Today's topic is courtesy of Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope Monthly Writing Challenge: Write about something special a friend, family member, or other loved one did for you after your baby died that really touched your heart.
After Willow died my friends and family were suddenly at a loss for words. What do you say to a woman that lost the baby inside of her, during her second trimester. And I don't blame them, if I was them at that time I wouldn't know what to say either. While some friends, coworkers and even family avoided me, others reached out the only way they knew how. I received caring cards, fragrant flowers and even a GIANT fruit basket. Some people baked dishes and dropped off treats. I appreciated all the kind gestures. But, by far the sweetest thing anyone has ever done since my baby died was to say her name. Willow. Willow wasn't a fetus or a product of conception. She wasn't just any baby. She was my daughter and she was alive inside of me for 5 1/2 months. She had a name and it was Willow. I'm not afraid to say her name aloud, no matter how sad her loss is to me.
If you know someone who has lost a child, acknowledgment is very important to them. Acknowledge their baby, their baby's birthday, the anniversary of their baby's death or just simply call them by their name. It's the sweetest thing you can do for a baby-loss mother.
Showing posts with label Willow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Willow. Show all posts
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, November 15, 2010
11/15/09
This is my post 3 days after I delivered Willow Rose. It is difficult to read because I can recall the amount of grief I felt as I tried to write this entry on that day... at that moment. I thought I would never be able to get past that pain, which I still feel but with a lot less sting. This was the beginning of my blogging experience, which proved to be an important outlet for the pain I felt.
Willow Rose Wardlow was stillborn on November 12th, 2009 @ 7:03pm. She was 7.87 inches and only a mere 4 ounces. She is in God's arms, but she will always be in our hearts.
The days since Tuesday, November 10th have been a blur. What was supposed to be a happy day turned tragic. Will met me at the Dr's office, CD-R in hand. We were ready to get pictures and video of our baby girl, but instead we heard the words... "Your baby's heart is no longer beating". I couldn't stop crying as Will tried to keep his strength and ask every question he could think of. We were told the baby had stopped growing around 17 weeks. We don't know for sure how long she had been dead. How could this happen?
We delivered her 3 days later at St. Joseph Hospital. I held her tiny fingers in my hand and cradled her miniature body as I tried to memorize every feature. All the dreams I had for my baby vanished. Everything seemed surreal, like a bad dream. Dear God, please let me wake up.
Days later, my milk came in. Another horrible reminder of our baby who was lost. We avoid saying the word "baby" so Olivia doesn't talk about being a big sister or the baby in mommy's tummy. We are just hoping she forgets. But we know we will never forget our baby girl, Willow.
Willow Rose Wardlow was stillborn on November 12th, 2009 @ 7:03pm. She was 7.87 inches and only a mere 4 ounces. She is in God's arms, but she will always be in our hearts.
The days since Tuesday, November 10th have been a blur. What was supposed to be a happy day turned tragic. Will met me at the Dr's office, CD-R in hand. We were ready to get pictures and video of our baby girl, but instead we heard the words... "Your baby's heart is no longer beating". I couldn't stop crying as Will tried to keep his strength and ask every question he could think of. We were told the baby had stopped growing around 17 weeks. We don't know for sure how long she had been dead. How could this happen?
We delivered her 3 days later at St. Joseph Hospital. I held her tiny fingers in my hand and cradled her miniature body as I tried to memorize every feature. All the dreams I had for my baby vanished. Everything seemed surreal, like a bad dream. Dear God, please let me wake up.
Days later, my milk came in. Another horrible reminder of our baby who was lost. We avoid saying the word "baby" so Olivia doesn't talk about being a big sister or the baby in mommy's tummy. We are just hoping she forgets. But we know we will never forget our baby girl, Willow.
Friday, November 12, 2010
365 Days
Wow! What a journey. I can't believe it's been 1 year since we said goodbye to Willow Rose. The events leading up to that day are still fresh in my mind. Even certain smells can trigger a memory of Willow.
Losing a child is a terrible thing to happen to anyone. It becomes even more complicated if that child never lived outside the womb. I will always consider Willow my third child. I miss Willow so much, but I am thankful for Gabriel. I am also thankful Will and I had enough courage to try to conceive again after such a devastating loss.
It hasn't been easy this week, but I have to admit Gabriel was a good distraction. A good friend from church stopped by on Willow's "Angelversary" and was so sweet to bring pink roses in memory of Willow. I displayed them next to the angel statute and her urn in our living room. It was a day filled with a plethora of emotions. I laughed, I reminisced and of course I cried.
365 days after I lost Willow, I still wonder "Why?" What was the reason for this loss. I still don't know why she died, or how exactly I am supposed to do to honor her, but I will continue to try my best. For now, it's important to me that her memory lives on and I continue to tell Willow's story.
Friday, January 1, 2010
20 Wishes
1. I wish you wouldn't be afraid to mention my baby. Just telling me you don't know what to say is okay. Sometimes I just need someone to listen.
2. I wish that you wouldn't make it awkward for me to talk about my baby. Just because I cry doesn't mean I don't want to talk about her.
3. I wish you wouldn't forget my baby. It's okay to bring her up more than once. She's on my mind everyday.
4. I wish you wouldn't think of my baby as one bad memory. I have many good memories of all the days I was pregnant. All the love I feel for my baby could never be considered a bad memory.
5. I wish you wouldn't pretend my baby didn't really exist. She was very real.
6. I wish you wouldn't assume I should be over this. Grief is very personal and everybody handles it differently.
7. I wish you wouldn't think that just because I'm having a good day that I'm "over it". I may smile and laugh and get through the day, just to cry myself to sleep at night.
8. I wish you wouldn't avoid me. Isolation only makes things harder to deal with.
9. I wish you would be patient with me.
10. I wish you would call my baby by her name, Willow.
11. I wish you wouldn't put a time limit on my grief.
12. I wish you would understand that although you may not have had the chance to see my baby, she is very real. I felt her, I smelled her and I held her.
13. I wish you would remember important dates such as her birth date or my due date. I will be thinking of her a lot during these days and I would like to know you have not forgotten.
14. I wish you would understand that losing my baby has changed me. I will never be the exact same person I was before.
15. I wish you wouldn't "remind" me that I have two other children. I know I have two children that I have already been blessed with, but I want my third baby as well. My children are not interchangeable.
16. I wish you wouldn't tell me about your neighbor's sister's best friend who lost 20 babies before carrying one to term.
17. I wish you wouldn't think that giving me "space" is the answer. You may be my only support system.
18. I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women and newborns is uncomfortable to me. The truth is, I feel jealous.
19. I wish you wouldn't say "It was meant to be" or "She's better off now". I don't think of it that way. I think my baby would be better off with me. That's how things were meant to be!
20. I wish you would understand that just because we are trying again doesn't mean we are trying to replace our baby. There is no guarantee that we will get pregnant again. And if we do, we will be anxious as we approach every milestone... second trimester, the date we lost Willow, etc... We will remain hopeful, but we will still fear that something could go wrong again.
2. I wish that you wouldn't make it awkward for me to talk about my baby. Just because I cry doesn't mean I don't want to talk about her.
3. I wish you wouldn't forget my baby. It's okay to bring her up more than once. She's on my mind everyday.
4. I wish you wouldn't think of my baby as one bad memory. I have many good memories of all the days I was pregnant. All the love I feel for my baby could never be considered a bad memory.
5. I wish you wouldn't pretend my baby didn't really exist. She was very real.
6. I wish you wouldn't assume I should be over this. Grief is very personal and everybody handles it differently.
7. I wish you wouldn't think that just because I'm having a good day that I'm "over it". I may smile and laugh and get through the day, just to cry myself to sleep at night.
8. I wish you wouldn't avoid me. Isolation only makes things harder to deal with.
9. I wish you would be patient with me.
10. I wish you would call my baby by her name, Willow.
11. I wish you wouldn't put a time limit on my grief.
12. I wish you would understand that although you may not have had the chance to see my baby, she is very real. I felt her, I smelled her and I held her.
13. I wish you would remember important dates such as her birth date or my due date. I will be thinking of her a lot during these days and I would like to know you have not forgotten.
14. I wish you would understand that losing my baby has changed me. I will never be the exact same person I was before.
15. I wish you wouldn't "remind" me that I have two other children. I know I have two children that I have already been blessed with, but I want my third baby as well. My children are not interchangeable.
16. I wish you wouldn't tell me about your neighbor's sister's best friend who lost 20 babies before carrying one to term.
17. I wish you wouldn't think that giving me "space" is the answer. You may be my only support system.
18. I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women and newborns is uncomfortable to me. The truth is, I feel jealous.
19. I wish you wouldn't say "It was meant to be" or "She's better off now". I don't think of it that way. I think my baby would be better off with me. That's how things were meant to be!
20. I wish you would understand that just because we are trying again doesn't mean we are trying to replace our baby. There is no guarantee that we will get pregnant again. And if we do, we will be anxious as we approach every milestone... second trimester, the date we lost Willow, etc... We will remain hopeful, but we will still fear that something could go wrong again.
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