A Lesson Learned

About 8 months ago, I reconnected with a college room-mate. We hadn't seen each other in years, but once we got together we enjoyed some fun outings together. G2 and her son are only two weeks apart in age, and together they are such "boys." :) I was only about 9 weeks pregnant with Tabitha when we first met again, but we had some good talks about pregnancy hopes and disappointments, about kids, about all kinds of important things. I was so excited to learn in early January that she was expecting her second child too.

When we found out that Tabitha had died, I wrote my friend a brief note. But...I never heard anything back. At first I wondered if she had received the note, but I had no reason to believe that she hadn't. Then, I wondered if the whole situation was just too difficult, considering that she is pregnant. Then, when I read (on facebook) her proud status announcement that she was having a girl, I decided she was just insensitive. I was hurt that I hadn't heard from her (and, I'll admit, extremely jealous of her joy, hope, and anticipation for this pregnancy).

Finally, I decided to write her another note to let her know how much her silence has hurt me. It was difficult to write. I didn't know how to write what I was feeling in a way that wouldn't create more hurt and misunderstanding. The note that I eventually sent was very brief--basically just saying that her silence has hurt me. :)

The answer I got back (only a few hours later) was so healing. This really was a case of not knowing what to say, so not saying anything at all; and then, as more time passes, feeling worse about saying something now because so much time has passed without saying anything.

So the lesson learned--for me...that especially now, I shouldn't easily assume a position of hurt or quickly take offense? That I need to communicate my hurt and initiate the connections with people? For my friend...that it is more important to say something than worry about if it is the right thing to say? That not acknowledging our loss is the worst thing to do?

For both of us--

--that friendships have been lost over much less...I'm so glad I sent that note, though I felt so awkward and terrible when doing so.

Words of Advice...

...from five months further on this road of loss.

If you have experienced the death of a child or know someone who has, you will certainly find Molly Piper's series on "How to Help Your Grieving Friend" both relevant and helpful.

You Would Think...

...that after almost 7 weeks I would have long since accepted that Tabitha's birth and death really happened.

But tonight it feels like I just got the news today. I think I'm back at the beginning again.

An Easter Hymn

Alleluia! Alleluia!
Hearts to heaven and voices raise;
sing to God a hymn of gladness,
sing to God a hymn of praise;
He who on the cross an off'ring
for the world's salvation bled,
Jesus Christ, the King of Glory,
now is risen from the dead.

Christ is risen, Christ the first fruits
of the holy harvest field,
which will all its full abundance
at His second coming yield.
Then the golden ears of harvest
will their heads before Him wave,
ripened by His Glorious sunshine
from the furrows of the grave.

Alleluia! Alleluia!
Glory to the Three in One:
to the Father, and the Saviour,
who the victory has won.
Glory to the Holy Spirit
fount of love and sanctity.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
To the Triune Majesty.

Milestone

Today I wore mascara for the first time in six weeks...







...and it wasn't waterproof either!

Congratulations and Condolences

In the days and weeks following Tabitha's still birth, we have received many cards--well over one hundred. It is both overwhelming and encouraging to know how many people grieve with us and are praying for us. All the cards contain similar messages: we're so sorry for your loss; praying for God's strength in this time of grieving; we wish to express our condolences...etc. One card, however, says something slightly but significantly different.

For all appearances, this card looks much like the others. The front is decorated with the images of beautiful flowers and bears the text of Romans 8: 26. "God helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." This text is very beautiful and encouraging, but for me the real beauty of this card comes from what is written inside. Inside this card, an addition to the usual text has been inserted. Where formerly was written simply "With Sympathy", my mother-in-law wrote, "With Congratulations, With Sympathy, and With Love..." This is the only congratulations we have received for Tabitha's birth.

I know that it is a bit much to expect to be congratulated on a birth that has brought such pain and grief, such disappointment and anguish. But at the same time, I have given birth to a daughter, to a beautiful and perfect little girl. Although her passing fills me sorrow, her very existence brings me joy. For nine months I carried her close to my heart. I felt her move; I watched her grow; I longed to meet her face to face.

When we learned that Tabitha no longer had a heartbeat, we were crushed, devastated. Our tears fell as we waited to see her precious face and cradle her tiny body. In those hours of waiting, however, we also talked, we laughed, we prayed. Her passing from earth to heaven before birth has not negated her real existence; it does not detract from her importance to us as a treasured part of our family. It has not meant that we will forget the blessing that we have already received through her. Tabitha herself is not the source of sorrow in my life.

And so, when the intensity of sorrow has lessened and the flood of grief has abated, I fully expect I will be able to think about Tabitha without tears. She will continue to bring me joy. For I have a beautiful daughter--all the more beautiful for being heavenly and teaching me about the fullness of God's grace. Congratulations indeed!

In this special card, my mother-in-law also wrote the following:

This precious child, this tiny baby girl
She only knew the warmth and comfort of her mother's womb
She is loved by her mom and dad, big brother G, and the rest of the family too.
This small baby, so uniquely created by her Heavenly Father who loves her so much that He was willing to die for her.
She is basking in His Heavenly glory and near to Him who said,
"Let the children come to me."
We miss her so much, but she will be there when we join her in God's time.

edit: obviously, I don't expect congratulations, but I do want Tabitha's life to mean more than her death--I hope that comes across here!

The Reading Continues

• Stillborn: The Invisible Death, John Defrain, with Leona Martens, Jan Stork, Warren Stork.

This book is basically the compilation of a research project completed in the 1980s. This group sent out a detailed questionnaire and interviewed hundreds of parents (fathers and mothers) who had experienced stillbirth in their families. Some of the participants had lost their child only a few weeks prior, while some were speaking for the first time about a child who had died up to 40 years earlier. Although this book was published more than 20 years ago, I found was very compelling and encouraging.

• Pregnancy after a Loss: A Guide to Pregnancy after a Miscarriage, Stillbirth, or Infant Death, Carol Cirulli Lanham.

Contrary to what this title might suggest, I would argue that this book is good to read soon after your loss, not when you think you are ready to have another child. Almost half of the book deals with how to cope with your child's death, how to gauge your "progress"--if I may phrase it that way. This author also interviewed many women who lost babies at different stages of gestation and for different reasons. She gives legitimacy to both the impulse of "I want to have another baby right now, as soon as possible"--and the reaction of "I never want to risk that kind of pain and loss again." She gives the reader the tools to assess where she (the reader) is on that continuum.

• Shadow Child: an Apprenticeship in Love and Loss, Beth Powning

I read this book very, very quickly, but it was so riveting. Two quick comments: 1) I am so very thankful that we named Tabitha, held her, took pictures of her, and had our families see and hold her; 2) I need to take time to write about both the experience of having Tabitha and this "aftermath." (And this writing doesn't necessarily need to be a public piece, though something may appear here on this blog in the next few weeks.)

• Holding on to Hope: A pathway through suffering to the heart of God, Nancy Guthrie.

This is probably the most meaningful book that I have read this past week. Nancy Guthrie is not writing specifically about the loss of a child in the broader sense of her audience, but is certainly writing out the experience of such pain. Her daughter, Hope, died of a rare fatal genetic disorder, and shortly after writing this book, she gave birth to a son, Gabriel, who she knew also was afflicted with the syndrome. Guthrie works through the emotions and reactions that grief and disappointment produce, and she moves to a place of accepting and even glorifying God through pain. She uses the story of Job as her guide, which today, for me, gained particular poignancy. Two years ago, while on maternity leave after G's birth, I was able to attend a women's Bible study. We were studying the book of Job. At the end of the weeks of study, one of the older and wiser women suggested that we all share one thing that we learned or treasured from our discussions. Today another woman reminded me of what I had said at the time. I had no recollection of my comments, but God had my own comments come back to encourage me through this woman. How amazing!

And because I am reading other things too--other reading in progress (thus no comments or evaluation):

• How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read, Pierre Bayard
• The Moonstone, Wilkie Collins

Thank you all for the encouraging comments--for giving me the titles of books to read, the assurances of thoughts and prayers being offered up, and the practical suggestions of how to cope.


I'm not sure what I will do when I don't have any more pictures of Tabitha that I want to post, but here are the prints of her sweet little feet:

Currently Reading...

...or have read recently:

• Empty Arms (Hope and Support for Those Who Have Suffered a Miscarriage, Stillbirth or Tubal Pregnancy), Pam Vredevelt

• In A Heartbeat (A journey of hope and healing for those who have lost a baby), Dawn Siegrist Waltman

• Life Touches Life: A mother's story of stillbirth and healing, Lorraine Ash

• Surviving Pregnancy Loss: A complete sourcebook for women and their families, Rochelle Friedman

Without going into detailed reviews at this point, I will say that some of these books were more helpful than others. I also have several books that friends have given me that I haven't really looked at yet--one is I'll Hold You in Heaven by Jack Hayford, and the other, I have to confess, I can't find right now. Some people have recommended a few titles to me that I am going to look for in the next few weeks, but if you have a book about stillbirth, grief and/or loss of a child that you think I should read, please let me know!

I have also been reading some fiction--mostly as a form of escapism, so it is a varied list.

• Nights of Rain and Stars, Mauve Binchy
• Second Honeymoon, Joanna Trollope
• Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear, Katharine Weber ( Book Club #1, JC's choice)
• Home to Holly Springs, Jan Karon

I can't remember the title of the next book for Book Club #2, but my sister has already warned me that I might not want to read it at this point because it is very depressing, and in the first 80 pages there are a number of children, including several babies, that die.

And so, here's my new post. I had to force myself to write this or to abandon this blog. I think the longer I wait, the harder it is to post something to "replace" the pictures of Tabitha--even though I know that's not really what I'm doing.

Those of you who know me well should be reassured that if I'm still reading, then I am coping and managing to some degree, so this is a good thing. :)

Here's another picture, just because: