Tag Archives: Grief

Ansley’s 7th Birthday

21 Wednesday Mar 2018

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I haven’t written much over the past few years. I will try and do better. Today is Ansley’s Birthday. She would have been 7. I try not to spend too much time thinking about who she would have been or what she would like or dislike. Would she be smart? Silly? Sassy? A girly-girly? Those types of thoughts are not productive for me. What is more productive is to make sure she is remembered within our home.

The week before Christmas our beloved Dog Abbey passed away. She was a few weeks shy of her 12th birthday and lived a great life. I was so worried about how the boys would handle losing Abbey; after all, I was a mess. Abbey had been by the boy’s sides from the moment we brought them home from the NICU, but the boys were strangely at peace. When asked if they were really okay, they asked why wouldn’t they be? Ansley gets to have a dog now, and not just any dog, the BEST dog. It was at that moment I knew I was succeeding at keeping her memory alive. The boys know and love the sister they never met.

Our tradition for Ansley’s birthday is to release balloons with handwritten messages on them. It is our equivalent of sending a card to heaven. The boys wanted to send balloons to both Abbey and Ansley this year, and so we did.

Foreshadowing

15 Tuesday May 2012

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In the days following my first trip out of the house, I decided to try to catch up on some emails.  I was reading emails in small doses as sympathy can be hard to deal with.  I saw a message titled “So sorry”.  I opened the message and read the first line.  My name is Christy and we have some mutual friends.  Although I had never met Christy, I knew exactly who she was.

October 29, 2010… Chris and I went to our friends Matt and Robyn’s new house for a Halloween party.  It was there that I first heard Christy’s story.

She was only a few days away from her due date, when she woke in the middle of the night with a fever.  As she sat in bed, it dawned on her that she had only felt contractions not the baby moving. She woke her parents, whom she had move in with mid-pregnancy, and told them they needed to go to the hospital.  It was there that she received the news that her daughter had passed away.  The doctors induced Christy and her daughter, Evelyn Marie was born the next day.  They later learned she most likely died from a cord injury; the umbilical cord had wrapped around her neck. (www.babyevie.com)

I stood in the kitchen blinking back tears.  I had known several people who had miscarried, but Christy was well past the 12 week danger zone, she was full term.  My heart broke for her.  Little did I know, at that very moment I was pregnant with Ansley.  We would find out I was expecting 5 days later!

The Infamous Question

24 Tuesday Apr 2012

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When the doctor finally lifted my bed rest orders, Chris and I decided I should try to get out of the house some; re-enter the world.  It is funny thing, as much as you can wish for the world to stop turning when going through such a challenging time, that is simply not what happens.  Life goes on but getting back to it is much easier said than done.  It is much like trying to jump onto a moving train.

My first outing was to a nail salon near my house to get a pedicure.  Everything was going fine until the lady tried to make small talk.  Her first question although seemingly innocent was,

Do you have children?

I froze; it was as if the question paralyzed me.  Of course, she assumed I didn’t hear or understand her so she asked me again. I still didn’t answer.

It was that moment that I realized I don’t know how to answer that question.  If I say yes and acknowledge Ansley as my daughter the way I would like to, the questions will continue, with boy or girl, followed by how old until finally I have to say she is dead.  I couldn’t even say her name without crying, so this was probably not the best option if I was going to try to hold it together while in public.  But, if I say no, then I feel incredibly guilty for not acknowledging her.

The third time she asked me, I said no.  It was in a tone of me yelling it at her but in the volume of a whisper.  She didn’t ask any more questions, and I didn’t wait until my toes were dry to leave.  I couldn’t get out of there soon enough.  The guilt from that one little word was almost more than I could bear.

I asked Chris how he would answer that question when he got home.  He was as dumbfound as I was.  Maybe it would be easier if there was a word.  When your husband dies, you become a widow. When your wife dies, you become widower.  When children loose parents they become orphans.  What about when parents loose children?

It has now been over a year and I still struggle with this question.  Sometimes I say yes, but often I say no.  I have been able to justify in my mind that when I say no, I am only speaking about living children.  Do you have rather than have you had.  I realize it is just semantics, but it allows me to sleep at night.

Oh The Things They Will Say…

18 Wednesday Apr 2012

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Upon getting home from the hospital, I was under strict orders. 

Order 1) bed rest

Order 2) very limited company

I was not to get worked up at all as it could cause a major setback. I was seeing the doctor every other day to make sure I was continuing to improve.  My doctor was very careful to keep me as calm as possible in her office.   As soon as I arrived, I was immediately put in a room and was often escorted out a back door as to not come face to face with a pregnant women or new baby.  

At home, her orders gave me the perfect excuse to not talk about what had happened.  It was like a license to crawl into my very own dark hole (aka my bed) and not come out until I was ready.  I was still in the shock and denial phase of my grief, but I was beginning to get a glimpse here and there of pain and/or anger. 

When I finally felt ready to talk or more accurately couldn’t hide any longer; I gradually began letting people back into my life. Many people offered condolences and tons of kind words, but to say I shocked at some of the things said would be a complete and utter understatement.  I appreciate how hard it is to know what to say. I loved hearing people use her name; it provided comfort that she would be remembered. Some of my favorite and most helpful comments were:

–          “That just sucks” – this one was said by someone I wouldn’t expect to use  the word sucks. So it was very meaningful.

–          The classic “I’m sorry” and “Your in my thoughts and prayers”

–          “I know what you are going through… No, I take that back, I don’t know what you are going through, I have not walked in your shoes, but I am sure it is harder than I could even imagine.”

–          And finally, Chris’ grandfather, who is battling cancer and I were both told in one sitting that we looked well, he leaned over and whispered “Don’t we wish.”

 I also want to share some of the things that were less helpful to me and explain why, because some of these statements are not very obvious while others are. In full disclosure, if you think you might have said one of these comments to Chris or me please don’t feel bad; I have come to realize that none of the comments were meant to be hurtful and people only commented because they care and/or wanted to learn about what had happened. 

–          “Your still young” – What does that have to do with anything?  It is okay that I lost my daughter because I am young?

–          “So…Is it like you are allergic to babies?” or “Can your body just not hold a pregnancy?”  –  Really!!! How about a simple What Happened?

–          “You can always have more children” – Well maybe or maybe not.  That is yet to be determined. And even if I can, a new baby won’t replace Ansley.

–          “You have your very own angel now” – I didn’t want and angel, I wanted a baby.  This one I had a particularly hard time with and it is hard to explain why.  It no longer bothers me the way it once did although still not my favorite comment.  In my mind, every time someone called Ansley an angel it made her less of a real person and more of an inanimate object.

–          “God has a plan” ­­–Gotta tell you, I really didn’t like this part of his plan.

–          “Maybe it was for the best” – FOR WHOM?

–          In reference to my delivery, “At least she was small” – A) tell that to my contractions and B) had she been bigger/ stronger, she would have had a much higher survival rate.

–          “Imagine how hard this would be if you had known her” – The most shocking part of this comment was that it was made by a pregnant women.  I was speechless. The relationship between a mother and her unborn child is intimate and real.

–          “Why are you waiting so long to try again, you aren’t getting any younger”- This one was said recently, as if I needed the reminder that I am getting older.  I will be 32 in a week and a half. I know how old I am.