There's a scene where Maggie, shortly after delivering her stillborn son, attends the baby shower of her still pregnant friend. The same friend, that she would fantasize with about their babies growing up as friends and favorite playmates. After delivering and holding her dead baby, Maggie is then thrown back into the world by attending her still pregnant friends baby shower. Her anxiety is apparent the minute she arrives at the shower and she fearfully asks her friend if shes 'felt her baby today'. This little seed of anxiety takes root and begins to grow like ivy over our entire being. It becomes all consuming. This overcoming shadow of fear blankets everything in life. Shortly after she arrives, a few people at the shower see her and scurry away. Maggie notices this and is like, that's right, run away! Maggie's own mother scolds her and says, "It's hard for people. They don't know what to say to you." This is precisely the message a lot of society sends to bereaved parents. All attention is to be paid to everyone else, because it's hard for them. We're told, however sometimes in more subtle ways, to put our reality to the side- to spare the feelings of others. We don't want to make others uncomfortable... make them feel awkward... we're suppose to put their feelings at ease... while we're the ones living these people's nightmares.
Society repeatedly sends us the message that baby loss is hard to hear. It's sad, it's depressing, it's unfathomable. You don't want to think about it too long.
So we are silent.
We sweep it under the rug, tuck it behind a door and into a dark closet. Where it supposedly belongs. We're always being sent the message to keep it under wraps. Keep our story hidden away, our grief hidden away, our child hidden away. We're being told to ignore our own emotions and feelings. Or at the very least keep them private. All for the sake of everyone else. We aren't suppose to make anyone uncomfortable. It's a subject people don't want to hear about.
That simple exchange at her friends baby shower, speaks multitudes about the burden society puts on bereaved parents to be silent in order to spare the feelings of everyone else. Heaven forbid we make someone uncomfortable at the thought of their baby dying. We live it every second of the day. On top of grieving, we're told to do it silently. I've spoken about this before. But I am at a part in my grief journey where I don't shy away from talking about Lyla at all. And if I sense someone's uncomfortable and they don't really want to hear about her, I just talk about her louder. The only way we're going to break the silence is by speaking of our babies proudly.
When Maggie and Aaron meet with their doctor after discovering that Arthur had died, they are asked a series of questions that they halfheartedly even listen to because they still hadn't grasped the entire reality that their baby, that she was still pregnant with, had died. The social worker asked if they had thought about a burial or cremation. Blown away at the very thought of that, Aaron responds, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I would need to think about that." I mean, really, who thinks about that and plans a burial or cremation for their baby? We experienced the same surreal reaction when discussing with our MFM doctor about where we go from here. We found out Lyla's diagnosis was incompatible with life via an amniocentesis half way through our pregnancy. As we started journeying through the cold reality that we were going to have to say goodbye to her at some point and that she would die, part of what came with that, was researching funeral homes. I started the process with calling and setting up appointments with different places. I don't even know if I can put into words exactly what it felt like, to walk into a funeral home, pregnant, holding your belly, feeling your child moving about, and explaining to the funeral director, that we needed information on cremation and burials for our child... yes, the child I am pregnant with. The confused looks we got were unreal. What was even more unreal, was the fact that it would be thousands of dollars for a casket and burial for an infant. We visited a few different funeral homes and got many of the same reactions, and a lot of the same information. It was exhausting and left a pit in my stomach at each one. Literally my heart felt so heavy and my lungs felt like they could never draw enough air to just breathe.
After delivering Arthur and meeting with her doctor privately, she talks about how that hour she spent with Arthur after delivering him, "was the most beautiful hour of my life. I didn't want it to end." It is so incredibly hard to have to say goodbye to your baby. To not be able to bring them home with you. It is so unnatural. I remember after leaving the hospital, I insisted on being able to see her again at the funeral home. I've written about that moment before, but it continues to be one of the most painfully profound and beautiful moments I can recall and talk about. I left the funeral home so engulfed by pain and emotions.... Adam had to push me out of there because I couldn't bring myself to leave. There was not enough time in the world for me to stay there with her. I wanted to bring her home. I desperately wished there was a way for me to just bring her home with me, even though she was dead. I did not and could not leave her. In the movie, Maggie says, "I'm afraid if I let go of the pain, I'm going to lose the last piece I have of him." There's something so rawfully true about that statement. In the obvious way, after a loss of any kind, the moment you realize you're smiling again, you feel guilty for being able to be 'happy', even if it is just for a moment. And on a deeper level, I think bereaved parents get so used to feeling the pain, and seeing that as recognition of their child. If you start to let go of the pain, it feels like you're letting go of them. As time goes on, it really is a roller coaster of emotions. Some days or seasons, you find yourself genuinely happy, and you're able to recall your child in a positive light- seeing things through grateful rose colored lenses. Other days or seasons your blank and numb to everything. I know sometimes I've reverted back to a zombie state out of nowhere... grief has a way of sneaking up on you, no matter how much time has passed.
That simple exchange at her friends baby shower, speaks multitudes about the burden society puts on bereaved parents to be silent in order to spare the feelings of everyone else. Heaven forbid we make someone uncomfortable at the thought of their baby dying. We live it every second of the day. On top of grieving, we're told to do it silently. I've spoken about this before. But I am at a part in my grief journey where I don't shy away from talking about Lyla at all. And if I sense someone's uncomfortable and they don't really want to hear about her, I just talk about her louder. The only way we're going to break the silence is by speaking of our babies proudly.
When Maggie and Aaron meet with their doctor after discovering that Arthur had died, they are asked a series of questions that they halfheartedly even listen to because they still hadn't grasped the entire reality that their baby, that she was still pregnant with, had died. The social worker asked if they had thought about a burial or cremation. Blown away at the very thought of that, Aaron responds, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I would need to think about that." I mean, really, who thinks about that and plans a burial or cremation for their baby? We experienced the same surreal reaction when discussing with our MFM doctor about where we go from here. We found out Lyla's diagnosis was incompatible with life via an amniocentesis half way through our pregnancy. As we started journeying through the cold reality that we were going to have to say goodbye to her at some point and that she would die, part of what came with that, was researching funeral homes. I started the process with calling and setting up appointments with different places. I don't even know if I can put into words exactly what it felt like, to walk into a funeral home, pregnant, holding your belly, feeling your child moving about, and explaining to the funeral director, that we needed information on cremation and burials for our child... yes, the child I am pregnant with. The confused looks we got were unreal. What was even more unreal, was the fact that it would be thousands of dollars for a casket and burial for an infant. We visited a few different funeral homes and got many of the same reactions, and a lot of the same information. It was exhausting and left a pit in my stomach at each one. Literally my heart felt so heavy and my lungs felt like they could never draw enough air to just breathe.
After delivering Arthur and meeting with her doctor privately, she talks about how that hour she spent with Arthur after delivering him, "was the most beautiful hour of my life. I didn't want it to end." It is so incredibly hard to have to say goodbye to your baby. To not be able to bring them home with you. It is so unnatural. I remember after leaving the hospital, I insisted on being able to see her again at the funeral home. I've written about that moment before, but it continues to be one of the most painfully profound and beautiful moments I can recall and talk about. I left the funeral home so engulfed by pain and emotions.... Adam had to push me out of there because I couldn't bring myself to leave. There was not enough time in the world for me to stay there with her. I wanted to bring her home. I desperately wished there was a way for me to just bring her home with me, even though she was dead. I did not and could not leave her. In the movie, Maggie says, "I'm afraid if I let go of the pain, I'm going to lose the last piece I have of him." There's something so rawfully true about that statement. In the obvious way, after a loss of any kind, the moment you realize you're smiling again, you feel guilty for being able to be 'happy', even if it is just for a moment. And on a deeper level, I think bereaved parents get so used to feeling the pain, and seeing that as recognition of their child. If you start to let go of the pain, it feels like you're letting go of them. As time goes on, it really is a roller coaster of emotions. Some days or seasons, you find yourself genuinely happy, and you're able to recall your child in a positive light- seeing things through grateful rose colored lenses. Other days or seasons your blank and numb to everything. I know sometimes I've reverted back to a zombie state out of nowhere... grief has a way of sneaking up on you, no matter how much time has passed.
My favorite conversation in the film is the one between her and her high risk doctor. After she reveals that she too lost her child, she speaks about how she's been fortunate enough to go through that. Now typically you would not use the word fortunate when talking about baby loss families. But the truth is, we are lucky to carry with us everything our babies taught us about being a parent.
The children we do get to keep with us on earth, are so very precious to us. We know what it is like to have a child taken from you. To birth a child you don't get to bring home. To hope and wish and pray your child would be brought back to life. We hold their lifeless body, as our tears blanket them. Hoping they can at least feel how much we love them. It's more than anything in the world. An indescribable, pains your body, love.
I've spoken of my intense anxiety regarding my kids well being before. And it all stems from this. I am terrified something is going to happen to them. I know what it's like. I've been there before. I do not take a single second for granted with them. I love them more deeply and appreciate them greater, because of losing Lyla.
When her doctor says she's been fortunate enough to experience her loss. I can attest that it's 100% true. I know without a doubt, I wouldn't be the type of mom I am today, had it not been for Lyla's life and everything she taught me while she was on this earth.
I love greater and deeper than I ever could have before. For that, I am eternally grateful.
My favorite part of the movie... The part I could barely breathe through tears at, and the part I was most brought back to my journey with Lyla, was when she was delivering Arthur. I was so nervous, and so scared, and so timid. It becomes so overwhelming and scary trying to deliver your child that died, that you suddenly generate courage and start mothering your baby on its way out. "Come on baby, mommy's here, you can do it".... and then you meet. There is your baby, your precious baby that your body held and protected all this time. I remember feeling so scared, and then I had her. I held her. I looked at her. I kissed her. I admired her. I talked to her. And I thanked God for her. She was and is such an incredible gift.
Towards the end of the movie, Aaron gets into a fight with his father over something work related. He makes the decision to choose his family over work and over his father's wishes. After his dad says something to him about him being family, Aaron replies, "I know about family, I've held my dead son." That part is so powerful. I think so many people while managing their own family dysfunction, put relationships on the back burner, or let family relationships stay surfacy but then call it 'family'. The word family, and what it means, is truly felt after you've given birth to your dead baby, and you sit, as a family, while grieving and figuring out where to go from there, The grief journey ahead, is not meant to be done alone. To go through this entire experience and journey, I am overwhelmed with gratitude, that I was chosen to walk this journey. That I was chosen to be Lyla's mom, and that she was chosen to leave the incredible mark she did on our lives and this big world around us.
After giving birth to their Rainbow baby, Maggie talks to her baby about Arthur. She says, "I want to tell you about someone." Being able to put Harlow in her little sister onesie at the hospital, was so healing for me. Being able to see her, alive and in my arms, and being able to think of Lyla at the same time, brought me such peace. It also opened the door for anyone at the hospital to reference her shirt and ask about her big sister. While Maggie was being wheeled out of the hospital, holding her rainbow baby, the person pushing her asks if its her first. She proudly replies no... "I have two."
I have three.
"Nobody tells you the relationship you have with them after they die."
This blog is our journey after the storm. Both the happy times with our rainbows as well as our grief journey and continuing to remember Lyla and the legacy she left behind.
My favorite part of the movie... The part I could barely breathe through tears at, and the part I was most brought back to my journey with Lyla, was when she was delivering Arthur. I was so nervous, and so scared, and so timid. It becomes so overwhelming and scary trying to deliver your child that died, that you suddenly generate courage and start mothering your baby on its way out. "Come on baby, mommy's here, you can do it".... and then you meet. There is your baby, your precious baby that your body held and protected all this time. I remember feeling so scared, and then I had her. I held her. I looked at her. I kissed her. I admired her. I talked to her. And I thanked God for her. She was and is such an incredible gift.
Towards the end of the movie, Aaron gets into a fight with his father over something work related. He makes the decision to choose his family over work and over his father's wishes. After his dad says something to him about him being family, Aaron replies, "I know about family, I've held my dead son." That part is so powerful. I think so many people while managing their own family dysfunction, put relationships on the back burner, or let family relationships stay surfacy but then call it 'family'. The word family, and what it means, is truly felt after you've given birth to your dead baby, and you sit, as a family, while grieving and figuring out where to go from there, The grief journey ahead, is not meant to be done alone. To go through this entire experience and journey, I am overwhelmed with gratitude, that I was chosen to walk this journey. That I was chosen to be Lyla's mom, and that she was chosen to leave the incredible mark she did on our lives and this big world around us.
After giving birth to their Rainbow baby, Maggie talks to her baby about Arthur. She says, "I want to tell you about someone." Being able to put Harlow in her little sister onesie at the hospital, was so healing for me. Being able to see her, alive and in my arms, and being able to think of Lyla at the same time, brought me such peace. It also opened the door for anyone at the hospital to reference her shirt and ask about her big sister. While Maggie was being wheeled out of the hospital, holding her rainbow baby, the person pushing her asks if its her first. She proudly replies no... "I have two."
I have three.
"Nobody tells you the relationship you have with them after they die."
This blog is our journey after the storm. Both the happy times with our rainbows as well as our grief journey and continuing to remember Lyla and the legacy she left behind.
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