voice, even if you didn’t, I hope you will stop by again and see what new thing might be happening.

I have been in the dark of sadness and memories, I want to be back in the sunlight with the rest of the world. To that end, I look forward to sharing some words to bring myself a little sunlight and maybe you too. Join me whenever you can.

International Bereaved Mother’s Day – Did You Know?

The holiday of Mother’s Day was founded by a woman to honor her mother, who had watched only 4 of her 12 children survive into adulthood. Let that sink in. I learned this news from CarlyMarie, who had the idea of a Bereaved Mother’s Day back in 2010. You can read about it on her blog, CarlyMarie Project Heal. She has helped make a comforting place to learn about the importance of celebrating all mothers, those with living children and those without. You can find information on helping bereaved mothers and ways we as bereaved mothers can help ourselves during the sometimes painful season of Mother’s Day.

Yes, we, for I am a bereaved mother also. My second son was born still 4 and a half years ago. The stillbirth of H catapulted me into the club of millions of women and their families who have lost a child through miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. It is a club I barely knew existed, but once I was a member it seemed that many of my friends were already in the club too. Few people openly discuss the loss of child. There are many reasons why, some may feel it too private, some may not want to think about it, some want to shield the feelings of friends who haven’t walked this particular road. While I respect a person’s decision to share or not, both their joys and struggles, I found sharing to be a huge part of my journey. I didn’t start sharing because I was thinking about others, so don’t put me on a pedestal! I started sharing because I desperately wanted to make sure people knew H mattered, had made an impact, and that he wasn’t forgotten because other people didn’t get to meet him or know him. Later I would learn from brave mothers that my talking about H openly, with love and to anyone, gave them courage and helped start healing in their own hearts. This is a beautiful gift to me, these courageous women feeling lighter in their own stories because H had been loved by our family. Sharing my story is a way I honor H and in honoring him I help in not only the healing of hearts but the removal of the stigma connected to talking about our lost children.




This year Bereaved Mother’s Day was observed on May 1, it was nice to see some of my friends on social media post lovely words of love and grief, so weirdly mixed when talking about mothering lost children. I wasn’t in a place of intense grief yesterday, but I may be in one tomorrow. The grief comes barreling out of nowhere sometimes. It isn’t kept safe to show up only on the days you expect, like the anniversaries of birth and death, or holidays like Christmas. No, grief sneaks up on Saturdays when you have to attend baby showers, or Sundays when you are walking in the park surrounded by blooming pregnant bellies and strollers with slumbering babes. Sometimes it shows up as you drive by the hospital where you learned you would be burying a child instead of taking one home. Grief is unpredictable and never ending. I mourn continuously, yet my mourning isn’t all I have. I also have peace and that peace came from a strengthened relationship with God. My relationship was strengthened through my disaster, so whenever grief comes, I acknowledge it, I accept it, yet I do not have to wallow in it. I give grief its due, then I find a way to honor H, who brought new depths to the love in my heart and in my family.

This year, when you celebrate Mother’s Day, remember the millions of women who may be really struggling with this day. If you are lucky enough to be entrusted with her story, honor her and her child by listening and being. Maybe help her research the many organizations and ways she can honor being the mother of a child no longer living, because a child carried in our hearts is equal to the child carried in our arms.