Tuesday, January 25, 2011

A Bereaved Parents Wish List

A friend sent me this list today. What do you think? I am posting it in hopes it will speak to someone and make them feel affirmed in their feelings.
I miss my kids.

(Came across this on the Facebook site of Gail Mahar.... Thought you might like)

A Bereaved Parent's Wish List
~Author Unknown~
I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had my child back.
I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my Childs name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that my child was important to you as well.

If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears.

You have talked about my child and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing my child’s pictures, artwork, or other remembrances from your home.

Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you more than ever.

I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.

I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know things through a phone call, a card or a note, or a real big hug.

I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.

I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that she is dead.

I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy". Neither will happen for very long times so don’t frustrate yourself.

I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and that I struggle daily.

I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.

I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.

I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. But I pray daily that you will never understand.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Twins Remembered

Dad, Mom, 2 yr old, and twins Georgia Haven and Jonas Emmanuel  
My friend has a little 2 year old girl, but also miscarried twins at about 8 weeks. Her family remembered them at Christmas with these adorable tiny stockings. I loved this idea! I wanted to share it with others for future memorials.
The twins were 'born' July 2, 2010. "Georgia Haven Allen and Jonas Emanuel Allen are deeply loved and terribly missed. We look forward to the blessed day when we will be reunited."-mom
Their due date was, ironically, my birthday: Feb 5. 
Thanks for sharing the great idea! We all who miss our own little angels are thinking of you during this time when they would have been full term. 

Christmas at the Graveyard

My good friend went with her family "up north" as we say in the Valley for a snow day for Christmas. I was so touched and appreciative that she stopped at the graveyard on her way home. She sent me these pictures. Said it had been snowing lightly that day in Rye and it only stuck on the graves. 

Thankyou! What a special thing, especially when I was craving being near their remains.

Thursday, January 6, 2011


     It's 11pm. I've just put my boy down in his bed. He was "up" past his bedtime. But he wasn't really up, was he? He was sound asleep on me. I love that. I love that he's on such a good schedule that I lay him down in his bed awake and he just goes to sleep softly on his own. There is no trauma, from me or me. But I love even more that when he's with his momma he can break all the rules and it's perfectly ok. He'll fall fast asleep on me and not care at all that he's "out late" and possibly not even in a comfortable position.
      I love that today as my step-dad was drilling into my tile there was horrific, ear-cracking racket and Trey didn't cry because I was holding him.
      I love that earlier tonight when I turned out the light in his room after changing him and the house was dark, he just tried to look through the darkness inquisitively, not at all afraid. Catch is, he's actually quite afraid of the dark. Hates it. We learned that on Halloween when we tried to sit outside and pass out candy with him and he would not stop crying until we took him in. He reinforces this night-fear fact when he screams in his carseat at night but not during the day. That's why it struck me after the diaper change - we were in the dark but he didn't care because he was sitting up on my arm, perfectly natural, happy.
     I love this kid. I love each and every scenario. What does this have to do with Jackson or Claire? Without them, I would not be able to experience life in this level. They ripped my heart out. Shredded it (sorry, kids, it's true). I have never been so broken. But as I bet other baby loss moms know, these special babies don't just take. They give you something back; a new and different heart. It processes life more deeply. It can hold more of others' sorrows. It can swell with pride or happiness for the raw, human parts of life. My new heart beats heartily for my baby Trey, and I am so thankful for him tonight.  I'm thankful to get a baby after the losses because I know what's important now, and I think it's helped me be a better mother than I was before. We have simplified. Continue to do so. We spend energy on the most important instead of least important things.
     What a special little guy. Does he know what he means to my family? If he could only remember life before he came he would see how much more angry and somber my son was, how erratic my daughter was. We ask our kids each day what is their favorite part of the day. Tonight my daughter said seeing Trey: "Of course that's my favorite part of every day- T-bone. He's so sweet!" Then she made funny noises to him and smiled and gushed all over him. He's like the ultimate cake topper to our family!

**Side note - last night I picked up a book we've had for years that my husband just took off the shelf to read. I read one page. There were two characters on the page. Can you guess their names? Jack and Claire. It was a coincidence maybe. But it was sweet for me. I love those babies. I felt a connection with them when I read that one page.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Trey is growing up!

I'm happy to report that for the first time in a long long time I feel happy! So happy each day to mother my boy. So happy to have him in our family, to see him light up my husband and kids with joy. I love my life. I love watching Trey, my miracle grow each day.
Of course, it still literally nauseates me to think of him choking on his cord, or of his brother and sister losing strength and health and dying inside me. I feel anger at the current OB world that won't recognize or research cord related deaths. I have to push out feelings of ache for my angel babies because wanting them here with me will only make me sick, since that is one wish I can not have.
But honestly, what a distraction caring for Trey is. I see his siblings in him each day and love on him more since I can't love on them. I love my boy!!!!