Visitor From Heaven

A visitor from Heaven
If only for a while.
The gift of life to be returned
We think of you and smile.

A visitor from Heaven
Accompanied by grace
Reminding of a better love
And of a better place.

With aching hearts and empty arms
We send you with a name.
It hurts so much to let you go
But we're so glad you came.

We're so glad you came
A visitor from Heaven
If only for a day.
We thank Him for the time he gave
And now it's time to say.

We trust you to the Father's love
And to His tender care.
Held in the Everlasting Arms
And we're so glad you're there.
We're so glad your there.

With breaking hearts and open hands
We send you with a name.
It hurts so much to let you go
But we're so glad you came.
We're so glad you came.

-Unknown

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Reminding

If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding that they died - you' re not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived... and that is a great gift."
~Elizabeth Edwards

That's Strange

We have adopted a baby girl. Twice now I've called her Livy. That's strange. I'm sure it's just an oopsie like when my momma would call me by one of my sister's names. But it felt like a slap in the face each time I heard myself do it. That's strange. My husband's done it twice now, that I've heard, too. That's strange. I guess she's just on our minds. Having this baby girl reminds us of what we never got to have with Olivia.

Normal

Normal is having tears behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life. Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for birthdays, Christmas', Thanksgivings, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th, and Easter. Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party, yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket. Normal is feeling you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming because you just don't like to sit through anything. Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what ifs and why didn't Is go through your head constantly. Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away. Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house because the silence is deafening. Normal is staring at every baby who looks like she is my baby's age, and then thinking of the age she would be now and not being able to imagine it, then wondering why it is even important to imagine it because it will never happen. Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of the hole in my heart. Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday commonplace activity and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds and yet realizing it has become a part of my normal. Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and her birthday and survive these days, and trying to find the balloon or flag that fits the occasion. Happy birthday? Not really. Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby loved. Thinking how she would love it, but how she is not here to enjoy it. Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby. Normal is making sure that others remember her. Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever. Normal is not listening to people compare anything to this loss. Unless they too have lost a child NOTHING, even if your child is in the remotest part of the Earth away from you, compares. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural. Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day because I know my mental health depends on it. Normal is realizing I do cry every day. Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as a "fetal demise" or a "product of conception" when you know they once were someone's loved one. normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child. normals is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child. normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands, and all over the USA, but never having met any of them face to face. Normals is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives. Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God, "God may have done this because...". I love God. I know my baby is up in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from Earth is not appreciated and makes no sense to this grieving mother. Normals is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small happy children that break your heart when you see them. Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there is even a God. Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years. And last of all, normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal". This "normal" is torture.
-Unknown

My Child's Name

Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know,
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.
Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing the tears that I try to hide.
I'm hurt when you just keep silent, pretending she didn't exist.
I'd rather you mention my child,
Knowing that she has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing,
I say "pretty good" or "fine."
But healing is something ongoing.
I feel it will take a lifetime.

-Author Unknown

Poem Without A Name

This was sent to me by a friend who has babies in heaven:

"The following poem was sent to us by a mother who received it from a friend. The friend had no idea who wrote it. Surely though, whoever did must have been someone like us, to capture not just the pathos of stillbirth, but the emptiness that greets mothers when they step back into the world.

"What is it in our culture that causes so many to fear death so much that they will go out of their way to not even discuss it? Is this aversion like the blinders horses wear, so they are not startled by peripheral events? If so, we’re going to miss a lot of life along the roads we travel for not accepting that all roads have endings.

"We have experienced the best and the worst life has to offer. And yet is there any one of us who – were we given a chance knowing the outcome – would not have gone through the fire? We are not to be pitied for our loss. It is they, who have 'died', but not yet stopped breathing or fallen over, that deserve the pity."


Poem Without A Name

To those who look away when I grow teary-eyed in the baby department,
look a little deeper.
Surely you have some compassion in your heart.

To those who change the subject when we speak our baby's name,
change your way of thinking.
It just might change your whole life.

To those who roll their eyes and say that we barely had her at all,
how could we miss her so much,
in our hearts we have seen her live a thousand times.
We have seen her first steps, her first day of school, her wedding, and her children.
We have had her forever in our minds.

To those who say we can have another, we did.
I thank God for that everyday,
but even if I have twenty more babies,
I will forever have one in the grave,
and that is one too many.

To those who say to get on with my life, I have.
It is a different life,
the life of a grieving mother.
One with a tremendous amount to be thankful for,
but also one with a lot to mourn the loss of!

Do not judge the bereaved mother.
She comes in many forms.
She is breathing, but she is dying.
She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.
She smiles, but her heart sobs.
She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works,
she IS, but she IS NOT, all at once.
She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.

Do not dismiss us; we have shaped more than just the future generation.
We have released all the tiny angels who are watching over you.
Open your eyes to US,
and you just might see THEM.

-Author Unknown

Unless You've Lost A Child...

Don't ask us if we are over it yet. We'll never be over it. A part of us died with our child. Don't tell us they are in a better place. They are not here with us where they belong. Don't say at least they are not suffering. We haven't come to terms with why they suffered at all. Don't tell us at least we have other children. Which of your children would you have sacrificed? Don't ask us if we fell better. Bereavement isn't a condition that clears up. Don't tell us at least we had our child for the time we did. What time would you choose for your child to die? Don't tell us God never gives us more than we can bear. Don't avoid us. We don't have a contagious disease, just an unbearable pain. Don't tell us you know how we feel unless you have lost a child. No other loss can compare to losing a child. It's not the natural order of things. Don't take our anger personally. We don't know who we are angry at and why and may lash out at those closest to us. Don't whisper behind us when we enter a room. We are in pain, but not deaf. Don't stop calling us after the initial loss. our grief does not stop there and we need to know others are thinking of us. Don't be offended when we don't return calls right away. We take each moment as it comes and some are worse than others. Don't tell us to get on with our lives. We each grieve differently and in our own time frame. Grief can not be governed by any clock or calendar.

Do say you're sorry. We're sorry too, and your saying that you share our sorrow is far better than saying any of those tired cliches you don't really mean anyway. Even if you're more sorry that we hurt than you are at our child's passing. It wasn't your child and you weren't as close to them as we were so we'll understand. Just say you're sorry. Do put your arms around us and hold us. We need your strength to get us through each day. Do say you remember our child, if you do. Even if you just remember us being pregnant or how happy we were when we were pregnant. Memories are all we have left and we cherish them. Do let us talk about our child. Our child may have or may not have lived, but still lives in our hearts, forever. Do mention our child's name. It will not make us sad or hurt our feelings. Do let us cry. Crying is an important part of the grief process. Cry with us if you want to. Do remember us on special dates. Our child's birth date, death date, due date, and holidays are a very lonely and difficult time for us without our child. Do send us cards on those dates saying you remember our child. We do. Do show our family that you care. Sometimes we forget to do that in our own pain. Do be thankful for children.

-taken from the "Utah Share" Newsletter January/February 2008

Why Olivia?

It was her name before we knew it. It was always her name, and it was meant to be given to her. One of the very first names that came up was "Olivia". Hubby loved it. In the end we ruled it out because it is such a popular name and we didn't want there to be 5 other Olivia's in her kindergarten class. The night before Olivia was born Hubby and I discussed what to name her. The first name came from Doug who said "Olivia". It clicked. That was it. We immediately knew it. I said "Olivia", and she became Olivia. Then I asked about a middle name. We thought a second. I said a certain name and it clicked again. That was it. We knew it. Olivia. A name beloved by her daddy, with a name shared with her momma and beloved by her grandma, added to the name of her family. It is perfect, and it fits her so well. When I held her the next day, I knew "Olivia" was who she was meant to be.

I Am Not A Fetus

I am not a fetus, I am a baby
Perfectly formed, but still.

I am not medical waste of no account,
life’s flotsam and jetsam,
a ganglion of cells,
to be discarded.

I was born with a name,
The product of my parents genes,
Their child. But I came without breath,
And so I am not counted. Or acknowledged

Had I taken a breath or made a whimper,
had a beating heart or moved a limb
I would have been called a baby.

To my mother I am her baby.
It’s how she calls out to me when she cannot sleep,
Pleading, imploring, asking, why.....?

Her love transcends time; our bond of life is not broken,
I was here, flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood,
And I will always be.... Her baby.
Two souls... joined for eternity.

By: Richard Olsen, founder and Executive Director of The National Stillbirth Society

My Child's Name

"The mention of my child's name may bring tears to my eyes, but it never fails to bring music to my ears. Let me hear the beautiful music of her name. It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul."

-Unknown

For Friends and Family

The Mission of Share -Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. is to serve those whose lives are touched by the tragic death of a baby through early pregnancy loss, stillbirth or in the first few months of life.

The primary purpose is to provide support toward positive resolution of grief experienced at the time of or following the death of a baby. This support encompasses emotional, physical, spiritual and social healing, as well as sustaining the family unit.

The secondary purpose is to provide information, education, and resources on the needs and rights of bereaved parents and siblings. The objective is to aid those in the community including family, friends, and employers, member of the congregation, and caregivers and others in their supportive role.

Share is a non-denominational, not-for-profit (501c3) organization, providing support, comfort and hope. Additional information about Share can be obtained by contacting:


National Share Office
St. Joseph Health Center
300 First Capitol Drive
St. Charles, MO 63301-2893
Office Phone: 636-947-6164
Toll Free Phone: 800-821-6819
Fax: 636-947-7486
E-mail: share@nationalshareoffice.com
Website: http://www.nationalshareoffice.com/
Office Hours: Monday-Thursday 9:00 am – 4:00 pm Central Time

Dear Friend:

Someone very special to you has just experienced the death of a precious child. This is an extremely difficult situation because most people never expect a child to die and after the initial grief, they do not know how to interact with the grieving parent. As a parent whose baby recently died, I would like to mention some things that might make the situation easier for you and the grieving parent:

1. Realize that saying “I’m sorry” at any time after a baby has died is never inappropriate or too late.

2. Understand that the length of time a baby is carried or the amount of time a child lives does not determine his/her value or the impact that the child has on the parents’ lives. To ignore what has happened in hopes that the grief will pass is to diminish the worth of a child that was loved from the time of the awareness of its existence, long before its birth.

3. Realize that just as no one can replace a mother who dies, a new baby cannot replace a child who has died. All children are individuals, conceived separately, born separately, and loved separately. It is no different with a child that dies before, during, or shortly after birth. A parent cannot and should not be expected to “save” the love they have for their dead child to give to the next child. The ability to create another baby is not a way to resurrect a dead child therefore, it should not be thought of as a complete comfort. Not only is it unfair to the dead child, but it makes the next child a substitute.

4. If you are uncomfortable about discussing the death of the child with the parents because you think they won’t want to talk about it, don’t shy away. Simply say something like “I just want you to know that I want to listen if you need to talk”. Call frequently to ask how the parent is adjusting. If you live close to the parents, take the initiative to get together for lunch or some sporting activity (offer frequently, but don’t force it). Let the parents set the pace but constantly show them that you are open and interested. It may be horrifying for you to hear some details of the death, but it is much worse for the parents to experience the trauma and then have to keep it to themselves because they know it will be hard on you. When they tell you how they feel, refrain from making judgments and setting timetables.

5. Realize that a child is still the product of the parents’ love and the joy of their lives. There is joy and pain. The joy doesn’t end when the child dies, and the pain doesn’t end as soon as the funeral is over and the cards are sent- accept both. Don’t try to take the pain away. Parents need to feel it, hard as it is to see their pain, they need to grieve.

6. If the child has a name, use it. Try to remember the parents with a note or a phone call on their first Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, as well as the baby’s predicted due date and the first year anniversary of the child’s birth and death (even the first few monthly anniversaries).

Finally, if I can convey one thing to you in hopes it will make a difference, it is this: please make an effort not to underestimate the depth of the pain, the length of the grief, and most importantly, the difference your support and involvement can make during this painful adjustment. There may not be any other time when you are needed more than now. If you distance yourself because you’re uncomfortable until you think a reasonable amount of time has passed, you may find a different kind of distance and hurt between yourself and the grieving parent. If you share the experience, everyone will come out of it stronger.

Praying that God will guide and strengthen you.

A Mother

National Share Office, St. Joseph Health Center, 300 First Capitol Drive, St. Charles, MO. 63301 - May 1999





TO OUR FAMILY & FRIENDS
OUR GRIEF EXPERIENCE SHARED

We want to share with you some of our feelings and how you can help and support us. We have suffered a tremendous loss, and we need to grieve. Even though this may be uncomfortable for others around us, it’s something we MUST do. We won’t be over this in a few weeks as most people expect. We will be able to adjust to the loss of our precious child if we are given the time needed to grieve. (Average intense grieving is 18-24 months). However, we will not be the same people we were before our loss.

We may need to talk about our baby, how much we loved our child and the details of our experience. Even though we may not have many memories we suffer from broken dreams. During this time we need others to be there and listen to us time and time again. This is the kindest thing a person can do for us. We do not want to forget our baby and we will need to mention him/her in the future. It would be appreciated if you would remember our baby, especially on difficult days such as anniversary days, birthdays, Christmas, and Mother’s and Father’s Day.

In our struggles with our grief, we may have difficulties with the following:
· Understanding our many emotions and feeling emotionally balanced.
· Coping with feelings of guilt, anger and jealousy.
· Dealing with normal daily functions due to lack of energy.
· Deciding what to do with our baby’s belongings.
· Coping with the individuality of our grief as a family and as a couple.
· Sharing family celebrations.
· Seeing babies/children that are the same age our child would have been.
· Needing to make major decisions such as subsequent pregnancies, moving, job changes, etc.
· Visiting the cemetery and purchasing a tombstone.
· Remembering our baby in special ways that are acceptable.
· Feeling different and subsequently feeling isolated.
· Dealing with physical symptoms that arise due to grieving.

Dealing with these many emotions takes a lot of courage and tedious work. It is worth it so we can have peace of mind and a physical well being.

Many of us will attend support group meetings. Support groups are not for weaklings. The meetings are a safe place where we can share our feelings and love for our baby. Others who have been through similar experiences validate our feelings. These meetings give us comfort and hope for our future.

If we sound a little selfish, please understand. Only after we are able to adjust and experience the journey of grief can we reach out and help others. One day we will be able to live life in a fuller manner.

We try not to criticize others. Before our baby died, we didn’t understand the full impact this loss had. We want to share this painful experience with you so others can understand our need for support. No one will be able to take our pain away, but perhaps they can be there and listen.

National Share Office, St. Joseph Health Center, 300 First Capitol Drive, St. Charles, MO 63301 - Catherine Lammert, May 1999





SUPPORTING A GRIEVING FAMILY

How to Help:

1. Be supportive-Visit or call to say, "I care and want to help."
2. Treat the bereaved couple equally. Men need as much support as women.
3. Be available. Parents need direct help providing a meal, doing errands, and baby-sitting their other children.
4. Allow the parents to talk about their child; ask but don’t pry.
5. Learn about the grieving process. There are many books available.
6. Don't be afraid of reminding the parents about the child. They have never forgotten. Letting them know you remember is comforting.
7. Be liberal with touching a grieving parent. They often have a need for contact.

DO Say:

1. I'm sorry.
2. I'm so sad for your loss.
3. I know this must be terribly hard for you.
4. How are you managing all of this?
5. What can I do for you?
6. I'm here, and I want to listen.
7. Talk as long as you want. I have plenty of time.

DON’T Say:

1. It's all happened for the best.
2. You're young. You can have others.
3. Now you'll have an angel in heaven.
4. You're better off having this happen now, before you knew the baby.
5. This was God's way of saying something was wrong.
6. You should feel lucky that you are alive.
7. Forget it. Put it behind you and get on with your life.
8. I understand. (If you have not had a similar experience)

National Share Office, St. Joseph Health Center, 300 First Capitol Drive, St. Charles, MO. 63301 Catherine Lammert, National Share Office, May 1999





Typical Behaviors of Grief

1. Expressed frustration
a. Direct – could not see/hold the baby.
b. Indirect – picking clothing and other signs of restlessness and insomnia.
2. Bizarre searching
a. Playing with doll
b. Hearing the baby cry from the grave
c. Empty aching arms
i. Reaches intensity within 2-4 months
3. Preoccupation with experience
A. How they were treated during prenatal and delivery experience
4. Disorganized
a. Unable to accomplish ordinary activities
5. Residual anger
a. Anger focuses on spouse
b. Refusal to talk about the baby
c. Possible hostility toward to deceased

Signs of Normal Grief

1. Sighing, tightness of throat
2. Dullness of perception
3. Volatile emotions
a. A marked change in behavior or taking on the behavior of the deceased
b. Those who don’t cry need more attention
c. Feelings of guilt
d. Aloof – removed or distanced physically or emotionally

Reprinted with permission: National Share Office, St. Joseph Health Center, 300 First Capitol Drive, St. Charles, MO 63301 - May 1999