Ways you can help me

So, a lot of people have asked me lately what they could do to help and until now I haven’t had an answer. But as I was laying in bed at 6:30 am this morning unable to sleep, I finally came up with a few ways that you CAN help me, and this may sound rude but here it goes:

1. If you are a chronic “glass half full” type of person chances are I won’t want to see you right now. I am a realist. I understand that the glass is not always half full, nor is it usually half full. Sometimes the glass falls, spills red wine on your new white carpet, shatters, cuts your foot wide open causing you to leave a blood trail across your house that leaves a permanent stain. Then you get a staph infection in that cut which causes you to need your foot cut off but that still isn’t enough and infection gets in your blood stream and kills you. This is life. When a child dies it’s not a “glass half full” type of situation and your attempt to find optimism for me will just make me resent you.

And while we are on the topic of resentment…..

If you don’t have kids - STOP SAYING YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL!!! You don’t know, you couldn’t possibly know. You can imagine how it would feel, but until you become a parent you could never fathom the crazy love you have for your babies. I don’t tell cancer patients I know what chemo is like. I know it sucks but that’s about it. If you want to allow my misery company than tell me that this blows and buy me a beer. When you try and say you know how I am feeling those are considered fighting words. Spare the stories about your dog, your uncle or your cousin’s friend. This just shows a lack of sensitivity (and understanding) to the unique loss of a child.

2. Furthermore, even if you do have kids, you still likely don’t know how I feel. Because if you did, you would understand that you don’t. This is not a one size fits all shoe. Every family is different, and the loss of a child changes every family dynamic differently. For some that means the loss of an only child after 20 years, for others it means the loss of a "baby brother" and having to explain death to a 2 year old. For some it means years of watching your child suffer with a disease, and for others it happens in the blink of an eye.

3.Although I know this is meant well, this is just a personal request. Please don’t tell me Noah is an angel. While highly religious, I don’t believe that dead babies become angels. This sentiment brings me zero comfort and actually starts to creep me out when people tell me that he’s my guardian angel that watches my every move. The thought of my child being an everlasting creeper just doesn’t cheer me up. If you want to fill my head with ideas that bring me comfort then let’s be real. My son is sitting with the angels, hanging out with Jesus and will never know pain. He got to meet his maker blameless as the day the Lord knit him together. Like my Facebook profile picture, I LOVE to imagine him in the arms of Jesus feeling comfort that neither I, or this world, could ever give him.

4. Say his name and say it often, PLEASE don’t make my precious baby the elephant in the room. Although his birth is forever associated with the worst night of my life, it doesn’t change the fact that my second child existed. I love that little boy every bit as much and as strongly as I love Nathan. I am proud of him the same I would be of a living child. He was a fighter. Although he died, he beat some crazy odds against him. He breathed for 2 hours with no lungs. He was considered a miracle and brought me great joy, even if his life did end in tragedy. It doesn’t bother me to talk about it. I didn’t have a lifetime full of happy memories to talk about, but I love to tell you what he looked like. That he had his dad’s nose and his brother’s enormous eyes. He had a little hammertoe just like his big brother. He looked like an exact, albeit tinier, replica of Nathan which thrilled me beyond belief.

5. Please don’t forget that I just had a baby. He may not have come home with me, but my recovery has not been an easy one. I just didn’t get the option to come home, crawl into bed and enjoy my baby like a mother deserves. So please understand when I don’t want to do things right away. I likely wouldn’t want to do anything even if I did bring Noah home with me.

6. And as long as you’re being understanding—I have an overabundance of pregnant friends right now. More of you are pregnant than not it seems, and you are all due right in the ballpark that I was. That said, it’s nothing personal but it’s just too soon to have your blossoming baby bellies and perfect pregnancies paraded under my nose. Let me enjoy your pregnancy from afar. I’m not painting my nursery and picking out baby booties. I am packing my son’s life away in a blue tote. While I am happy for you all and wish you the very best , it feels like salt in a wound to see how perfectly everything is going for everybody else when I had enough things go wrong for 15 pregnancies to be ruined. Please don’t pressure me right now, when I want to hang out I know where to find you. Until then let me grieve alone.

7. To those with kids: please hug them a little closer, kiss them a little more- or if you choose not to, at very least don’t blast all over Facebook what a major inconvenience they are to you. Don’t complain about your kids to me. I see my children as the greatest blessing imaginable. My kids are not a burden on me, they aren’t an inconvenience. Motherhood is not a thankless job. I would lay my life down in a second for my both of my kids. I want my sons like I want air. I had to work hard for them. To me infertility and child loss are not things that happen to other people. They define my life. So, forgive me when I don’t pity you for getting accidentally knocked up…again. Or when your newborn is getting up too much at night, or when you can’t find a babysitter to hit the bar. Let me see you loving your kids and appreciating them because it’s next to impossible for me to watch non-deserving parents being repeatedly blessed with children that they don’t care about or want.

8. Please don’t tell me that at least I have Nathan. He is not a spare car. They are not dogs. If your mom died I wouldn’t tell you “at least you still have your dad” because they are not interchangeable people. While I find a lot of comfort in Nathan, he also has made me aware of the power of a mother’s love and what joy my children bring to my life. It makes my loss seem even more real to me. Please don’t tell me I can have more children either. First of all, kids are not a guarantee to me. Both my boys were miracle babies that I should have never been able to conceive. And even if I was popping babies like a rabbit, my next child will not replace Noah and fill his spot in my heart. He was a unique life that was lost. If your husband died would knowing that you could get a new one make it any better?

9. Please don’t think this is something I need to “get over”. My dreams have been shattered. My family is forever broken. Noah was not an early miscarriage that I could only imagine what would have been, he was not a stillborn, he was not medical waste, he was not just a “fetus”. I held him, he looked just like his brother. He lived from August 6 to August 7. He has a birth certificate and a death certificate, he needed to be buried. I held him in my arms and watched helplessly as his heart stopped beating and he took his last breaths. I held him as he grew cold then I gave him to a nurse that took him away forever. While he wasn’t alive long enough for you to know him, he was very real to me. Don’t expect me to get over this quickly. I am doing the best I can but this has changed me in a way that I won’t bounce back from. Don’t try to cheer me up. Grieving is a process of healing.

10. Finally, thanks to the people out there that have supported me and showered my family with love and generosity. I didn’t know there were so many people out there that cared about us this much and your kindness has been remarkable. It touched my heart to see how many people loved our sweet Noah so much and to know that his life did matter to so many. Thanks for your support and love :)

Psalm 55:22

Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.

John 11:1-57

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent to him, saying, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it he said, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. ...

2 Samuel 12:23

But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” (King David speaking of his infant son who died)