This was sent to me by a friend, who also happens to be a grief counselor.
1. I wish my child had not died. I wish I had her back.
2. I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and is very important to me. I need to hear that she is important to you, also.
3. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it is not because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.
4. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you would not shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.
5. I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of any day.
6. I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know those things through a phone call, a card or note, or a really big hug.
7. I wish you would not expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.
8. I am working very hard on my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that she died.
9. I wish you would not expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time, so do not frustrate yourself.
10. I do not want to have a "pity party", but I wish you would let me grieve. The pain is overwhelming; it will take time to learn how to survive with this nightmare.
11. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I am feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.
12. When I say, "I'm doing okay", I wish you could understand that I do not "feel" okay and that I struggle daily.
13. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I am having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So, please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.
14. Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that it is an accomplishment sometimes to handle an hour at a time.
15. Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.
16. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with her. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
17. I wish very much that you could understand -- understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. But I pray daily that you will never understand.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
An Empty Crib
Yes, it's still up. It's still standing in its corner of the room once shared by my girls, now a room where no one sleeps.
The room still smells like Maggie, something that hasn't been lost on anyone. It's undeniably Maggie in there and while it makes my heart ache, it's somewhat of a comfort. Somewhat.
I go back and forth between feeling ready to "move on" to feeling like that'll be leaving her somehow. I know she'll always be here with us, but the thought of getting rid of her things makes me sick.
My mom had the horrific and emotional task of removing most of her clothes to spare me the agony of stumbling across them every two seconds. Everything's in bags/boxes under the crib, along with her Bumbo chair and other baby gadgets.
It's comforting to know it's still there in case I ever need to breathe it all in. But really, it's time, isn't it? Piper refuses to sleep in there, which is completely understandable. She shared that room with her baby sister and she knows that's where she died. Who can blame her, right?
I miss sleeping with my husband and I hate that he spends his nights on the couch. It makes me feel sad and lonely and guilty. I just wish I could feel okay with taking this final step so Piper can have her room back. So we can paint and decorate and get her new bed set up. So Ryan and I can feel like a married couple again, and not roommates.
I just don't know if I'm ready yet. And I guess if I don't know, then that probably means I'm not. Right?
The room still smells like Maggie, something that hasn't been lost on anyone. It's undeniably Maggie in there and while it makes my heart ache, it's somewhat of a comfort. Somewhat.
I go back and forth between feeling ready to "move on" to feeling like that'll be leaving her somehow. I know she'll always be here with us, but the thought of getting rid of her things makes me sick.
My mom had the horrific and emotional task of removing most of her clothes to spare me the agony of stumbling across them every two seconds. Everything's in bags/boxes under the crib, along with her Bumbo chair and other baby gadgets.
It's comforting to know it's still there in case I ever need to breathe it all in. But really, it's time, isn't it? Piper refuses to sleep in there, which is completely understandable. She shared that room with her baby sister and she knows that's where she died. Who can blame her, right?
I miss sleeping with my husband and I hate that he spends his nights on the couch. It makes me feel sad and lonely and guilty. I just wish I could feel okay with taking this final step so Piper can have her room back. So we can paint and decorate and get her new bed set up. So Ryan and I can feel like a married couple again, and not roommates.
I just don't know if I'm ready yet. And I guess if I don't know, then that probably means I'm not. Right?
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Maggie's Story
I found out I was pregnant December 3, 2007, and to say I was shocked is an understatement. I only took a test because I couldn’t believe how ravenously hungry I had been for the past few days. So, Monday morning, I peed on a stick (POAS) before work and about fell over when I saw the telltale second line. In all the months of charting, and temping, and POASing, I had never seen a second line. Wow. I somehow managed to go to work and be productive during the day. After work, I took another test and forced my sister to come over and look for herself. She saw it too. Holy shit!
The next day, Tuesday, I took yet another test (I know, right?), got another BFP (big fat positive) and was finally able to do something I’d been planning for 2+ years: I went to Von Maur and bought a “I’m The Big Sister” shirt for Piper. This is how I had wanted to tell Ryan. He got home that night and I took him into our room. I held up the shirt and he said “Oh, who’s that for?” I just looked at him. “Um, it’s for Piper!” BIG hug and smiles all around. We decided to hold off on telling Piper until after my first appointment. I didn’t want to get her all excited and have something go wrong.
I told my parents the next night by showing them a digital pregnancy test – the look on my dad’s face was priceless! My mom cried, of course.
Fast forward to Friday, December 21, 2007. I was 6w1d (6 weeks, 1 day) and had been having some cramps and was FREAKED. So, I went to the ER. My first appointment wasn’t for another few weeks and I just had to know there was something there. And there was. Maybe my mind played tricks on me, making me think I was in pain. Whatever the reason, I had never been so happy to see something as beautiful as that tiny flicker. There was a BABY. We told Piper the next day and she was thrilled.
My pregnancy was suckish, not at all like mine with Piper. I was nauseous all the time, gagging on everything, had a headache almost everyday, had bladder infection after bladder infection (I think 8 or 9 total?), and didn’t gain much weight. Towards the end, I was getting weekly NSTs (non stress tests) and ultrasounds to check baby and my amniotic fluid level. Baby was fine, my level was very low. Low enough that Dr. W decided (after u/s #12) that it was time to take Maggie, 12 days early. My c/s had been scheduled for August 7, but she didn’t feel comfortable with waiting that much longer, seeing as I was losing fluid. That’s scary.
Our beautiful baby girl was born at 11:28 a.m. on Saturday, August 2, 2008. She weighed 6 pounds, 7ounces and was 17.5 inches long. She was my itty bitty. But she came out screaming and that was the most beautiful noise I had ever heard. Piper was very, very quiet when she was born; Maggie wanted us to know she was here. They gave her to Ryan and he brought her to me. I barely got to kiss her before they whisked her off to the nursery. Her temp was low and they wanted to get her warmed up. I had no idea that I wouldn’t get to see her again for another 24 hours.
Her blood sugar levels were all out of whack so she had to stay in the nursery and be monitored. Ryan was able to go and be with her, as were my parents, but I only saw pictures for that first day. Surprisingly, I wasn’t all that upset. I just wanted her to be okay and I wanted to be okay. My iron level was extremely low, so low that Dr. W was *this* close to giving me a transfusion, and I really just wanted to feel better. I had felt so shitty for so long and I knew Maggie was in good hands.
The lactation consultant brought my baby girl to me the next day and I couldn’t believe just how beautiful she was. We struggled for close to 30 minutes to get her to latch on when I finally barked at the LC that I just wanted to LOOK at my little girl and I would worry about the breastfeeding later. I memorized every single detail of that precious little one. I was head over heels in love, again.
The next morning Dr. H, the girls’ pediatrician, came to talk to me and said something along the lines of, “Maggie’s palate is a bit high.” I figured out the next day that he was just being gentle with a new mom, and for that I will always be grateful. He didn’t want to freak me out. She had a cleft in her soft palate, which is why she wasn’t able to latch on and why bottle feeding her was also very difficult. I didn’t care. She was beautiful, and precious, and mine, so we’d do whatever we had to do.
At just 5 days old, we took her to meet Dr. C at UIHC’s otolaryngology department and I had never met a nicer man! He made sure to tell me first thing that I had done nothing wrong, that I had not caused her cleft palate, and that I was a good mom. Gotta love hearing that! We were told she would have surgery around a year of age to fix the cleft and that she would never have to have another surgery after that. He also told us that she would be very susceptible to ear infections because of the cleft, so I decided then and there that I would be staying home with her.
That was the best decision I’ve ever made. Ever. I had almost 9 beautiful months with her and I will always feel lucky because of that. Maggie was one of the most calm, happy babies I had ever been around. Her smile was so contagious and she could brighten up anyone’s day. She was the best sleeper and always woke up singing, talking, chirping. I miss those moments when she didn’t think anyone was around and she’d just jabber away in her crib.
She ended up having quite a few ear infections so she got tubes in December. She was like a whole new baby! I couldn’t believe it! We had been concerned from day one that her hearing was very impaired (she failed pretty much every hearing test) but after the tubes, all that changed. She was responding to noise, looking around all the time and just seemed so much happier. God, she was amazing.
When she died, she was just 4 days shy of 9 months and was learning all kinds of new things. She was sitting up like a pro and was starting to push herself up on her hands and knees/toes. She put everything in her mouth – everything – and loved crackers. She was starting to get used to baby food, but boy did she love her bottle! And I so loved feeding her. She was so cute when she’d hold the bottle all by herself; such a big girl!
The day she died was a beautiful day. It was cool but not cold and sunny. It was just a perfect spring day. We had a great morning and she was in the best mood. We went to Grandma Elaine’s house and left Piper there so she could play. Maggie and I came back for a bottle and a nap, and she actually fell asleep on my shoulder. She never did that. I wish I would have just held her. As sad as I am, the last moment I had with her was one of the sweetest, most beautiful moments any mother could have. A full-bellied, sleeping baby cuddled in your arms – nothing could be sweeter.
I love you and miss you, Maggie May.
The next day, Tuesday, I took yet another test (I know, right?), got another BFP (big fat positive) and was finally able to do something I’d been planning for 2+ years: I went to Von Maur and bought a “I’m The Big Sister” shirt for Piper. This is how I had wanted to tell Ryan. He got home that night and I took him into our room. I held up the shirt and he said “Oh, who’s that for?” I just looked at him. “Um, it’s for Piper!” BIG hug and smiles all around. We decided to hold off on telling Piper until after my first appointment. I didn’t want to get her all excited and have something go wrong.
I told my parents the next night by showing them a digital pregnancy test – the look on my dad’s face was priceless! My mom cried, of course.
Fast forward to Friday, December 21, 2007. I was 6w1d (6 weeks, 1 day) and had been having some cramps and was FREAKED. So, I went to the ER. My first appointment wasn’t for another few weeks and I just had to know there was something there. And there was. Maybe my mind played tricks on me, making me think I was in pain. Whatever the reason, I had never been so happy to see something as beautiful as that tiny flicker. There was a BABY. We told Piper the next day and she was thrilled.
My pregnancy was suckish, not at all like mine with Piper. I was nauseous all the time, gagging on everything, had a headache almost everyday, had bladder infection after bladder infection (I think 8 or 9 total?), and didn’t gain much weight. Towards the end, I was getting weekly NSTs (non stress tests) and ultrasounds to check baby and my amniotic fluid level. Baby was fine, my level was very low. Low enough that Dr. W decided (after u/s #12) that it was time to take Maggie, 12 days early. My c/s had been scheduled for August 7, but she didn’t feel comfortable with waiting that much longer, seeing as I was losing fluid. That’s scary.
Our beautiful baby girl was born at 11:28 a.m. on Saturday, August 2, 2008. She weighed 6 pounds, 7ounces and was 17.5 inches long. She was my itty bitty. But she came out screaming and that was the most beautiful noise I had ever heard. Piper was very, very quiet when she was born; Maggie wanted us to know she was here. They gave her to Ryan and he brought her to me. I barely got to kiss her before they whisked her off to the nursery. Her temp was low and they wanted to get her warmed up. I had no idea that I wouldn’t get to see her again for another 24 hours.
Her blood sugar levels were all out of whack so she had to stay in the nursery and be monitored. Ryan was able to go and be with her, as were my parents, but I only saw pictures for that first day. Surprisingly, I wasn’t all that upset. I just wanted her to be okay and I wanted to be okay. My iron level was extremely low, so low that Dr. W was *this* close to giving me a transfusion, and I really just wanted to feel better. I had felt so shitty for so long and I knew Maggie was in good hands.
The lactation consultant brought my baby girl to me the next day and I couldn’t believe just how beautiful she was. We struggled for close to 30 minutes to get her to latch on when I finally barked at the LC that I just wanted to LOOK at my little girl and I would worry about the breastfeeding later. I memorized every single detail of that precious little one. I was head over heels in love, again.
The next morning Dr. H, the girls’ pediatrician, came to talk to me and said something along the lines of, “Maggie’s palate is a bit high.” I figured out the next day that he was just being gentle with a new mom, and for that I will always be grateful. He didn’t want to freak me out. She had a cleft in her soft palate, which is why she wasn’t able to latch on and why bottle feeding her was also very difficult. I didn’t care. She was beautiful, and precious, and mine, so we’d do whatever we had to do.
At just 5 days old, we took her to meet Dr. C at UIHC’s otolaryngology department and I had never met a nicer man! He made sure to tell me first thing that I had done nothing wrong, that I had not caused her cleft palate, and that I was a good mom. Gotta love hearing that! We were told she would have surgery around a year of age to fix the cleft and that she would never have to have another surgery after that. He also told us that she would be very susceptible to ear infections because of the cleft, so I decided then and there that I would be staying home with her.
That was the best decision I’ve ever made. Ever. I had almost 9 beautiful months with her and I will always feel lucky because of that. Maggie was one of the most calm, happy babies I had ever been around. Her smile was so contagious and she could brighten up anyone’s day. She was the best sleeper and always woke up singing, talking, chirping. I miss those moments when she didn’t think anyone was around and she’d just jabber away in her crib.
She ended up having quite a few ear infections so she got tubes in December. She was like a whole new baby! I couldn’t believe it! We had been concerned from day one that her hearing was very impaired (she failed pretty much every hearing test) but after the tubes, all that changed. She was responding to noise, looking around all the time and just seemed so much happier. God, she was amazing.
When she died, she was just 4 days shy of 9 months and was learning all kinds of new things. She was sitting up like a pro and was starting to push herself up on her hands and knees/toes. She put everything in her mouth – everything – and loved crackers. She was starting to get used to baby food, but boy did she love her bottle! And I so loved feeding her. She was so cute when she’d hold the bottle all by herself; such a big girl!
The day she died was a beautiful day. It was cool but not cold and sunny. It was just a perfect spring day. We had a great morning and she was in the best mood. We went to Grandma Elaine’s house and left Piper there so she could play. Maggie and I came back for a bottle and a nap, and she actually fell asleep on my shoulder. She never did that. I wish I would have just held her. As sad as I am, the last moment I had with her was one of the sweetest, most beautiful moments any mother could have. A full-bellied, sleeping baby cuddled in your arms – nothing could be sweeter.
I love you and miss you, Maggie May.
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