2012

I saw this on Facebook today and I couldn't have "said" it better myself. :)

Hurtful vs. Helpful

I got a great resource from Missing Grace when we lost Hannah called, "Hurtful and Helpful Things People Say and Do." In the beginning, it was nice to have so we could anticipate some of the things people might say in an effort to be comforting (although, some of the most hurtful things we heard weren't even on the list). And it was interesting to read through them because I think a lot of things on the hurtful list seem like reasonable things to say until you have experienced a loss. I have probably said one or two of them, not realizing JUST how hurtful they actually are when you're in the middle of grief.
A friend of mine just asked about what to say in a hard situation, and I shared this list with her. And then I thought, "Everyone needs to read this!"

Hurtful and Helpful Things People Say and Do
(Written by facilitators and bereaved parents who are members of GRACE Support Groups--www.MissingGRACE.org--All Rights Missing GRACE Foundation)

HURTFUL
"He/She is in a better place." The parents feel their loving home was a very good place to raise their child and their arms are aching for their baby now.
"It's God's will." Many bereaved parents hold the belief it was not God's will to have their baby die and they feel it's a tragedy that happened in a world where bad things can happen to good people and feel God did not cause it to happen. To say it is God's will may also imply this is God's judgment on the parents.
"God has a plan and it was His perfect plan for this to happen. All things work together for his good." Right now, the situation is not good and it is hard to see that good things could come of this tragedy. Let them discover on their own the blessings that may come over time.
"At least you have other children." The child they lost still had a special place in their life and is gone now and no other child can replace or fill that void.
"At least it wasn't a 'real' baby." (in reference to ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage)
"At least you weren't that far along." The moment they found out they were pregnant with that baby they began to love it, and they wish they had been able to get farther along to deliver their baby.
"At least you didn't get attached." Oh, but they were very attached.
"If it's not perfect, you don't want it." The parent felt their baby was perfect and no matter what health issue it had, they wanted the baby in their lives.
"It's not meant to be."
"Everything happens for a reason." Right now it is hard to make sense of this and find a good reason.
"You can have another one." Maybe they can, but maybe due to issues you are unaware of or they are unaware of they can't have another. Either way that sounds a long way off and it doesn't help now.
To ignore what happened and not say anything at all. To act like things are normal/fine.
"If your baby lived, then maybe he/she would have been bad or unhealthy so God took him/her."
Calling the baby "it." Not referring to the baby by his or her name.
Bringing up the loss of a pet or someone else's death as if to say it is a similar type of pain or experience. Each situation is unique and the grief is personal.
Expressing an attitude that parents should be over their loss by a set time. Bereaved parents don't get over their babies. They take steps forward in grief and find ways to carry on the memory of their child. They have a need to honor and remember their baby throughout life. Life after loss often requires finding a new normal. Strangers can become friends and friends can become strangers. The length of the grieving process is different for everyone.

HELPFUL
To say: "I don't know what to say, but I'm so sorry. We are thinking of you and praying.
To acknowledge your own ignorance.
To send cards or forms of acknowledgment on anniversaries and/or out of the blue.
To give delayed acknowledgment vs. none at all.
To say their baby's name and talk about their baby.
To share that you are going to honor and commemorate their baby in some way.
To provide opportunities for parents to talk about their baby and their feelings.
To leave the door open for the parents to join you for events such as parties and showers but not pressure them or guilt them when they decline. Support them in their decisions.
Bring up your own infant loss if you have had one and be available to discuss your pain.
Offer to help them in daily life through the months after a loss: bring meals, clean house, watch other living children, giving the parents a chance to be alone, mow the lawn, shovel snow, run errands, send them for a massage or pampering.

Merry Christmas, Hannah!

Sunshine

My dear baby, how we would have loved singing to you.

I'm crabby

It is NOT the most wonderful time of the year.

Not this year, anyway.

Everything just feels wrong this year. I usually love Christmas and love the weeks leading up to it. Shopping and decorating and baking. But all of those things have felt like chores this year. All I really want to do is crawl up in bed and emerge sometime in April. Think I could get away with that?

I should have a big, round, pregnant belly right now. I pictured myself pregnant at Christmas. And since I have another March baby (Jack), I could actually imagine exactly HOW pregnant I would look and feel.

There should be freaking SNOW on the ground. It looks like September outside, for crying out loud. I'd like at least a little something to clue me into the fact that it's December. (But, of course, once January hits, I'd like the snow to continue to stay away).

I should be mourning the fact that I can't have an alcoholic drink on Christmas Eve, not mourning the fact that I AM able to drink this year.

There should be a baby kicking and flipping inside my body. There should be baby things collecting in our unborn baby's crib, not mementos of our stillborn daughter.

This is going to be a long week.

My Mimi

Hannah got to meet her great grandmother yesterday! My sweet Mimi, four days shy of her 94th birthday, went home to be with the Lord. She had seven children, 17 grandchildren, and ten great grandchildren. Quite the legacy!

There are so many things I remember about Mimi. She lived in Connecticut, so we only saw her when we traveled there every few years or when she came to Minnesota once in a while. When we visited her in Connecticut, I distinctly remember Frosted Flakes for breakfast and lots of The Price is Right. :)

She also taught me how to swear. Well, maybe not exactly on purpose. ;) But I remember mom blaming Mimi when she heard me swear for the first time. ("Where the hell did you get those shoes?")

Sadly, Mimi dealt with dementia for the last year or so of her life. I haven't seen her since Jack was about 18 months old, but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have even recognized me if I'd seen her more recently. And for that, I am so thankful that she is in a better place. No more confusion, pain, or frustration.

Psalm 116:15
Precious in the sight of the Lord
is the death of his faithful servants.

Margaret Marie Berube
December 17, 1917 - December 13, 2011

Peace

This is our pastor's sermon from this morning. If you have 40 minutes, I'd highly recommend it. I'm planning on watching it again. And then maybe again. :)

http://vimeo.com/33495865

one month

My dear sweet Hannah,

Darling girl. I really wish I was writing this to document your first month here on earth. Instead, I am marking one month since you entered heaven and changed our world forever. And you have taught me so much in that one short month!

You have taught me that even in the midst of our worst nightmare, it wasn't impossible to feel the distinctive peace of God. And it truly was and is the peace that passes all understanding. Because I certainly don't understand how I can feel peace when I have lost you, my precious baby. But that peace has been there from the moment the ultrasound tech left the room and we knew that our lives were about to change forever. Even in the midst of crying and screaming and being really mad that we had to go through this, God was there. And he was the same in the middle of the nightmare as he was before we found out that you'd left us.

You have taught me how very precious my children are, whether or not they are here on this earth where I get to see them and hug them every day. And you've taught me that it is possible to love someone SO MUCH, even when I have never known them alive outside of me. I've always felt an inexplicable love toward my children as soon as I knew they were growing inside of me. How could I love someone so deeply before I had even seen or met them? And then to lay eyes on them after delivery! Being pregnant with you was such a different experience than with Jack and Leah because halfway through, we knew their genders. We decided to keep yours a surprise until delivery. And we WERE so surprised. I guess I thought you were going to be a boy. I didn't realize how much I thought that until you came out--I was so shocked that you were a girl! But now, after a month of knowing and missing you, I can't believe we didn't always know you were a girl. My precious, precious baby girl. :)

I miss you so much, Hannah. I love having pictures and videos of you, but I still want to hold you every day. There is some comfort that we know you're in heaven and we'll see you again, and that you never had to know the pain of this world. But I'd still rather have you here. Your brother and sister and daddy miss you too.

Love you, sweet girl.
Mommy

Hannah Bear

We decided to take a trip to the Build-a-Bear workshop this afternoon to make a Hannah Bear. :) I wanted to find or make little things to put inside the bear when we stuffed. So Jack drew a few little pictures.

I wrote some verses and her name with its meaning. I also found a heart that I wanted to put inside.

Dan found a verse that he carries around sometimes and wrote a note on the back.

Here's the bear we picked!

And time to stuff her. :)

Putting our treasures inside.

And giving her a "bath."

And plenty of hugs and kisses!

This was an idea I had shortly after we lost Hannah, but I went back and forth about doing it. I'm so glad we did, though! The kids LOVED it and they love having "baby Hannah" in our house.

Blah

"Today was a difficult day.

Tomorrow will be better."
-Kevin Henkes, Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse

I just wish I actually believed that tomorrow was going to be better.
Especially since it's midnight and I'm still awake....

Her name in the sand

Shortly after we lost Hannah, in the slew of websites that I came across, I found one called "Names in the Sand." It is a project that a woman in Australia started after her son was stillborn. In the last three years, she has written nearly 13,000 names in the sand. So I added Hannah's information to the waiting list and assumed it would take a while. I checked on it a couple of times, though, and the list seemed to be moving pretty quickly. Sure enough, I got an email tonight that they'd written Hannah's name. You can see the whole entry here, but here's the picture.

I love it.

Held

Last night before bed, I was reading through the pile of cards we've gotten in the last three weeks. It's just something I do once in a while. :) There was one card that said "I have prayed that while you are down, you'll remember whose almighty hand you are in." Great reminder. And we're so grateful that God didn't just carry us through the first couple of days and then say, "Okay, it looks like you've got it from here. See you later!" We are LIVING in his hands right now. And I am not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

The card reminded me of this song, so I want to share the video. It's kind of dramatic and stereotypical of a 90s Christian music video (even though it was made in like 2005). Just listen to it without watching if that's distracting. ;) Anyway, I love a few of the lyrics enough to point out.

"Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing."
Great (and painful) reminder that this grief is going to be a journey. Even though people will go on with their lives around us, we will be in it for a while. I know that healing WILL come. Just not immediately.

"This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive."
Before we lost Hannah, our situation would have been one that I'd hear about and say, "I don't know how I'd survive if that happened to me." And then it did. And we survived. It's just one of those things that you don't know how you're going to get through until you HAVE to.

"The promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held."
In the days following Hannah's death, it did seem like everything around us was crumbling. Just stupid stuff, too. The enemy knew we were vulnerable and decided to kick us while we were down. But even in the midst of ALL of that, when we weren't sure how or when we'd be able to stand up again, he was still holding us.

Happy Thanksgiving

Psalm 31:19 How great is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you, which you bestow in the sight of men on those who take refuge in you.

Three weeks ago, it was hard to think about the approaching holidays, particularly Thanksgiving. I couldn't think of what I had to be thankful for in the middle of such pain. But obviously I have a lot to be thankful for. God is good, and even in the midst of grief, his goodness is so evident.

So even though I don't understand why things happen the way they do, I choose to give thanks. And not just today. :)

***I have to add to this post this morning. Before bed last night, I decided to read the Message version of the verse above and I loved it. "What a stack of blessing you have piled up for those who worship you, ready and waiting for all who run to you to escape an unkind world." A STACK of blessing. Love that!

Hannah's video

As I mentioned in Hannah's story, we had an amazing ministry called Missing Grace who blessed us so deeply while we were in the hospital. They took pictures and video and just really honored Hannah. Well, when I went to the support group tonight, I got my DVD of all of the pictures and video clips, along with a video montage that they put together. And it's amazing, so I want to share it here. Please know that I realize not everyone will want to watch this. And that is really okay. But I also don't want to assume who does and doesn't want to watch it, so it's easier just to post it here and let you all decide. :)

WARNING: The following video contains images of a deceased baby, which may be disturbing to some viewers.

http://vimeo.com/32556041

We are not alone

Ever since I had Hannah, people with similar stories have seemingly come out of the woodwork. And it's so bittersweet. So comforting to know that we're not alone. But so sad to know that so many other people know this pain. Because no one should know what this feels like.

Tonight I went to the support group at Missing Grace. Dan wasn't feeling well, but I knew our friends Leah and Gary would be there, so I went by myself. It was so good to see Candy again and see their amazing facility. And I got to meet other women and couples who have experienced loss. From early miscarriage to second trimester loss to full term loss to SIDS. Amazing stories.

It was a little daunting to walk into a room of strangers to share my story and seek support. But I realized very quickly that these people were not going to be strangers for long. We all share a very heartbreaking bond and have so much to offer to each other. And I am very excited to get to know them all better as we continue to attend the group.

Too good not to share

Dan found this blog post by John Eldredge the other day. I especially love that it was written on Hannah's birthday. :)

Loving Jesus in the Pain

This has been a tough year for me. A year with a lot of suffering.

Both Stasi and I have been through a lot of physical affliction. There were accidents. Betrayals. My father died this year. On top of this, my friends have been suffering. A year with a lot of pain in it.

And there is nothing like suffering to wreak havoc in your relationship with God. The damage pain does to our relationship with Jesus is often far, far worse than the pain itself.

Every time I turned to Jesus in the midst of one episode of heartache then another, every single time I turned to him, the first thing he would say was, "Love me." At first it surprised me - aren't you supposed to say You loveme? I'm the one who's hurting here. But somehow, instinctively, I knew what he meant, knew what he was after. "Love me now, in this - not for this, but in this." And those words have been a rescue.

Here's why: Pain causes us to pull away from God. At the very moment we need him most, we pull back. Our soul withdraws, like a snail into its shell. Then you not only have the heartache, you have "lost" God for awhile too. Desolation on top of suffering. Sometimes it takes months, even years to recover the relationship. Jesus was rescuing me from that cycle by telling me to love him now, right in the midst of the pain.

On a soul level, when I love God in this place, it opens my heart and soul back up to him right where I need him most, right in the center of the pain. Too often what we cry out for is understanding - "why, God?" But I've learned over the years that when you are in the midst of the suffering, you don't often get understanding, and frankly, you don't need understanding - you need God.

And so dear friends I wanted to pass this along to you, for it has been a great help to me. Love Jesus, right there, right in the midst of the pain. Just start telling him you love him, right where you are hurting. For as you do, it enables your heart to open back up to him, it enables him to come to you in this very place. And it is Jesus that we need. Desperately.

Posted by John Eldredge 11/05/2011

Do I HAVE to?

Christmas is always really exciting for me. I love Christmas music, I love shopping for Christmas gifts, and I LOVE decorating my house.

This year just feels different. It feels harder to get into the spirit of things.

I've usually at least gotten my outside lights up by now, but I've pretty much come to terms with the fact that those might just not happen this year (unless I feel really motivated on Thanksgiving--I hear it's going to be 52 degrees!). And honestly, it doesn't take me more than an hour once I start. It's just not something I feel like doing if I ever happen upon an extra hour in my day.

The rest of the house is normally decorated in the week or so after Thanksgiving. But that's already next week! I'm not ready for that! I have to say, if it wasn't for Jack and Leah, I'd probably just skip the tree altogether this year. It's just too much work for something that doesn't feel as exciting as it usually does.

As for shopping, well everything so far has been done online. But that's just being smart. I mean, free shipping from Amazon if you spend at least $25? Who would deal with the malls when that's your alternative? :)

Good thing that Christmas happens regardless of my mood! And really, good thing that God chose to send his Son regardless of how the world felt about it.

Never Once

To say that the last two weeks have been difficult would be putting it lightly. But as I lay in bed last night crying (that seems to be my crying time), I thought about how evident God's hand has been in the midst of the pain. From day one, really. And for that, I am so grateful.

Laying on that ultrasound table, the minute the tech walked out of the room I broke down. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. She knew why we were there. If she had seen a heartbeat, she would have said SOMETHING to ease my anxiety instead of just taking measurements for 5 minutes silently. As soon as she left and I started crying, Dan took my hand and prayed. I can't remember much of what he said in the midst of my crying, but I do remember that he asked God to bring peace. And He did. The rest of that day was filled with many tears and frustration, but in the midst of all of that was an inexplicable peace.

After the ultrasound, we met with my midwife. And after explaining some things, she shared about her own loss and said that this was just a very small part of a bigger picture. And the bigger picture is something that we can't see fully right now. And again, even though I was so devastated, that was comforting. God sees the whole picture. I don't need to. He is still God, even in the middle of my nightmare. Jesus is the same now as he was the morning of my appointment when I still thought everything was fine. God had bigger plans for Hannah--plans that didn't include life on this earth. And while most days I am really mad about that, God reminds me that His ways are way better than my own. And while I'd rather NOT be used by God in this way, I don't really have a choice!

Shortly after Hannah was born, I rediscovered a Matt Redman song and bought his newest album, 10,000 Reasons. It was mostly for the one song, but the whole album is really great. The song is "Never Once." And even two weeks into this journey, I know that the words are true now and will be for the rest of our lives. We are NOT in this alone. He hasn't just dumped us on the side of the road to figure things out for ourselves. He is walking this road with us, carrying us when we can't walk any longer. Sometimes it definitely feels like we're walking alone, but that's when I thank the Lord for his promises. "The Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." (Deut 31:6)

I read

A lot. There's always something on my nightstand. Generally it's something for book club or just for fun. But I also read a lot to help me process stuff. And that's where I am right now. I actually tried to start my latest book club pick a couple of days after I had Hannah. Yeah, that was not happening. I'm sure it's a great book, but I decided that it's too hard for me to read about something other than grief and loss right now. It's just where my brain goes anyway, so getting into a different book was too hard.

My friend Leah went through a similar situation about a year ago and lost her sweet boy Isaiah at 20 weeks. I was able to talk to her after our fateful ultrasound and before induction. And both she and her husband Gary have been so wonderful to Dan and me in these weeks. Anyway, about a week and a half ago, I got a book in the mail. I had just gotten an email from Leah saying that she had ordered a book for me and that it might come that day. What a gift!

The book is I Will Carry You: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy by Angie Smith (you'll see a link to her blog over there somewhere >>>>>>>). Angie is the wife of Todd Smith of the group Selah. After enduring a miscarriage and going on to have twin girls and another girl, they found themselves pregnant again. At 18 weeks, they found out that their fourth baby girl, Audrey, had multiple complications that were "not compatible with life." Her heart didn't have four chambers, her kidneys were failing, etc. It was recommended that they terminate the pregnancy at that point, but they decided to carry Audrey as long as they could. She was born at around 30 weeks and lived for 2 1/2 hours.

I finished the book last night, and I feel like I need to read it again. And then maybe again. There is just so much to absorb and I know I didn't do it completely the first time through. To read Angie's thoughts and struggles, but also her faith and trust in God, is truly amazing. And inspiring for someone like me in the beginning of this journey.

Next on the reading schedule (if I DON'T pick up I Will Carry You again right away) is Henri Nouwen's Turn My Mourning into Dancing: Finding Hope in Hard Times. Angie actually references this book a few times in I Will Carry You and it was enough to make me want to read the whole thing. And I'm pretty sure you can't go wrong with Henri Nouwen.

More answers

I had a follow-up appointment with my midwife this morning. I was SO excited for it because I absolutely ADORE Kathrine.

After I had Hannah, Kathrine (who also experienced a second-trimester loss during her third pregnancy) told me that crocheting helped her in her grieving process. We had been talking about crocheting and knitting because I had made a hat for Hannah. Well, she was right about the crocheting. It's just a very easy way to escape. Not necessarily to escape my emotions and try to bury them or hide from something. It's become more of a time to actually sit still and finally be alone with my thoughts. So I made Kathrine a scarf. :) And I wrote her a long note and also got her a bag of MILK chocolate because she was very vocal about her distaste for dark chocolate at some point in a conversation during my labor. Anyway, she read the note and we both cried and chatted and cried and chatted some more. And I was reminded of why I was so looking forward to our visit!

When Hannah was born, the cause of death seemed to be pretty obvious because the cord was wrapped around her neck three times. But Kathrine still sent some of the placenta and part of the umbilical cord to be tested. The cord goes all the way down to Mayo Clinic and it takes a while to get the results back. But the placenta results did come back and they found that I had an infection where the placenta was attached to my uterus. So, it looks like that could have also been the cause. And since babies can get tangled in their cords multiple times throughout pregnancy, and even be born with it around their neck, I'm tempted to think that the infection was more likely the cause. But we'll never know. And we'll never know what caused the infection in the placenta. I am grateful that both the cord accident and the infection are flukes. Nothing happened that will greatly affect future pregnancies for us if that's a road we decide to travel down. We may still find out from the cord that I have a blood clotting issue. And that would simply require some action on my part during a future pregnancy (blood thinners, etc).

One thing that Kathrine did mention is if/when I do get pregnant again someday, I will be considered high risk. I'll have to do some blood tests early on to make sure everything is normal, there are other tests throughout the pregnancy, my 20-week ultrasound will be Level 2, etc. That's a bridge I don't need to worry about right now. We'll wait until we have to cross it.

So we got some more answers. Obviously nothing is going to give us a cut and dry reason for why this happened. But I'm glad it's not a total mystery; I think that would be harder to carry right now.