Stillborn; Forever Loved
From the Blog
Hearing the news was definitely the worst part. “There is no heartbeat.”
It broke me. I fell.
Giving birth to him was the worst part. “Keep going; keep pushing.”
I pushed for 4 hours because dead babies can’t help….
Dear mother who is pregnant for perhaps the first time: please know that I worry about you. Whether we are friends or acquaintances or just a moment in time, I may ask you questions. It may seem strange. You may resent me talking about the importance of kick counts or the dangers of relying on home dopplers.
Please know I’m constantly fighting a battle between how much is important to tell you without also leaving you terrified. Please know I do these things because I care about you; because they are things I will always wish someone had done for me. These things would have saved my son’s life.
No one talks about the reality of giving birth to a deceased baby. No one talks about the fog that envelopes you and wraps your mind in grief. Nothing, not even stories like this one, can prepare you for the enormity of going through a full-term labor and leaving the hospital without a living child. In the simplest terms possible–it changes you. And in addition to losing your child, the person you were before also dies.
At a retreat last year, someone pointed out that everything happens — everything: happiness, sadness, loneliness, joy; war, famine, rape, death; broken promises, lottery winners, childhood cancer, cancer cured. Everything. And almost never for a reason. At least not the way the saying intends. Sometimes life just sucks. Sometimes children die. And sometimes they don’t. And that’s just part of the real truth in life, the real truth in the world.
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