It’s taken me months to start and finish this post. I tend to keep things relatively private online but in the end, I decided I needed to write to help my personal healing and if just one person finds this helpful, it will be enough.

“When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.”-President Ronald Regan

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month and today, October 15, is the International Day of Remembrance . This summer, Kevin and I lost our firstborn son Sebastian. It. Hurts. Sebastian was so prayed for, prayed over--losing him was unexpected and emotionally debilitating. 

I cannot explain the feeling of seeing you son’s heartbeat and his limbs move after he’s born but knowing he won’t live long. Of looking at his face and realizing he looks exactly like his father down to his big ‘ole feet. Of feeling like your body failed you because your baby was healthy and developing normally. Of being visibly pregnant one day, and not pregnant the next—but without your baby in your arms. The pain of choosing your child’s urn. Of proof reading his death certificate. Developing triggers where I had none- avoiding newborns and pregnant women. I could go on and on. This loss drove me to therapy.

I am always surprised when people tell me that I “look good.” I feel like a ghost of my former self. People see me and think I am ok. But I know I am not. I am not sure when I will be. I remember saying “I just want to be my old self” and the counselor sadly replying “You’ll never be that person again.” I see the changes in myself--I’m not as witty, I’m quieter & more risk averse. I know my smiles don’t often reach my eyes anymore.  I have grieved plenty of times before but this a unique pain.

I know that I am blessed with a great husband, amazing parents and family, friends, and colleagues who show up and check up on me.  However, being grateful does not diminish my feelings and so often people think that it should. My husband and I are both grateful for what we have but we’re still hurting.

I wanted to write this to create a space for other women who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant loss. So many women shared their stories with me, from family members to the nurses who cared for me. I draw strength from their stories but I realized that so many women and families don’t talk about infant death. It’s whispered about in the dark and nobody wants other people to know this has happened to them. Well it happened to me. I am among the less than 3% of women who experience a second-trimester loss. Searching for a community I met women who had lost multiples, 35+ week babies due to cord accidents, premature babies and women who were suffering from secondary infertility and multiple miscarriages. It is estimated that 1 in 4 women experience a pregnancy loss but it’s a stat too few people know.

I read a quote about a grief once that said “just when you think you’ve closed the door on grief, it will knock on your window.” Parents have told me that they never get over the sorrow of losing their child but they learn to live with the grief. Grief is a passenger in my life. Here are some things I have found helpful.

1. Find a support group

Individual therapy is great but the benefits of group therapy are unique. 

There is something unbelievably healing and freeing when talking to families who are going through the exact same thing at the same time. Family and friends will offer support and kind words, but the women in group therapy understand my journey in ways other people simply do not.  

In group therapy I don’t have to wear a mask. They understand why I want to yell at doctors, my guilt, illogical thoughts and my fears because they have the exact same feelings. In many ways they know more about me than many of my close friends.

I highly recommend both you and your partner attend. My husband was the only man the first day of group therapy but other husbands started to come once they realized they were welcome. Hearing the other husbands talk about their grief helped me understand my husband’s feelings better.

If you’re in the DC, MD, VA area I can put you in contact with the coordinators.

2. Start Journaling

A mom in group therapy gave me this suggestion and it has been very helpful. My first few entries were written to my son. I had lost him but I had so much I wanted to say to him so I wrote to him as if he were besides me.

I write to release my anger and frustration. There are times when I don’t really want to talk to anybody and want to be alone--but I have all of these thoughts racing through my mind. Journaling is a healthy conduit for these feelings.

3. Be kind to yourself

Let’s be honest, in America we don’t talk about death. People get awkward and weird and there’s a lack of sensitivity and you, as the grieving party, are expected to put on a smile to make other people feel less awkward or uncomfortable. I don’t do that and I don’t suggest you do it either. Sometimes we need to dwell in the uncomfortable. There is growth there.

I also do not do anything I do not feel like doing. There are plenty of times I committed to do something because I thought I could handle it emotionally but it turns out I could not. One of my biggest regrets was going on this trip with friends that we had committed to before we lost Bash. The trip was in a cabin in the woods and I thought it’d be good to “escape.”  But both couples on the trip had kids. I was fine with the little girl but the other couple had an absolutely adorable baby boy, who I thought I could avoid. Unfortunately for me, he was the friendliest and cutest baby ever. At one point,I was like “how can I kidnap this white baby and pretend he’s mine?” (j/k) But it was really hard being around him and happy parents. After a point, I hide in my room, avoided everyone including my husband, wrote in my journal and watched Snapped re-runs. My friends understood and I didn’t apologize. Like Dr. Suess said “Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”

After that weekend, I learned I needed to avoid situations that are emotionally damaging and will only set me back. I have muted and unfollowed a lot of bloggers I used to follow because they’re pregnant. When I am ready to follow them again, I will but I need to focus on my healing.  This is the time to be selfish.

Recommended Books: Couple Communication After a Baby Dies: Differing Perspectives (my husband really enjoyed this one); Empty Arms: Hope and Support for Those Who Have Suffered a Miscarriage, Stillbirth, or Tubal Pregnancy.

Lastly, I leave you with this poem from The Prophet that I read over and over:

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.