In the Shadow of the Holidays: Helping Those Who Grieve This Season

This is the time of year when we often celebrate the abundance of our lives. We fill our homes with lights, decorations and presents. We send cards and well wishes to people that we feel lucky to know and to keep in touch with, but with whom we may not be able to have many visits or interactions with over the year. We gather for large family meals and we celebrate our religions in a way that really doesn't happen over most the year. Joy is usually the theme that permeates our airwaves, our thoughts, and our lives during this time of year, but in the shadow of all this light and happiness there are many who are grieving this year; who grieve every year. I don't know what it is about this year that has made me realize this more than any other year, but I seem particularly attuned to it everywhere I look.

You see, my life has been touched by women who have lost (or are losing) their children this year. Think about the degree of that loss. Most of us don't want to. Most of us can't. You see, the people who read this blog are all parents and we don't want to think about losing the most precious people in our lives, the very people who have redefined who we are and who gave us the title of mother or father. Yet, I look around me and I see many mothers grieving this season. Many of you might remember the blog I wrote featuring the Harper family and honoring Alicia Harper, well, I am sorry to say that the Harper family was hit by the devastating loss of their youngest member, Brayden, whose miracle life has inspired and continues to inspire so many. Likewise, you may also remember the blog I shared about another inspring mom, Melissa Bissing, who successfully turned the grief she feels after losing her son in May of 2011 into a movement, Orange for Owen that has transformed not only her community but the lives of people all over the world. Another brave mother with ties to my own hometown community is currently facing the possible loss of her beloved daughter, Kyra, to cancer this season. Even our own contributers here at the connected mom website have been bravely honest about their own pregnancy losses and as I grieve with yet another woman that I have come to care about who is currently suffering her own second trimester loss, I can't help but think about all these mothers' grief even in the midst of my joy during the Christmas season.

It is easy at this point, when you hear or read about so much loss to resolve to pray or to think of all these mothers and then use their grief as inspiration to cling that much closer and to be more appreciative of our own children, but I think that is only the first step. The most effective way we can help them in their grieving is to participate in making their loss meaningful by liking the facebook pages I have linked to above and maybe even donating or giving when we can to those who are making thier loss meaningful like those at Heaven's Angels who accept donations of yarn, other materials, and knitted goods to help grieving mothers who lose their babies in later pregnancy or The Global Hydranencephaly Foundation who works to educate and create support and full lives for families faced with the same devastating diagnosis that just cost the Harper family their son. We are all mothers together and we are all a community, whether we have ever met in person or not, and we must also grieve and act as a community as well. It may not make any mother's grief less painful, but it can make the world a little brighter for everyone if we remember to keep the candles burning for the children whose light no longer burns in this world.

Thank you for reading,
Shawna

Her Crying Spot

A few weeks ago, my daughter got really upset about something and ran to my room.  I could hear her muffled sobs and walked back there to see what I could do.  I unwrapped her from the blankets she'd pulled off the bed and wrapped around herself, picked her up and held her tight.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I am just a little sad, so I came to my crying spot to feel better."

"Your crying spot?"

"Ya.  The place I go to feel safe and cry until I feel better."

"Oh, that's very smart!  Would you like me to leave you in your crying spot until you need me?"

"Yes, mama.  Thank you."

Since, every time she gets a little upset or doesn't want to talk, we ask her if she'd like to go to her crying spot and then call for us when she was ready for us.

What an ingenious idea!  A place you can go where you feel safe, comforted, and you can just feel whatever you need to feel.

We lost our seventh baby almost two weeks ago, and the idea of a safe place to grieve came back to me.  How many women suffering through the loss of a child put a smile on day after day and wonder when they can finally feel safe to actually feel what they need to feel?  How many times do we wish that we could run to the nearest hill, in the pouring rain, and sob all the anxiety and grief away where no one can hear?

How many times do we, as mothers and wives, just wish we could go somewhere to feel warm and comforted?

No matter the trials in our life, everyone needs to be able to let it all out sometimes.  Being a woman, and I speak from experience, we feel we need to take care of everyone else first and then deal with ourselves.  Not only is this unhealthy, but all the bottled up emotions have to eventually come out.

Everyone deserves their own place to do what they need to do, regardless of what that is.  It doesn't have to be a crying spot, but make a place of your own that is just yours.

Everyone has times where they're discouraged, sad, troubled, and grieving, and feeling safe can do a lot for letting that out.  Don't bottle things in.  Find a crying spot.  My daughter swears by them.

You're Still A Mom

As Mother's Day approaches, I have been thinking more and more about the babies I have that most people don't recognize.  I get flowers for my living daughter, but no one knows that in truth I have six babies.

When people recognize Mother's Day, they see what they want to see.  If a woman is pregnant and it is visible to all, she is a mother.  If a woman has children with her, she is a mother.

But, to me and many other women, the obvious mothers aren't the only ones that should be celebrated.

There are many mothers that need more love during this time than those with living children.  The mothers that have lost children, that appear childless, are still in fact mothers.  They deserve to be celebrated also.

Those of you that have lost children, whether through miscarriage, stillbirth, or neonatal loss, you are still in fact a mother.  No one can ever take that away from you.

Since my first loss three years ago, I have changed a lot as a person and changed what I believe about pregnancy.  I believe that regardless of gestation, a baby is a baby.  If you know you are pregnant but never really get that clear positive test, or you start bleeding within seconds of getting that test, you are a mother to that precious miracle.  If you carry that child to 8 weeks or 20 weeks or 44 weeks, you are still their mother.  If they tell you that your baby was "chemical" because you lost them before 5 weeks, you are still their mother.  If you hold your precious child in your arms or just see a few drops of blood, you are still a mother.

It hurts to be looked at with pity because you aren't getting flowers or presents, especially when people don't know or choose not to understand why your arms are empty.

You are a mother.

Just because your baby couldn't stay with you doesn't mean that you shouldn't be included.  Mother's Day was made to include and celebrate motherhood.  When we lived in smaller communities and had the support of a village, no woman was left out, even if her children weren't living.

You are a mother.  No one can take that away from you, and this Mother's Day, remember the precious baby you were given, and how you were chosen specifically for them.

Nothing can replace a mother's love, and this year, we honor you.

The Cord

We are connected,

My child and I, by

An invisible cord

Not seen by the eye.

It's not like the cord

That connects us 'til birth

This cord can't been seen

By any on Earth.

This cord does it's work

Right from the start.

It binds us together

Attached to my heart.

I know that it's there

Though no one can see

The invisible cord

From my child to me.

The strength of this cord

Is hard to describe.

It can't be destroyed

It can't be denied.

It's stronger than any cord

Man could create

It withstands the test

Can hold any weight.

And though you are gone,

Though you're not here with me,

The cord is still there

But no one can see.

It pulls at my heart

I am bruised...I am sore,

But this cord is my lifeline

As never before.

I am thankful that God

Connects us this way

A mother and child

Death can't take it away!

Author Unknown

*Check back tomorrow for a giveaway for you mothers of angels and precious blessings that left this Earth too soon*

"Whatcha Need to Know?" Wednesdays

I'm hoping that as I get to know more of you and more comments are posted, Wednesdays at The Connected Mom will be devoted to addressing issues that you have questions about. Please feel free to email me at ConnectedMomCarmen@gmail.com or comment below any of my posts. Saturdays will be for the 'light' stuff (inspiring stories, giveaways, etc.). :o)

This week, I'm coming to you for help. What I need to know is about grieving and breastfeeding. I want to hear from you about how you handled loss, breastfeeding, and attachment parenting while grieving a loss.

I know that stress can cause your milk supply to drop; did you dip into a freezer stash or take supplements to counteract the potential drop?

What about the way you parent? Holding your children closer than ever would seem the natural course of things, but I imagine it's not easy to do when you have those moments of simply wanting to pull away from everything. Having a preschooler who may not fully understand the reality of what is happening will provide unique challenges as well.

Today's role reversal is because I'm facing this very situation. My grandfather is 88 years old and was placed on hospice right before Killian was born in January. He had two goals-- to see Killian and to make it long enough to celebrate their 50th anniversary with my grandma. Well, he was here when Killian came home (we stopped at their house on the way to ours).

He's the "Joseph" in Killian Joseph Merritt B. He not only made it long enough to meet Killian, but has gotten to enjoy him as well.

Growing up, my grandpa & I always had a special bond. He owned a sewing machine shop & I was his 'apprentice'-- complete with pink business cards. We'd walk to the 7-11 around the corner every day at lunch and he'd buy me snowballs. He would order my hotcakes every Sunday morning before church when we went to McDonald's, make sure they were 'perfectly golden', slather them with butter, pour on the syrup, and cut them to my liking. (Yeah, I was a *little* spoiled.) He gave my first 'boyfriend' a quarter a week to save up for my wedding ring; in preschool that was big money! I'd snuggle up to him in worship service, and when I was really little he was affectionately referred to as my 'water bed'. He taught me how to skip when I thought I'd fail kindergarten if I didn't learn. He taught me how to break down a sewing machine, clean it up with Fantastik and make it sparkle like new.

Me & Grandpa 1983

He taught me what unconditional love really means. In my eyes, he can do no wrong. For some girls, that person is their daddy. Unfortunately, the bad choices my father made are far too many to get into on here. The first time my dad was incarcerated, my grandpa asked me if I wanted my daddy home. When I told him I did, with all the wisdom of a 2 year old and no clue what the next 15 years would bring, my grandpa fought tooth & nail to make sure I got what I asked for. He and my grandma helped my mom with me when I was little; when I was 20 I lived with them for a few years, and they helped me with my first daughter as well. He walked me down the aisle at my wedding.


This Tuesday, September 14, is my grandparent's 50th anniversary.


This weekend I had to let my 8 year old know that she might not be back from her dad's house before Grandpa passes away. I'd briefly spoken to her about him getting worse, and of course she has seen it. I've never lived more than 15 minutes away from them, so she sees them often. I've never had to deal with death like this (someone so close & having to tell a child this young). Marley (3.5 years) is just old enough to miss him, but too young to understand the permanence of what it about to happen. It tears my heart out that she and Killian won't really have any memories of him.

How in the world do you go through this and remain 'attached'? Is that what keeps you going? I nursed through an 'early' miscarriage, but this seems to be on a whole other level compared to that. I've always begged my grandpa to stay for the next thing.... I know that won't work this time. I can't imagine the breath that will come after I know that he has passed. I worry that I should pump and freeze some milk or take some Fenugreek as a preemptive move, but I'd really like to hear from others who have experience with this.

Me & Grandpa 2006
...is my expression not the worst!? ;o)