To say 2015 was a difficult year is an understatement. I went from feeling like I was on top of the world, to drowning in an ocean full of sorrow, anger, and confusion. And tears. Lots and lots of tears.
I started 2015 as an expectant mother. I was seven months pregnant. I felt great emotionally and physically. I even had that pregnancy “glow” people always talk about. More importantly, my baby girl was healthy. All of our OB appointments went well, and her growth was on target. We were well into the “safe” zone. I believed that as long as I continued to do what the doctors recommended (eat well, exercise, stay hydrated, get plenty of sleep) I’d be bringing home my baby girl in no time. I just had to wait a few more months to meet my little girl. We were so close, and yet so far at the same time.
I remember feeling so crushed after my 41 week check-up. I went into the appointment feeling so hopeful that my body was beginning to prepare for labor. I actually looked forward to having my membranes scraped. I was so disappointed when the nurse practitioner told me I was only a half centimeter dilated, and she couldn’t do anything to trigger labor at that point. We agreed to wait until Monday to put the induction order in, with the hope that baby girl would make her entrance over the weekend. I cried when I got home from our last OB appointment. The ultrasounds and non-stress tests appeared normal. But I still felt defeated. I was ready to meet my girl and I just wanted to have her in my arms at that moment. I had waited long enough. I didn’t want to wait another weekend.
Elliot passed away that evening.
I didn’t know it at the time, but she died overnight. She didn’t struggle. There wasn’t any indication that she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She passed peacefully. I didn’t feel much movement the next day. I thought she was resting. It was normal for her to have quiet days. I didn’t feel well so I thought we both were getting ready for labor. It wasn’t until the early morning hours of the following day (Sunday) that I realized something was terribly wrong. I woke my husband in the middle of the night, crying and frantically telling him that something was wrong and we needed to go to the hospital right away.
We weren’t at all prepared to hear those horrific words from the doctor. I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.
I was ashamed and embarrassed. I was broken. I thought I had caused my daughter’s death. I thought everyone would be so angry at me and they’d ask how I could let this happen. I was angry at myself. I hated myself in those moments. I questioned how I could allow this to happen. I tried to search for an explanation. But there wasn’t one, at least not at the time. I didn’t know it was possible for a healthy baby to die that late in pregnancy. There wasn’t any warning or signs of distress. I knew only one thing at that point; my baby was not going home with me.
Elliot was born still on March 30, 2015 at 41w3d. As soon as I saw her, I fell head-over-heals in love with her all over again. In the hours we spent together, nothing else mattered. I knew I’d love her forever and I would never forget her beautiful face. It was then that I realized we were mother and daughter from the moment she was conceived, and that bond will last forever.
When Elliot was born, our time together was limited. My husband and I eventually had to say goodbye to her. I was in such a state of shock from everything else that had happened, that I very calmly said goodbye as the nurse wheeled her out of the room. There would be plenty of time for hysterics later. Trust me, it came.
My husband and I spent the next several months in deep mourning. Sometimes I was so overwhelmed by my grief that I’d just sit at the kitchen counter and cry so hard that my body physically hurt. It was like the grief had wrapped itself around my entire body and squeezed as tight as it could.
How does someone survive something like that? There were plenty of days when I didn’t think it was possible. But we did. We survived. With the support from each other, and the support from our loved ones, we survived the darkest days we’ve ever known. We’re still grieving, but the deep mourning eventually passed. We were able to regain some control in our lives, and now we live each day for Elliot. She’s our motivation to be better people. She makes me want to love more freely and not be afraid to take chances.
When Elliot passed away, I lost hope. I thought she’d be forgotten. I worried that I would never have living children. I was convinced I would never be happy again. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know Elliot will never be forgotten. She’ll always be loved, remembered, and celebrated by me, her dad, and the rest of our family. I have also found happiness again. It’s different than it used to be, but it’s there. It co-exists with the sadness.
I hope 2016 will be a better year for our family. I hope the New Year will bring good things for us. I hope Elliot’s dad and I will continue to find ways to include Elliot in our lives and family celebrations. I hope we’ll continue to lean on each other on the hard days, and I hope I’ll continue to recognize that my life really isn’t bad. It’s just different than how I expected it to be.
It’s different, but it’s still beautiful.
- Finding My Place in a Room Full of Mothers - April 18, 2016
- A Wish for One Ordinary Day - March 30, 2016
- Almost a Full Year - March 2, 2016
My daughter just lost her little girl at 33 weeks, weighing 5 lbs 12 ounces, beautiful but no explanation on why? Heart beat was high at 280 beats per minute. How do I help her, the right counseling is hard to find, any suggestions?
I’m so very sorry for your daughters loss, and for your loss. You are correct, the right counseling can be hard to find. My suggestion, if she wants to see a grief counselor, is to just keep trying until she finds the right one. I started seeing one a couple weeks after my daughter passed away. I went through a few before I found the right one. I also went to a few pregnancy and infant loss group counseling sessions. It was helpful to connect with other bereaved parents in person. My other suggestion is to just be present with her. Let her cry and talk about her experience, if that’s what she wants to do. I know it isn’t easy for you either, but right now she needs to feel heard and loved. Speak your granddaughter’s name. And please, point your daughter in this direction if she hasn’t found Still Mothers yet. She is not alone. You are also not alone. There is a wonderful Still Grandparents page available on Facebook. My mother-in-law is a member of that page and has found it to be very helpful. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Your daughter may also find that reading about perinatal loss is helpful. I read so much in my early days of loss (and still do), pretty much all day long. I was in search of other stories like mine. There are many books about pregnancy and infant loss out there, but I found these books to be especially helpful –
Invisible Mothers by Emily Long – http://emilyrlong.com/books/
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir by Elizabeth McCracken – http://www.amazon.com/An-Exact-Replica-Figment-Imagination/dp/0316027669
A Bed for My Heart by Angela Miller – https://abedformyheart.com/buy/
Another thing that may be helpful is a piece of remembrance jewelry, or something else she can carry with her that reminds her of her daughter.
I needed this….I lost my son 7 years ago he was my 2nd child…My pregnancy didn’t feel right from the beginning at 23weeks 5months I missed a appointment because of the snow My son was born in my bathroom still born in the sac passed away in between my legs in the ambulance… Holding him meant everything don’t even remember for how long then they made me give him to them…My heart hurt and it has ever since…I learned that pain is apart of me…As I sit here asking God to prepare me for this week I been angry because I will never get my answers never hold him never hear his voice but I’m so tired of hurting I love him so much…I was able to have 2children after both preemie but after a long journey they are here. . I cryed myself to sleep last night thinking over and over how NY son will be 7 . I helped any mother that’s come in my path listened even hugged strangers because I know their pain…I’m going to school right now My goal is to open my own office as a Grief counselor… But I’m just so angry I just don’t and no I’ll never have NY answer or hold my son until my time.. .I know this pain is aprt of me BUt I don’t know it to take over my peace because depression doesn’t like me take care of my living children…My family and I include My son in our daily lives each day each birthday each holiday BUT when its his birthday I live that day all over again.. The cemetery makes it worse since everything I placed and come up missing and even moved…I know I will forever grieve and hurt but what do I do please help RIPTO ALL THE BABIES GONE TOO SOON Jonaiel Vega 1/7/09
Oh Leimary, I am so sorry for your loss. Your experience breaks my heart. Your heart hurts so much because you love your son so deeply. It’s heartbreaking, yet so beautiful. It sounds like you are doing wonderful things to honor your son’s memory, especially helping other loss parents. It’s okay to be angry and sad still. I know you must take care of your living children. But you must also be true to yourself and your feelings. You were robbed as a mother. That isn’t fair; life isn’t fair. Please be gentle with yourself. Continue to connect with other bereaved parents, and do what feels right for you. Wishing you the very best and sending you big hugs.
So sorry for your loss. I understand how you feel and thank you for your story. It’s somehow comforting to me that others have similar experiences and have been able to move out of the deep grief and into memorializing your baby. I often do things to keep their memories alive. My first loss was at 14w6d but my baby boy still had a heartbeat, which gave me so much hope after my fluids had been leaking the previous day. Unfortunately I was sent home and he was delivered the next day at home. My second loss was also just as much of a shock as I could feel my baby girl moving all around. She was 20w3d when she was born still. I ,too, take life one day at a time. Sometimes the grief takes over and I just have to let it. It’s been 13 months since I lost my son and 6 weeks since my daughter. I am functional on a regular day however stress can really throw a loop into my ability to function instantly. Moving forward is my goal, although I don’t know what I’m moving forward to.
I’m so sorry for your losses, Shannon. Thank you for sharing your story. My heart breaks for you. Taking life one day at a time is all we can do. Grief is such a difficult thing to deal with, and we’re stuck with it for the rest of our lives. For me, letting myself feel all of the emotions as they come has helped a lot. It is so difficult to just let it all run through you, but I find that I get through the waves more easily if I just give in to them. I miss the days of “knowing” what was around the corner. As we now know, life is unpredictable. My goal is also to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Please remember to be gentle with yourself. You’ve been through so much recently. Take your time getting back into your routine, and life in general. As you know, life is different post loss. Only do what feels right, and do nice things for yourself. Sending you big hugs, mama.
“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.” The EXACT same words they used with me, words that no mother should ever have to hear. I lost my baby in February 2015, found out at the 18 week check up. When they could not find a heartbeat with the doppler, I didn’t expect that anything was wrong with my baby, I just thought the doppler was malfunctioning. They brought me into the ultrasound room, and I was actually excited ( only to be so excruciatingly crushed) because I was going to see an ultrasound of my baby, something that had not happened since the 12 week check up. So you can imagine the shock when they told me those words. Oh the screams that came out of my mouth from deep within my soul, the tears that ran down my face.
I, too, blamed myself for the loss of my baby. If this is something that anyone reading this still struggles with, I recommend EMDR therapy, it helped me out quite a bit.
Anyway, I did not intend to make this about me. I’m so sorry for your loss. I just wanted to let you know that I could relate, as much as any bereaved mother can. Much love and hope for the best for you.
Thank you for sharing your story. You just never expect anything like that to happen. The ultrasound tech went into our room with an ultrasound machine after several failed attempts to find Elliot’s heartbeat. I remember her being so still. I was just in shock and disbelief. I ended up having a second ultrasound but was too afraid to look at the screen again. I’m so sorry for your loss, mama. Big hugs to you. Wishing the best for you too. <3
I recommend Dr Joanne Cacciatore, an expert grief counselor and a stillbirth mother herself. She runs Selah farm, a safe retreat for grieving families. Her approach of acknowledge ment and compassion was life saving for me.