I want to thank those of you who responded to our cries yesterday, on what was supposed to be Calvin’s due date. By bearing witness to our grief, you held us. With each message Louie and I felt lifted up and carried by your love and support.
Thank you, also, to those of who have been willing to pause your lives for a moment or two, and sometimes several moments, to walk alongside us on this painful path we’ve been treading since learning about the difficulties and risks of my pregnancy to this moment, when we feel like we should have Calvin in our arms.
Thank you for being present in our sorrow. Thank you for crying with us. Thank you for admitting that you don’t know what to say. Thank you for validating our feelings. Thank you for just saying “I’m sorry.” Thank you for letting us know when you’re thinking of us and our baby. Most of all, thank you for allowing us to be where we were, to be where we are.
Remembering
by Elizabeth Dent
Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don’t worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn’t show.
Don’t worry about making me cry.
I’m already crying inside.
Help me heal by releasing
The tears that I try and hide.
I’m hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending he didn’t exist.
I’d rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing.
I say “pretty good” or “fine”
But healing is something ongoing.
I feel it will take a lifetime.
Thank You for Remembering
Thank you for your willingness to remember our grief, to remember our son, to speak of such things, to be with us and face us when we are at our lowest, to allow us to be “weak”… These things are more healing than I could ever explain. And I thank God for this blessing – for placing people in our lives who are willing to put themselves in discomfort by sitting with us in our sorrow, by acknowledging the significance of the loss we are experiencing.
Each Gesture You Make Matters
I want you to know that though we may be too overwhelmed or exhausted to respond each time, each time does matter. From seeing that you “like” a Facebook status message in which we speak of our son, to receiving a picture for the Calvin Phoenix Photo Project, to reading text messages or emails, to finding replies/comments on things we post, to hearing “it’s okay” when we say “no” because we are not up to being around other people — We remember each of these things, and we carry them with us.
The title of this piece is from the In Mourning Band™ Campaign. Louie and I wear these bands for our babies.
