The First Anniversary of Your Baby’s Death

By Monica Novak -

From Open to Hope ‘Ask the Authors’

Deborah writes in: Infant grandson passed away on the day of his birth, anniversary is coming, do you have any suggestions on how to celebrate this day, mom and dad are sooo sad.
Thank you for your help.

Response to Deborah:

Dear Deborah,

I am so very sorry for the loss of your grandson.  The year following the death of a baby takes a family through such a wide range of emotions, often culminating on the first anniversary of that death (or on what would be the baby’s first birthday if the baby lived a short time), that it can be difficult to decide how to spend the day.  There are many ways to celebrate the baby’s life and make it a special remembrance, and the key is finding what feels right for your family.  If there are other living children in this family, a fun activity could be planned with them in mind.  If not, I would suggest the parents find something enjoyable to do together or with other family and friends who will understand their sadness and provide support while offering love and upliftment at the same time.

When the first anniversary of my stillborn daughter Miranda’s death came around, I felt I should do something, but didn’t know what.  Because Miranda had been cremated, we didn’t have a cemetery to visit.  My mom remembered it was Miranda’s day and called to invite me and my 2-year-old daughter to the beach for the day.  I sat in the sand and wrote a letter to Miranda pouring out my feelings.  That night, after looking through Miranda’s memory book together, I put a candle in a cupcake and my husband, daughter, and I sang Happy Birthday to her.  It was a nice way to enjoy the day, while still remembering the importance of it.  And I so deeply appreciated every card or phone call that came from other family and friends to let me know they remembered Miranda too.

Friends from my support group celebrated in various ways.  One family had a meal at a restaurant down the street that had given them balloons one year earlier to release at their son’s funeral.  Some made special trips to the cemetery where their babies were buried, either taking flowers or releasing balloons.  One family took cupcakes to share with medical staff who had cared for their baby.  Another family donated three tape recorders to the NICU where their triplet babies had lived and died, so the staff could play music for other sick infants.

Some families light a candle and let it burn all day.  A wonderful way to commemorate and honor the baby’s life is to plant a tree or flowering shrub.  My dear friend Cathi Lammert of the Share organization spent the first anniversary of her son Christopher’s death gathering with family at a church Mass in honor of their son, followed by a brunch at their home.  They were given the gift of a small blue spruce which became their symbol of Christopher every day.  The tree became such an important part of their lives, that when they moved five years later, they had the tree moved to their new home just in time to decorate it for the Christmas season.

It’s okay to spend a quiet day in reflection, and it’s okay to invite family and friends to share in a celebration of your grandson’s life.  What you choose this year might become an annual tradition, or you might find that in time, the remembrance will evolve into something else.  On the anniversary days that followed the first year, as the intense grief subsided, my support group friends and I sometimes gathered at someone’s home for wine and dessert, or held cemetery picnics with food, games for the kids, and a balloon release.

It’s important for the parents to give themselves permission to treat themselves with care on this special day, taking the day off of work if possible, and doing something that allows them to treasure the gift of their son’s life, which hopefully in time will bring them more joy than sorrow.

Monica Novak is the author of The Good Grief Club, the highly-praised memoir about her friendships with six other women that carried them through the ups and downs of grief and motherhood following the loss of their babies in miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death.  She also serves as editor of Open to Hope’s Pregnancy and Infant Loss page.  For more information about her book, and for pregnancy loss and infant death resources, please visit her website at www.thegoodgriefclub.com or e-mail her at monica@thegoodgriefclub.com.

Signs of Hope

By Monica Novak - 

When our daughter Miranda was stillborn, the word “hope” took on new meaning for me.  Used often to describe the feeling that what you want in the future will happen, for example healing and moving beyond grief, hope for me meant knowing that my daughter had not just disappeared into oblivion.  Hope meant knowing that she was still with me, now, and that I didn’t have to wait until so-called death to be with her again.  I began asking for her to give me a sign that she was indeed with me.  It didn’t take long for the answer to come.

It began in July of 1995.  It had only been a month since we’d lost Miranda.  Al and I were lying on a blanket in the grass, on a beautiful summer night, with a light breeze and a gorgeous sunset, listening to the band and watching our daughter Alex dance.  I was thinking I should be nursing an infant at my breast.  And changing her diaper.  And dancing with her in my arms.  I was pulled from my longing by a white feathery, silky ball hovering around me-my naturalist friend, Jessica, would later identify it as a seedling from a Cottonwood tree-looking like the stuff angel wings must be made of.  A flying fluff, I called it. 

I reached up and watched it dance around my hand.  It swirled up and down and around me, never straying too far, ignoring the breeze that begged to carry it away.  My heart beat fast with excitement and wonder.  It should have been long gone.  What’s happening? I asked the universe.  Is that you Miranda, telling me you’re here?  Or was I losing my mind?

I looked away to watch Alex, expecting the flying fluff to be gone when my eyes returned, but it was still there, dancing playfully.  Needing to know her spirit was with me, I had been praying for a sign from Miranda that she was alright.  An unlikely means of communication, was this the answer I had been waiting for?  After several minutes it finally drifted up and away, caught in the gentle breeze.

Fourteen years later, I still notice every flying fluff that comes near me or gently floats by.  It’s become a special connection I have with my daughter, and although the circumstances are usually nothing to remark about, there have been some times when the appearance or “behavior” of these “signs” have defied the laws of nature.  One summer day I had been sitting at the kitchen table and found myself thinking about that flying fluff at the concert eight years earlier while a rain shower pounded outside.  A few minutes later, when the rain stopped, I walked down the driveway to let the kids in the van for the morning carpool and was stopped in my tracks by the sight of a flying fluff floating over my shoulder.  It can’t be, I said to myself.  Everything was soaked from the rain.  The air, still and heavy with humidity, hadn’t been able to dry a thing, much less blow it off a tree into the air.  Physically, this shouldn’t have been happening, yet it was unfolding before my eyes.  Then I realized I had just been sitting at the table thinking about the flying fluff from eight years ago, and a warm excitement, like the moment of a first kiss, poured through my heart as I realized the significance of the moment.  I couldn’t deny the feeling of Miranda’s presence with me.

Several years later, as I was sitting out on our covered deck thinking about the impending publishing of my book, which had everything to do with Miranda, I noticed a flying fluff moving through the backyard.  I smiled, as I always do, when suddenly the rain cloud looming overhead gave way to a drizzle.  Wouldn’t it be interesting if another fluff came flying through the rain? I thought to myself.  I had barely gotten that thought out before another fluff did indeed come floating through the yard following the first one.  I wondered how it was that this weightless puff of near nothingness could dodge the rain drops which surely would knock it to the ground.  As that seedling floated past me, the rain became heavier, turning a drizzle into a shower.  Now, I said to myself, another fluff would just be a miracle.  I watched in amazement as another fluff came floating by, completely ignoring the heavy rain that pelted the ground and everything in its path.  I laughed out loud, partially in disbelief, but also knowing that once again, I couldn’t deny the overwhelming feeling that Miranda was here, orchestrating this reminder just for me.

Many of my friends have stories of their own.  Kristi, who lost her triplet babies, told us one night about coming home to find three baby bunnies running and playing in her backyard.  When her husband came home that day, they were there to greet him, as well.  My friend Dawn, who also lost her triplets, had many stories of birds on her deck, always in groups of three.  When Christa’s infant son Michael died, her connection to him became dragonflies.  Five years later, when another infant son, Brandon, died, they returned from the memorial service to find a dragonfly in the kitchen on the curtain rod above the door.  My other friends have stories of special songs on the radio at significant moments, unexplainable smells and sounds, and their own unusual encounters with objects or animals. 

Even my mother got signs from my grandmother “Nana” who lived well into her 90s.  After Nana made her transition, my mother brought home Nana’s chime clock, and although it was broken and hadn’t chimed in years, it was one of my Nana’s (and my mom’s) favorite things from my grandparents’ house.  Imagine my mother’s surprise (and feelings of love and hope) when the clock began randomly chiming!

My friend Cathi Lammert, Executive Director of Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss, compiled a book of stories just like the ones above.  It’s called Angelic Presence.  The subtitle is Short Stories of Solace and Hope After the Loss of a Baby.  There’s that word again.  Hope.  It’s available to all of us.  But sometimes we need to ask.  And then pay attention.  The signs are sometimes obvious and undeniable, but more often they’re so subtle that they cause us to doubt their validity when we use our minds to overanalyze them.  So how will you know?  Keep asking, keep paying attention, and focus on your heart, not your head.  Your feelings are the key.  Whether you feel your signs and messages are coming from your baby, a loved one, an angel, or a higher power (you might call God, or Source, or Creator), it’s not really important to distinguish, for those words all mean the same thing: Love.  And where there’s love, there’s hope.  What signs of hope have you been given?

Monica Novak is the author of The Good Grief Club, a memoir about her friendships with six other women that carried them through the ups and downs of grief and motherhood following the loss of their babies in miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death.  She also serves as editor of Open to Hope’s Pregnancy and Infant Loss page.  For more information about her book, and for pregnancy loss and infant death resources, please visit her website at www.thegoodgriefclub.com or e-mail her at monica@thegoodgriefclub.com.

Will You Follow Your Heart?

By Monica Novak -

I was having breakfast with my friend Wendy on a recent Sunday morning when she told me this story.  On her way out of church that morning, she saw an older woman sitting in the pew crying.  It’s a large congregation, and Wendy didn’t know the woman, but something inside Wendy told her to stop.  She followed her heart and walked up to the woman to ask if she was okay and could she do anything for her.  The woman wiped her face and told Wendy that her 2-month-old granddaughter had just died, and she had to go help her son and daughter-in-law through the grueling process of making funeral arrangements.  She was waiting for the crowd to clear so nobody would see her face. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry this has happened.  How did she die?” Wendy asked, sitting down next to the woman.  “She had a heart defect and got through one surgery and was doing well.  She had gone home and gained weight, and we were hopeful that she was going to make it, and then she went downhill really fast,” answered the woman.

Wendy had been a NICU/special care nursery nurse, and had watched many families during this type of crisis, she told the woman.  But then she shared something more personal.  Wendy told the woman that she herself had lost four babies and that she understood the heartbreak. 

Wendy gave the woman the name and location for the local pregnancy and infant loss support group she had attended.  She also gave her home phone number and told the woman to have her daughter-in-law call Wendy anytime she needed someone to talk to, even if it was in the middle of the night.  And Wendy meant it.  Wendy asked the baby’s name, the names of her son and daughter-in-law, as well as the name of their living son, the baby’s brother.  She wrote them down and said she would pray for them.  Then Wendy hugged her and said goodbye. 

This story reminds me of the time I sat across from a woman in the café of my local Target store.  She was visibly distraught over something, and I wanted to approach her and ask her if she needed help.  I was waiting for her to make eye contact with me, to “invite” me to come over and talk, but she never did, so I stayed put.  After ten minutes, she got up and left.  My heart sank, for I hadn’t followed it’s urging that day.  I will never forget that woman and will always wonder if I could have helped her in some way, if perhaps I was “put” there for a reason.

I was no stranger to the outreach of a caring human being.  After my daughter Miranda was stillborn, I was deeply grieving and struggled with the decision to return to work.  While I was at home on maternity leave, I received this unexpected letter from a co-worker:

July 7, 1995

Dear Monica,

I don’t believe we have met yet; however, we spoke for quite awhile a couple of months ago when you interviewed me for the company newsletter.  I remember our phone conversation well and have been looking forward to meeting you ever since.  I am writing today to express my deepest sympathies to you and your family in the loss of your daughter, Miranda.  It was only this last Friday that I learned of the tragedy that has come to you.

We spoke at length the day you called, but particularly about children and the excitement felt when expecting a new one to the family.  I felt that maternal bond that comes from mothers/expectant mothers talking.  Today I am writing because of another bond felt-that of experiencing tragic loss.  Two years ago on July 2^nd, my father and 16-year-old brother (13 years my junior) died in a weather-related car accident.  It was unexpected and it was unwelcome, as is your loss, and although I have felt great pain and emptiness at no longer having them with me, I can only imagine the emptiness of losing a child-and I know I can never fully understand.  In our department is a mom who lost her four-month-old child to SIDS.  I did not know her at the time of her loss and although the losses and experiences are different, we can take comfort in each other; listening perhaps a little more closely, a little more appreciatively, than others who have not experienced sudden and tragic death.

I have no great words of wisdom and I fear all too few to comfort.  One thing I have read and do know in my heart to be true-All life has purpose.  Miranda’s life within you had purpose, and I know she feels your love.  I hope that we will meet, and I hope that we can talk and perhaps draw some small comfort from each other.

My thoughts and prayers are with you, your family, and especially with Miranda.

Lynne Schwartz

At the time of our phone interview, Lynne had two little girls and I was six months pregnant with Miranda, so our conversation had naturally turned to motherhood.  I had hoped to meet her, but not under these circumstances.  I later made the decision to return to work, in large part because of Lynne reaching out to me.  We quickly became close friends, often spending our lunch hour together, sharing life stories and struggles with grief. 

Lynne and I had worked at the headquarters for a large corporation, and of all the people I could have interviewed for that company newsletter, why had I been connected with her?  Coincidence?  I don’t think so.  Lynne was “put” in my life at just the right moment through that interview.  She followed her heart when she wrote me that letter.  And I followed my heart when I decided to go back to work, making a beeline for her department (and a big hug!) just minutes after I returned that first day after maternity leave. 

Of all the people who could have seen the crying woman in that crowded church, why was it Wendy who noticed?  Coincidence?  No, I don’t think so.  Wendy was “put” in that woman’s path because she was the perfect person to console her.  Wendy followed her heart when she stopped to offer help.  And the woman followed her heart when she opened up and shared her pain with Wendy.

Have you ever heard the saying “People are God’s hands here on Earth?”  We’re put in each other’s lives at just the right moment, in just the right place.  Perhaps it’s the orchestration of angels.  However you want to explain it, and whatever you want to call it, it’s all around you if you’ll pay attention.  But sometimes it’s up to you to follow your heart and offer a kind word or a gentle touch.  And sometimes it’s up to you to follow your heart and accept it.  The next time you’re put in a situation like this, will you choose to follow your heart? 

Portions of this article were excerpted from The Good Grief Club: A True Story About the Power of Friendship and French Toast.

Monica Novak is the author of The Good Grief Club, a memoir about her friendships with six other women that carried them through the ups and downs of grief following the loss of their babies in miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death.  She also serves as editor of Open to Hope’s Pregnancy and Infant Loss page at www.opentohopepregnancyloss.com .  For more information about her book, and for pregnancy loss and infant death resources, please visit her website at www.thegoodgriefclub.com or e-mail her at monica@thegoodgriefclub.com.

Welcome to My New Column and First Posting

Dear Friends,

Welcome to the first post of my new weekly column, A Mother’s Thoughts. I’ll be sharing stories from my own experience, stories told to me by others, and any topics I come across that are relevant to pregnancy loss and infant death. I welcome your comments, questions, and your own personal experiences, for it is in sharing that we find healing and meaning in our own lives.  Blessings, Monica

 

Choosing to Live

By Monica Novak

Three weeks after our daughter Miranda was stillborn, shattering my Marsha-Brady-like-existence, my husband Al and I attended a Share pregnancy and infant loss support group meeting. I came home that night with a book from the lending library called Dear Parents. It was a collection of letters written by real-life bereaved parents to poor souls like me. I sat in my bed crying, page after page, but when I finished reading, I realized that for the first time since Miranda’s death, I felt a thread of hope weaving its way through my soul. These parents, and the “veteran” members of the support group, gave me an inkling of belief in the idea that I might one day actually be capable of happiness again.

Well, here I am fourteen years later writing to tell you the same thing. I can’t pinpoint one moment in time when I realized I had become happy again, or even when I was no longer mad as hell at the unfairness of losing my baby. It was a gradual process, a journey, made possible in large part by the friendships I discovered in six other women from my Share group. Together, we laughed and cried (often over French toast and beer), got pissed off, got pregnant again, held cemetery picnics, held Walks to Remember. What we were doing, although we didn’t realize it then, was making conscious choices to keep living life. We were telling the universe, “we aren’t done yet, we aren’t going to let this break us, our babies’ lives must have meaning, and we’re going to figure out how to absorb them into who we are now becoming.”

The Good Grief Club is the book I wrote to share our story with you. For Dawn, Beth, Heidi, Darlene, Tracy, Wendy and me-in the wake of the babies we lost, in the face of the babies who were yet to come-life went on. It can for you, too. But you must choose.

Monica Novak is the author of The Good Grief Club and the editor of Open to Hope’s Pregnancy and Infant Loss page (www.opentohopepregnancyloss.com). Visit her website at www.thegoodgriefclub.com or e-mail her at monica@thegoodgriefclub.com.

‘Don’t Ever Doubt You Are a Mother’

By Nina Bennett -

In a monumental moment of synchronicity, I was present the night my beloved granddaughter was born still. She slid into this world without drawing a breath, following a full-term, healthy pregnancy and normal, though long, labor. In a poignant moment, Jennifer, my daughter-in-law, looked at me and quietly asked, “So am I a mother or aren’t I?” With her question, my heart broke all over again. Later, Jenn told me how she resented not having the chance to parent her daughter.

Oh, but Jenn, you did parent your daughter. Not in the way you dreamed of, certainly. The act of parenting involves nurturing your child and tending to her needs.

Your daughter received unconditional love from the very first moment. You tended to her needs throughout your pregnancy. You carefully researched your prenatal care options, choosing a practice with nurse midwives because of their philosophy toward pregnancy and birth. You were actively involved in your pregnancy, taking yoga classes to deal with stress and physical discomforts. You read everything you could get your hands on about fetal development. You paid attention to your changing body and respected the fact that these changes were in response to your baby’s growth. A vegetarian, you were vigilant about ensuring that your baby received the proper nutrients for her development.

Together, you and Tim selected the birthing suite where you wanted to welcome your child. The plans for the birth were made with love. Every step of the way, each decision you made was based on love and concern for your baby-the absolute hallmarks of parenting. You chose a car seat after examining safety ratings. The furniture you selected for the nursery was not only lovely, it was useful-the crib would convert into a single bed, so the furniture would transition as your child grew older. In every decision you made, your baby came first.

I believe that the ultimate goal of parenting is to prepare your child to leave the protection of her home. While we never expected this to occur in the manner it did, you accomplished this with an amazing show of grace. As she left your body you touched her, not knowing that the guidance you were providing was all the guidance she would ever need.

Maddy knew the certainty and warmth of unconditional love throughout your pregnancy with her. Your daughter knew the intensity and depth of your love during her delivery and for the hours afterward, when you held and rocked and talked to her.  Although the atmosphere of serenity you had planned was temporarily abandoned when it was discovered that Maddy had no heartbeat, the quiet and dignity you desired returned once the medical necessities were completed.

Please don’t ever doubt that you are a mother. You are a mother in the truest, most selfless sense. Bereft, yes, but truly a mother. Your arms may be empty but your heart is overflowing. The love you have for your daughter lives on in your actions and your determination that she not be forgotten. You approach relationships with increased warmth and a heightened sense of connection.  So much was taken from you on November 12, 2003, but one fact will never change - forever and always, you will be Maddy’s Mommy.

© copyright 2006 Nina Bennett

Death of a Child: ‘Unfinished Motherhood’

By Clara Hinton -

When child-loss occurs, a mother goes through a difficult time of emotional turmoil and questioning. “Am I still a mother?” “Does my child still have a birthday each year, or does time stand still?” “Can the mother/child relationship continue to grow, or am I now an ‘unfinished mother’?”

Losing a child often places a mother on a road that begins a lonelier journey than ever expected-one that can never really be explained. There was a beginning, but with the death of the child, there is no middle and no end. Everything seems so unfinished. Hopes and dreams were stopped far too soon. Joy was snatched away so suddenly. A mother is left with empty arms and an empty heart. Nothing can ever be complete when a child’s life ends.

When the death of a child occurs, a mother may suddenly feel inadequate and incomplete. She wears a new name. She may feel an “unfinished mother,” never being able to see the rest of the picture. She will never be able to watch her child mature into a young adult. She will never be able to see all the pieces fit together. The picture will always have part of the scenery missing. It is so painful to be an unfinished mother! Child loss makes everything seem so empty and incomplete.

There will come a critical point in this journey of grief when a mother must reach deep into her inner resources and make a conscious decision to accept herself just as she is-a mother whose heart has been touched by the pain and grief of child-loss. Only then can she start to put together some of the broken pieces and begin to feel like there will be a day when she will feel more like a complete mother than an unfinished mother.

A mother is never “unfinished.” No matter how brief her time was with her child, the bond of love between mother and child was complete. A mother’s love for her child is unending. Dreams may shatter and circumstances may change, but a mother’s love remains strong. As a mother travels the path to healing, it is important for her to remind herself often that she is a mother forever. Her motherhood did not stop when her child died. This understanding of motherhood releases the feelings of guilt and failure and allows a mother to begin to see herself as a whole person again-a complete mother.

A mother is never an “unfinished mother.” A mother’s love runs far too deep for that!

While experiencing the blessing of living children, Clara has also felt the pain of losing six children due to miscarriage, and has delivered one stillborn son.  Knowing the grief of child loss first-hand prompted Clara to write a book, Silent Grief, as well as begin a grief support website, www.silentgrief.com, for parents seeking support while going through the pain of loss. Contact Clara at chinton@wpia.net or visit the Silent Grief website.

Suggestions for a Well-Deserved Mother’s and Father’s Day

By Cathi Lammert -

Often times Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are two of the most difficult days for bereaved parents. Some have told me that these days are so painful that they are not able to even acknowledge it for their own mom or dad, and they celebrate with their parents on a different day. Over the years, parents have looked at me with tear-filled eyes and asked me “Am I really a parent if my baby is not here with me?”

I equate parenthood with love; the greatest kind of love. Does love stop when a baby dies? Of course not! You will always be your child/ren’s parent. No one can take this role away from you.

You may question whether you have the right to celebrate or be remembered on these days, but a parent’s love needs to be acknowledged and celebrated. If you can’t imagine joining the rest of the world in the typical activities of celebration, do something different or not at all. But also know, that even without your precious baby in your arms, you are parents and parenthood can be celebrated as you choose. Whatever you choose to do on these days, know that it is okay if it feels right to you.

The following suggestions are some ways to celebrate your parenthood on these difficult days:

* Acknowledge that you are parents.

* Be gentle with yourselves. Do only what you can handle. 

*Acknowledge that this day could be difficult and determine how you can comfortably spend the day.

*Alert yourself to the most difficult challenges of the day, such as attention given to moms and dads at church. Some parents have talked to their clergy about the importance of recognizing all parents at these celebrations.

*Family gatherings may make you feel uncomfortable. Discuss this with your family and let them know that you appreciate their love and support, but that you may not be able to attend or manage your composure throughout the entire day. Assure them that these feelings will not be forever.

*Plan ahead. Waiting until the last minute can cause frustration and hurt feelings.

*Share with family and friends how they can help make your day a special one. Sometimes they need specific suggestions, such as sending you a card, flowers, or a donation to Share or another favorite charity in your baby’s name.

*Treat yourselves to a special gift, an outing, or flowers. Send each other cards for these special days.

*Remember your baby by lighting a candle, placing a rose on the alter or dinner table, or planting a tree or bush.

It is important to tell others what you need. Do not assume that everyone will be aware of how you are feeling on these days. Being aware in advance that certain situations may be difficult, such as family gatherings or church services, allows you the opportunity to plan accordingly. If you’ve been asked to do something that makes you uncomfortable, listen to your heart. For some, spending the day in bed with the covers pulled up, or on the couch watching movies, might be the right thing. Be sensitive to your own feelings and needs, and above all, know that you are parents.

Cathi Lammert, R.N., is Executive Director of the National Office of SHARE Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. www.nationalshare.org.  As a bereaved parent, Cathi combines her personal experience with her education and professional background as an obstetrical nurse. Her son, Christopher Michael lived just 4 days and died due to Hydrops Fetalis, a complication of Rh sensitization.  Cathi was a guest on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart with Dr. Gloria & Dr. Heidi Horsley, to discuss Finding Help and Hope After Pregnancy Loss.  To hear Cathi being interviewed on this show, click on the following link:  www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley011509.mp3  For more information, you can e-mail Cathi at:  clammert@nationalshare.org

Mother’s Day Flowers

By Beth Seyda -

It was back in 1998 that I was finally eligible to celebrate my first Mother’s Day.  Our first child, Dylan, had been born in the fall of 1997 after many years of fertility issues.  But when that May holiday came around, one that I had longed to be a part of, it was a bitter-sweet day.  Yes, I was a mother, but now without a child.  Our sweet baby lived for only two weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit and died peacefully in our arms. 

I struggled that first Mother’s Day - I wanted to celebrate, I had been so happy being a mom to Dylan while I was pregnant with him and during his brief life.  I wanted to honor our mother-son relationship, even though the pain from the loss was still palpable. 

I recalled how others had supported us and what I found comforting.  Family and friends had given us numerous plants, bushes, and flowers in memory of Dylan which were growing outside in our front and back yards.  It’s an understatement that I do not have a green thumb, so I welcomed the beautiful daffodils, crocus, azalea and butterfly bushes that were now blooming.  I loved being outdoors and admiring Mother Nature’s miracles.  With Dylan’s birth and death occurring only weeks from each other, being reminded of the circle of life connected with me.

So, on my first Mother’s Day I started what has become an annual ritual: planting flowers (usually hardy geraniums) in clay pots that adorn our back deck.  Getting my hands into the dirt and helping these flowers take root and thrive continue to be healing as I reflect upon how Dylan nourished my soul and helped me become a mom. 

There were many tears as I planted flowers those first Mother’s Days.  But it always brought me such joy to see the fruits of my labors as the spring unfolded into summer and fall, and as I watched hummingbirds gather nectar from these flowers. 

Now, many years later and mother to 7-year old Tyler, this Mother’s Day I will once again be out on our deck planting flowers - proudly and gratefully remembering all our children. 

Beth Seyda’s life was transformed in 1997 with the birth and death of her critically ill newborn son, Dylan.  She combines her 25+ years of professional experience in consumer research with her personal experience as Co-Founder and Executive Director of Compassionate Passages, Inc. The mission of her non-profit organization is to give a voice to pediatric patients and their families through advocacy, education, and research with the goal of improving pediatric end-of-life care and providing support to dying children and their families.  Compassionate Passages donates the book Empty Cradle, Broken Heart: Surviving the Death of Your Baby to bereaved families. 

Beth lives in Chapel Hill, N.C., with her husband, Mark, and their 7-year old son, Tyler.  To learn more about Beth’s non-profit organization, go to: www.compassionatepassages.org

Little People with Big Hurts

By Cathi Lammert, RN -

Most children who have a sibling that dies due to a pregnancy loss, stillbirth or in the first few months of life will experience a grief reaction.  However, often times, their grief is overlooked or discounted. Parents may be so overwhelmed by their own grief that they are unable to assist their children with their issues. Parents often ask me “Will my child be negatively affected by the death of their baby sibling?”  I have to say the answer to this question is, “Usually not, if the child’s grief is acknowledged.” In this article, I hope to provide some direction in ways to assist little people with their big hurts and ways to validate their feelings.

In Helping Children Cope with the Unexplained Death of Infant, the author, Dr. Charles Corr, outlines four basic psychological tasks that comfort grieving youngsters. These include:  Understanding what has happened, identifying and validating their feelings, commemorating the life of the sibling(s) who died, and learning to live and love again.¹ In the following paragraphs, I will address each of these tasks and provide insight and direction from my own experiences. In assisting with the difficult journey of grieving, one should note that a child’s personality, past life experiences, developmental stage, and past reactions to loss will affect his/her reaction to the death of a sibling.

Understanding What Has Happened

Very young children ages two and under do not fully understand what has happened, but they are aware of a change in their parent’s behavior.  Children sense that their lives have changed dramatically, and they may become irritable or clingy. Sometimes parents may not have the energy to meet the many emotional and physical demands of their little ones during the demands of their own intense grief. It is important to try to maintain a normal routine even if it requires the assistance of family and friends with the child’s care.

Preschool children need to have things explained in very concrete terms. We need to be careful with our words; children become confused with statements that are not literally clear, for instance things such as “the baby is sleeping with God.” This statement may cause them to be fearful of sleep and of God.  Also, children of this age do not understand the finality of death and think heaven is a place one can visit temporarily and that the baby is coming back after a while.  Parents may become frustrated as children have repeated questions.  Often simple answers will suffice as children do not want detailed explanations. As the child matures, he/she will have a better concept of death.

School-age children are often frightened by death. They may have fears of sleeping alone or being apart from their family. They may need extra reassurances and more time with you.  Also, children of this age are very curious. Of course, this means they ask many questions and want more detailed explanations. All questions need to be answered and if we as parents do not respond to these questions, their peers will. Other children’s explanations may confuse and upset them even more.

Identifying and Validating Feelings

Parents have shared with me their concern about their preschooler because he or she is sad one minute and happy the next. Preschoolers grieve in spurts and the intensity is not as great as that of an older child. Often, children of this age will act out their feelings through their play. This is very therapeutic and is a way for them to positively release their feelings. Like adults, children respond to grief in many different ways. They may act out their anger by being destructive. It is important to acknowledge this anger and frustration so they can move past it. It can be helpful for them to have a punching bag or pillow to release those feelings. It is also important to have conversations about the loss your family has experienced and how your child has responded to the death with the child’s teachers, coaches, scout masters, and other caregivers. It is helpful to also give these individuals some bereavement literature on ways to help children with the death of a baby.

Commemorating the Life of the Sibling(s) Who Died

A large number of people in our society believe children should not be exposed to death. Parents often are not sure if they should include their child/ren at the time of loss, at the funeral or in the commemorating in the years to come. Parents know   their children better than anyone so these decisions are very personal and what is right for one many not feel right for another.

The parents of children who experience early pregnancy loss may find it more difficult to commemorate this life as often the only tangible evidence they have is an ultrasound picture.  Some commemorative ideas that families experiencing early losses have used are organizing a memorial service at their church, participating in a quarterly group burial service, or having a private intimate service with their family. Others have planted a tree or designed a garden.  Some families find connecting to a specific object such as a teddy bear or a piece of jewelry for themselves and the children is meaningful.

When there is a funeral and a viewing of the baby, sometimes parents are not sure about how to involve the children. The child may or may not have seen the baby at the hospital.  Talking to them about the choice and informing them what to expect at the viewing and the funeral helps the child and parent make a decision.  Some children may come to just the viewing and not the funeral and some want to be a part of the entire ritual. It is always helpful to have someone there to support the child/ren in case the parents need to leave.

Most children love to draw, color or write poems or letters.  Giving them the opportunity to create a special picture or letter to place in the casket may bring them comfort. Children loved to have their own keepsakes and may find having a special stuffed animal, piece of jewelry, baby’s handprints or footprints, and/or baby’s picture quite helpful. This connection to the baby may be a treasure for years to come.

Annual memorial services or walks held by support groups are a wonderful way to involve children. Sometimes at the time of the loss, the children may not have been a part of the initial ritual. Group memorials are opportunities to share with other bereaved families and a means to positively remember their baby.  This may be the first time a child has had an opportunity to remember their sibling.  At memorial services, children as well as parents can participate by writing a message on their balloon and releasing it, placing a holiday ornament on a tree or lighting their own candle.  

Lastly, family rituals such as placing flowers on the grave, releasing balloons, lighting candles, planting special plants etc in honor of the baby on birthdays, anniversaries, and other difficult days can be helpful. Some families have found planning something special with their children during those remembrance days such as an outing to movie, dinner or even a day trip is a positive means of healing with their family.   

Learning to Live and Love Again

Children will not forget their experience of having a baby brother or sister die.  However, they will be able to lead productive, wonderful lives if given permission to openly mourn and have their feelings validated. They need support and understanding of their grief in order to be able to integrate this loss into their lives.  As they move through each developmental stage, new questions may be asked, and they may need more in-depth answers.  This does not mean they are regressing, but rather they are maturing and need to clarify some issues in their hearts and minds. Some children adjust to this loss easier and others need extra help with a support group or therapist. 

In closing, your children are often your greatest source of comfort. Their openness and non-judgmental attitudes may allow you to express yourself and give permission to talk about your baby.  Bereaved children have learned about grief at often a very young age. However, often with a grief experience, growth does occur and gifts such as compassion and kindness follow. These may be the best of many gifts their brother or sister has left them.

¹Charles Corr, PhD., Building Blocks:  Helping Children Cope with the Sudden and Unexplained Death of an Infant, (SIDS Resources, Inc. Missouri Department of Health, Division of Administration, P.O. Box 570, Jefferson City, MO)

Sharing Newsletter: Volume 18, Issue 1; National Share Office, www.nationalshare.org

Cathi Lammert, R.N., is Executive Director of the National Office of SHARE Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. www.nationalshare.org.  As a bereaved parent, Cathi combines her personal experience with her education and professional background as an obstetrical nurse. Her son, Christopher Michael lived just 4 days and died due to Hydrops Fetalis, a complication of Rh sensitization.  Cathi was a guest on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart with Dr. Gloria & Dr. Heidi Horsley, to discuss Finding Help and Hope After Pregnancy Loss.  To hear Cathi being interviewed on this show, click on the following link:  www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley011509.mp3  For more information, you can e-mail Cathi at:  clammert@nationalshare.org

Healing from Within with guests Tracy Swanson and Susan Toro

From Healing the Grieving Heart radio, March 12, 2009

Listen to radio show archive: MP3 Link

1st Guest: Tracy Swanson is the Executive Director of “Empty Cradle” a nonprofit support group for parents who have experienced the loss of a baby through early pregnancy loss, stillbirth or infant death. Volunteer parents have offered emotional support, friendship and community education since the group was organized in January 1982.

2nd Guest: Suzanne Toro’s personal experience of pregnancy loss and seeing her husband through a course of cancer treatment has reawakened her true life purpose to be of service. She is the author of Bare Naked Bliss and host of karmadharma radio Radio.

Listen to radio show archive: MP3 Link

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