Please just say…
- I don’t know what to say: It’s honest. It shows you know the significance of what happened and that there really are no adequate words.
- I am sorry: Simple and sincere goes a long way.
- You’re in my thoughts/prayers: Knowing we are held in your thoughts and lifted up in your prayers means a lot.
- I love you: A reminder that you care makes grief less lonely.
- ((hug)): Loving touch is incredibly healing and can convey much more than platitudes.
- Tell me about your babies: Speaking of my babies is one of the few ways I can still connect with them. Just as other moms like to talk about their living children, so it is with my babies in heaven.
- I may not understand, but I’m here: You can’t know this pain unless you’ve gone through it, and even then each loss is different. Just knowing you will bear witness to this journey is enough.
- I love/miss them, too and I’ll remember: One of my fears is that my babies will be forgotten. Please let me know that you care for them. Please tell me when you think of them.
- You are a mother: One of the most comforting things is validation of the parent-child relationship. Death does not change the fact that I carried their little lives in my womb.
- *tears*: It’s okay to cry with me. I know how badly it hurts.
- CALVIN, RAINBOW, GAELEN: Please, please mention my children by name. Let me know they aren’t forgotten. Acknowledge them as my babies. This is the best way you can show me support and offer comfort.
- They’re in a better place: as a parent, it’s hard to accept that there is a better place for my child than with me, and even though I know being with God is the best place, it won’t stop my longing.
- Anything that begins with At least is probably more hurtful than helpful, undermines my loss, and doesn’t change how painful it is to lose a baby.
- You’re still young: What does age have to do with my grief? It doesn’t diminish my pain in any way. It does make my reunion with my dead babies seem that much further away.
- God needed another angel: Even if I believed my babies turned into angels (who I believe are separate creations from humans), if He needed another angel, there is no reason why God could not create one instead of taking three of my babies. All I feel is the loss of not having them with me.
- You’re baby wasn’t even a baby yet: This was said to me about Calvin by a counselor in the OB department after I said he was 18 weeks when we lost him. One of the worst things I’ve heard. She doesn’t work there anymore.
- Be strong: Allow me to be weak in my grief; my world was just shattered.
- Life goes on: And this is supposed to help me how? I watch the world and everyone else continue living, when all I want is for time to pause, for it to allow me to go back and linger (even for just one more moment) in the spaces when I still had Calvin, had Rainbow, had Gaelen.
- You’re lucky you have your own guardian angels: Please don’t apply “lucky” to the loss of my babies. Would you trade your living children so you could have guardians in heaven?
- Just try again: Each of my babies are individually loved and wanted. They are not inanimate objects that can just be replaced.
- It wasn’t meant to be: If my heaven babies weren’t meant to “be,” why did they come into “being” in my womb? Obviously they were “meant” to die because they are dead. Stating it does not bring me comfort. It doesn’t change the anguish of losing them.
- There are worse things: Maybe for you. Definitely not for me.
Today, I want to share a photo-a-day project I’m participating in called “Capture Your Grief,” which was created by Carly Marie, an amazing force in the babyloss community. It provides a way for bereaved families to process and share their grief during Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month (click the image to read more):
I’m not on an actual computer much these days, because my grateful arms are filled with my earth baby, I decided to participate primarily via Instagram, which you can also see in my right sidebar and via FollowGram or CopyGram. At least for Calvin’s day (and hopefully more), I’m sharing today’s subject, “Memorial,” in this space, my babies’ space:
Day 5: Memorial (April 2011). After our losses, we decided we would start participating in the March of Dimes walk in honor of our babies. Louie created this design, which we printed onto iron-on paper. I love seeing their names together.
My sweet Calvin, I think of you and your sisters everyday. I can’t believe how long it’s been without you. I will always long for you and Rainbow and Gaelen, but I’m grateful to have your baby brother—I know I see glimpses of you in Charlie. We love you so much. We love you always. Happy 3 years and 7 months in heaven, my firstborn.
Posted in Calvin Phoenix, Capturing Grief, Gaelen Evangeline, Grief, Photos, Projects, Rainbow Baby, The 5th Belongs to Calvin, We Remember
Tagged babyloss, Calvin Phoenix, capture your grief, gaelen, instagram, PAIL, rainbow, remembering
For the past 8 days, I’ve been sticking one of these capsules in me when I wake up in the morning and before I got to bed at night. I don’t like it. It’s uncomfortable and messy and sometimes it hurts. But I will keep doing this for the next 237 days if it means I can bring my Bumble Bee home.