which means it is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. Which also means that there are many beautiful ways to bring awareness to the reality that way too many families suffer the tragedy of untimely loss of their dearest little ones. We are 1 in 4.
This year I'd like to participate in the Capture Your Grief project again. I am feeling motivated to participate because journaling is cathartic for me but I don't feel like the public eye of social media this time around. I feel more comfortable with my tiny gathering here at my (lately abandoned) simple blog.
~October 1st: Sunrise~
I did not pay attention to the sunrise on this day. I was working because life has moved on. I spend every week being a mom to Bodey, a wife to Heath and a physical therapist to my patients that need restoration and rehabilitation in their lives. I am honored to do the work that I do and am grateful that I have such a meaningful place to spend my time during the work week. So I missed the sunrise and I didn't pay any attention to the start of this meaningful month of awareness until I saw my dear friends posting their awareness pictures. I was so happy to see friends sharing pictures and words that they have never shared before. I have never had difficulty writing or sharing my words, it is actually therapy for me and my saving grace after losing Millie. But it is amazing how it can take some mothers years to work through the words and the courage it takes to share this very personal journey. I am grateful for these mothers and these friends and the gift of "I know" that we get to share in this otherwise lonely side of motherhood.
~October 2: Purpose~
Why am I participating this year? Because I need to write, because I need a reason to write, I need a subject to write on and focusing on Millie feels really right, right now. It has been a long painful 1+ year and I need to work through some of the hurt I've experienced as a result of trying to save a marriage after the loss of our first child and the painful challenges of raising a healthy child after said loss. I don't know if I will make it through every day of the CYG project and I'm sure I won't be able to share as much detail as exists, so forgive me if I'm elusive in my content, but I know that this story will be written in it's entirety someday. The story just isn't over yet so it can't be written until then.
~October 3: Essence~
Who is she? What is her name? What is the meaning of her name? Well she is my oldest child, my first born, my only daughter. She is a special connection to my birth order...an oldest child, an oldest daughter. She is quiet, content, beautiful, strong, impactful. She is named Millie Clara after the two strongest women that influenced mine and my husband's lives, our paternal grandmothers. Millie named after my father-in-law's mother, Alma Millie, and Clara after my father's mother, Shirley Clara. Her name is incredibly special, especially since she has now spent more time with both of those women than she ever did with us. I feel comforted that she had this incredible connection to her family the moment she entered heaven's gates. Her name is forever engraved in my heart and on my arm in the crook of my forearm where she rested her sweet head and I cradled her little bottom as she hugged my chest. Her name is forever scribed on my arm in the handwriting of the special women she is named after. My connect to all 3 will never leave me and I am stronger because of them all.
~October 4: Today~
Where is my grief today? Ugh, I'm triggered and traumatized still. I am triggered by pregnancy and healthy babies and pain over the shape of my family. It is not what I want, it is not how it should be. It is unfair and excruciating. It is unending and unyielding. It is reality and unlike anything I've ever known to exist to any other family. It is lonely and isolating. It feels like a wilderness and the path to walk in it feels deserted by every single being. Yet even though there is no person on this path with me, God is. He leads me, He sustains me in my hurt, He reminds me that I am loved, He reminds me that I am not forgotten, He reminds me that He shares in my pain, He reminds me that I will experience my family in all its' beauty some day. He reminds to keep leaning into Him and know that He knows me and He will get me there no matter how much it hurts here in the wilderness.
~October 5: Ritual~
I don't have many. I carry her name on my skin, tattooed for all to see and for the brave to inquire about. I always honor her place in my family. I share my testimony about how her presence, her illness and how the possibility of her succumbing to her illness saved me. I delight in butterflies but don't rely on them. I visit her grave when I can. I look forward to people honoring and remembering her at Christmas time with the RACK tradition my sister, Jenny, started. I love her endlessly. Her picture is present throughout our home and I catch glimpses of her in the homes of loved ones. I continue to keep the journal I started for her while I was pregnant with her. Every spring I plant a flower garden for her. I watch her magnolia tree grow and blossom in our front yard.
~October 6: Healing~
Healing is so very, very complicated and influenced by so many different factors. Factors can include previous experiences with tragedy, coping skills, family and community support, financial freedom or restriction, societal and cultural patterns. I have been so grateful for so many factors that have influenced my healing in a very positive way. When I was a preteen I suffered from many challenging feelings and conflicts as my growing awareness of the world around me confused me and overwhelmed me in so many ways. During that time I found that writing was the outlet that allowed me to release the pent-up negative and anxious feelings that I was experiencing. It would allow me to review my feelings and establish strategies for overcoming when needed. This skill absolutely carried me through my periods of grief from the time we learned Millie was sick, through her passing, in the uncomfortable transition to parenthood without a living child, then pregnancy after loss and parenting after loss, as well as the struggles in my marriage and the growth of my faith. At least 95% of what I write is entirely private but it helps me to organize the jumble in my mind and heart and lay order to it all. Furthermore, I have been incredibly blessed with the most supportive parents, sisters, in-laws and extended families on both sides. There was never a single moment where anyone doubted our choices or fought us in our decisions (other than a single incident at the visitation). We always had watchful, loving eyes and actions surrounding us to make sure we were being taken care of and managing our grief in a healthy way. The grief of this loss is tremendously lonely and all of the ways in which I have felt connected to others--whether it is family that experienced a version of loss themselves or other parents of loss who know the exact grief to parents of sick children or adults who lost another prominent person in their lives--has been a well-spring for my broken heart. Compassion and willingness of others to reach in and offer connection has been incredibly helpful. Furthermore, my faith in God has carried me in ways I never expected because I never knew a relationship with God before Millie. I now know that He grieves with me, He is not punishing me, He has my daughter in a safe and beautiful place, I will see her again, He has goodness planned for me, He loves me and He cares for me. Even if I have moments where I feel completely alone in this world and that there is not one single person in this world that will understand how I feel, I know that He does. He comforts me and meets me right where I am and never lets me get close to giving up.
~October 7: Wisdom~
How do you help walk with a loved one that has experienced a loss like this? Simple...walk with them. Be there. Lean in. Ask questions that make you uncomfortable because our culture around grief is awkward and you being uncomfortable does not trump what the parent is going through and will mean so much more to them when you reach through your discomfort to meet them in the middle of their pain and loneliness. Don't pretend you get it or offer grand advise unless you have specifically been through it yourself. But listen to their heart and hear what it is that they are not saying, reach into that void and grab ahold of the thing they are needing to bring a voice to. Most likely it is acknowledging their child, their child's name, their child's place in the family and all the millions of ways and times that they will be missed. Don't ignore the hard stuff, the confusing stuff, the I-have-no-clue stuff and ask honest questions about the things you don't have a clue about. Admit that you are clueless and feel helpless but want to do whatever you can to offer love and companionship. This will look different for every parent experiencing loss and the type of relationship that you have with that person but dig in on a level that is consistent with your closeness in relationship. Be as honest as possible but also be prepared to face hurt, pain, rejection, discomfort and awkwardness but know that it will pass and the risk to burning a bridge with this person is much less likely when you lean in rather than if you completely avoid them and/or the subject of their greatest loss. Don't let them assume the blame or apologize for any awkwardness or discomfort caused, own your motive of love and compassion, especially if it seemed to miss the mark. When you do this you may not receive positive confirmation about your efforts and you may really wonder if you did the right thing but my wisdom tells me that when the parent is ready they will indeed express their gratitude to you despite however they initially reacted to you.
For example, today my mom, sister and youngest niece went to an event, 800 miles away from me, to honor and remember children lost in pregnancy or as infants. They did not tell me they were going to this event, they did not ask me if I was okay with it, they did not shy away from awkwardness. They added her name to the kite that will be flown during the Walk to Remember, they walked with her name tagged to my niece, they took pictures and sent them to me later. They leaned in out of love and compassion to honor their granddaughter and niece, for themselves and for me (and for my husband). This walk in grief isn't just limited to the parents, it greatly impacts siblings, grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins that have all lost a bond and relationship that they too anticipated growing into. So my next bit of wisdom is to extend my previous recommendations out to any relative of a young child lost too soon. Know that they are grieving too and your loving kindness will mean the world to them as well.
~October 3: Essence~
Who is she? What is her name? What is the meaning of her name? Well she is my oldest child, my first born, my only daughter. She is a special connection to my birth order...an oldest child, an oldest daughter. She is quiet, content, beautiful, strong, impactful. She is named Millie Clara after the two strongest women that influenced mine and my husband's lives, our paternal grandmothers. Millie named after my father-in-law's mother, Alma Millie, and Clara after my father's mother, Shirley Clara. Her name is incredibly special, especially since she has now spent more time with both of those women than she ever did with us. I feel comforted that she had this incredible connection to her family the moment she entered heaven's gates. Her name is forever engraved in my heart and on my arm in the crook of my forearm where she rested her sweet head and I cradled her little bottom as she hugged my chest. Her name is forever scribed on my arm in the handwriting of the special women she is named after. My connect to all 3 will never leave me and I am stronger because of them all.
~October 4: Today~
Where is my grief today? Ugh, I'm triggered and traumatized still. I am triggered by pregnancy and healthy babies and pain over the shape of my family. It is not what I want, it is not how it should be. It is unfair and excruciating. It is unending and unyielding. It is reality and unlike anything I've ever known to exist to any other family. It is lonely and isolating. It feels like a wilderness and the path to walk in it feels deserted by every single being. Yet even though there is no person on this path with me, God is. He leads me, He sustains me in my hurt, He reminds me that I am loved, He reminds me that I am not forgotten, He reminds me that He shares in my pain, He reminds me that I will experience my family in all its' beauty some day. He reminds to keep leaning into Him and know that He knows me and He will get me there no matter how much it hurts here in the wilderness.
~October 5: Ritual~
I don't have many. I carry her name on my skin, tattooed for all to see and for the brave to inquire about. I always honor her place in my family. I share my testimony about how her presence, her illness and how the possibility of her succumbing to her illness saved me. I delight in butterflies but don't rely on them. I visit her grave when I can. I look forward to people honoring and remembering her at Christmas time with the RACK tradition my sister, Jenny, started. I love her endlessly. Her picture is present throughout our home and I catch glimpses of her in the homes of loved ones. I continue to keep the journal I started for her while I was pregnant with her. Every spring I plant a flower garden for her. I watch her magnolia tree grow and blossom in our front yard.
~October 6: Healing~
Healing is so very, very complicated and influenced by so many different factors. Factors can include previous experiences with tragedy, coping skills, family and community support, financial freedom or restriction, societal and cultural patterns. I have been so grateful for so many factors that have influenced my healing in a very positive way. When I was a preteen I suffered from many challenging feelings and conflicts as my growing awareness of the world around me confused me and overwhelmed me in so many ways. During that time I found that writing was the outlet that allowed me to release the pent-up negative and anxious feelings that I was experiencing. It would allow me to review my feelings and establish strategies for overcoming when needed. This skill absolutely carried me through my periods of grief from the time we learned Millie was sick, through her passing, in the uncomfortable transition to parenthood without a living child, then pregnancy after loss and parenting after loss, as well as the struggles in my marriage and the growth of my faith. At least 95% of what I write is entirely private but it helps me to organize the jumble in my mind and heart and lay order to it all. Furthermore, I have been incredibly blessed with the most supportive parents, sisters, in-laws and extended families on both sides. There was never a single moment where anyone doubted our choices or fought us in our decisions (other than a single incident at the visitation). We always had watchful, loving eyes and actions surrounding us to make sure we were being taken care of and managing our grief in a healthy way. The grief of this loss is tremendously lonely and all of the ways in which I have felt connected to others--whether it is family that experienced a version of loss themselves or other parents of loss who know the exact grief to parents of sick children or adults who lost another prominent person in their lives--has been a well-spring for my broken heart. Compassion and willingness of others to reach in and offer connection has been incredibly helpful. Furthermore, my faith in God has carried me in ways I never expected because I never knew a relationship with God before Millie. I now know that He grieves with me, He is not punishing me, He has my daughter in a safe and beautiful place, I will see her again, He has goodness planned for me, He loves me and He cares for me. Even if I have moments where I feel completely alone in this world and that there is not one single person in this world that will understand how I feel, I know that He does. He comforts me and meets me right where I am and never lets me get close to giving up.
~October 7: Wisdom~
How do you help walk with a loved one that has experienced a loss like this? Simple...walk with them. Be there. Lean in. Ask questions that make you uncomfortable because our culture around grief is awkward and you being uncomfortable does not trump what the parent is going through and will mean so much more to them when you reach through your discomfort to meet them in the middle of their pain and loneliness. Don't pretend you get it or offer grand advise unless you have specifically been through it yourself. But listen to their heart and hear what it is that they are not saying, reach into that void and grab ahold of the thing they are needing to bring a voice to. Most likely it is acknowledging their child, their child's name, their child's place in the family and all the millions of ways and times that they will be missed. Don't ignore the hard stuff, the confusing stuff, the I-have-no-clue stuff and ask honest questions about the things you don't have a clue about. Admit that you are clueless and feel helpless but want to do whatever you can to offer love and companionship. This will look different for every parent experiencing loss and the type of relationship that you have with that person but dig in on a level that is consistent with your closeness in relationship. Be as honest as possible but also be prepared to face hurt, pain, rejection, discomfort and awkwardness but know that it will pass and the risk to burning a bridge with this person is much less likely when you lean in rather than if you completely avoid them and/or the subject of their greatest loss. Don't let them assume the blame or apologize for any awkwardness or discomfort caused, own your motive of love and compassion, especially if it seemed to miss the mark. When you do this you may not receive positive confirmation about your efforts and you may really wonder if you did the right thing but my wisdom tells me that when the parent is ready they will indeed express their gratitude to you despite however they initially reacted to you.
For example, today my mom, sister and youngest niece went to an event, 800 miles away from me, to honor and remember children lost in pregnancy or as infants. They did not tell me they were going to this event, they did not ask me if I was okay with it, they did not shy away from awkwardness. They added her name to the kite that will be flown during the Walk to Remember, they walked with her name tagged to my niece, they took pictures and sent them to me later. They leaned in out of love and compassion to honor their granddaughter and niece, for themselves and for me (and for my husband). This walk in grief isn't just limited to the parents, it greatly impacts siblings, grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins that have all lost a bond and relationship that they too anticipated growing into. So my next bit of wisdom is to extend my previous recommendations out to any relative of a young child lost too soon. Know that they are grieving too and your loving kindness will mean the world to them as well.
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