Capture Your Grief - Day 6: Rituals

When you were alive in my tummy, your big sister sang made up lullabies every night and sang them to you before she went to sleep, about all the things she was going to teach you when you were born. She would draw pictures on my belly for you and stick little pieces of food in my bellybutton for you to eat. She insisted that I swallow toys so that you would have something to play with. Now that you're gone, she still talks about you every night and asks me questions about you before we go to sleep. Your first angelversary is coming up on 10/25 and she wants to put presents in balloons and send them up to you in Heaven. She is worried that you won't be able to have a good birthday party there without your family. This will be the first of many of your birthdays that we will celebrate - you are remembered at every holiday with candles and drawings your big sister continues to make you. I make sure to say your name out loud and look at your pictures every day. I have learned now to trust my instincts more and my body less. 

Capture Your Grief 2013: Day 5 - Memory

It breaks my heart that every memory I have of you fits into one small box. I remember so much about you, Nicolai. When you were born, I remember staring at all your little features from the minute you came into the world until the next day when they took you away. I wanted to make sure that every detail was burned into my mind so that I would never forget how you looked. I saw your sweet face on the back of my eyelids every time I closed my eyes. You were so warm and pink when you arrived, I remember thinking that at any moment you would open your eyes and prove them all wrong. I remember trying desperately to keep you warm throughout the night, hoping for the miracle that never came. I remember those last soul wrenching hours, when despite our best efforts, we could not keep you warm and pink anymore. I remember the way you started changing before my very eyes and how I knew that it was finally time to let you go. I remember you every second of every day.

Capture Your Grief 2013 - Day 4: Legacy

Day 4: Legacy

You were to be our firstborn son. Concieved in love one year after we were married, you were desperately wanted. From that moment on, you only knew unconditional love. You were never alone, never knew sadness, never knew heartache or fear. Your big sister would sing you lullabies every night before bed, softly rubbing my bellybutton until one of you fell asleep first. Your daddy loved to feel your strong kicks against his cheek when he would talk to you in the evenings. You loved our warm morning baths, and I would lay back and dream about the day that I would be holding you and playing with you in the water after you were born. I remember the day you died, my first nagging feeling that something was wrong was after our bath, because I hadn't felt your usual tumbling and rolling around.

When I found out that you were gone, my whole world crashed down around me. My body wanted to hold on to you, and it was nearly 24 hours after my labor was induced that you and I became two instead of one. I can remember the delivery room, so still and silent, the little plastic incubator/crib meant to hold newborns lay silent and dark in the corner. I knew from that moment that I was now a grieving mother, and I would be grieving for you every day until my last breath. It seemed like such an insurmountable task, lying there in labor, knowing that I would carry this all-consuming weight of grief over the loss of you forever; and I had yet to even see your tiny face.

My sweet child, your legacy will live on through your family. Your short life, your birth, and you death changed me forever. I will never be who I was before. Your big sister still talks about you everyday - she makes you presents and draws you pictures and leaves them at night for you to fly down from Heaven and look at. If your little brothers make it, they each will have your name as their middle name. I look for signs of you everywhere, and I write your name in beautiful places that I would have loved to have taken you. Your big sister always called you "Pi," and Pi you will remain in her heart forever. I love you, I miss you, and the world will never be the same without you.

Capture Your Grief 2013 - Day 3: Myths

1.                   Myth #1:  It will never happen to me.

Stillbirth happens more often than people realize.  Pregnancy loss affects 1 in 4 women.  2^nd trimester losses are only 2% less likely than 1^st trimester losses – the risk doesn’t go away after 12 weeks.  Pregnancy loss after 20 weeks happens in 1 out of 150-200 pregnancies.  60% of the time, there is no reason found – cord accidents only account for 2-4% of fetal deaths.   Stillbirth doesn’t discriminate based on age – stillbirth still happens even if you are young, healthy, and have a low risk pregnancy.  Just because you have had successful pregnancies and children in the past doesn’t mean that you are immune. 

2.                    Myth #2:  You shouldn’t share your pictures of your baby because they make people                        uncomfortable.

These are the only pictures I will ever have of my child, and thus they are sacred to me.  I will never get to have milestone pictures of him growing up and doing all the things we had dreamed for him.  My baby is no less cherished than your baby who lived, and I refuse to act as such by not honoring his pictures.  I’m sorry if the most devastating event of my life makes you slightly uncomfortable, but this is my reality every single day.  The only way that awareness regarding stillbirth can be spread is to inform others about it through our stories, pictures, and experiences.  Had it not been such a taboo subject, and had I known how common it happens, perhaps I would have been more aware of the symptoms to watch out for and more diligent in doing kick counts, which could have potentially saved my son.  If one pregnant woman (or mother, grandmother, daughter, or spouse of a pregnant woman) sees our story and it causes them to Google stillbirth prevention so they are aware of the signs and risks and do something about it; it is worth it.   

3.                   Myth #3:  You’re pregnant with twins now – that is God’s way of making up for the                           baby you lost plus giving you another one.

My son will never be replaced.  There is no “making up” for my loss – you cannot replace one of your children with another.  Would you ever say this to a person who lost an older child?  And please don’t tell me that my son’s spirit has come back into a baby that I am currently carrying – my son is gone – implying that he died and is now back in my womb is just another way of trying to tell me that everything is back to normal. 

4.                   Myth #4:  Now that you’re pregnant, you can stop grieving and get on with your life.

I can see it in people’s faces every time they look at me and see that I am pregnant.  Relief washes over them, and I can hear them saying in their head “Finally, now we can start acting normal around her again – she will go back to being the way she used to be.”  I will never stop grieving over the loss of my son – NEVER.  Every little kick that I feel now in my womb is a reminder of my son and the only memories I have of him alive.  Pregnancy after loss doesn’t magically fix everything, like the rest of the world would like to believe.

5.                   Myth #5:  Lightning doesn’t strike twice

Statistically speaking, just the fact that you have had one late term pregnancy loss increases your odds of having another in a subsequent pregnancy by 2x-10x.  Clinical evidence shows this data applies even if there was no obvious cause of death, or even if it was a cord accident.  I will never feel safe in another pregnancy until I have the baby alive in my arms.

Capture Your Grief 2013 - Day 2: Identity

Our son, Nicolai Daniel Liedel, passed away in the early morning hours of October 24, 2012 before I woke up. I found out at 5:17pm, after not feeling him move all day, that he was gone. 24 hours later, on October 25, 2012 he was born, weighing 4lbs 14oz. I was 33 weeks and 4 days when he died. Despite a complete autopsy and blood work, no cause was found for his passing. It was a blissfully uneventful pregnancy, and we had no indication of the gut wrenching loss we were about to endure. He will always be my firstborn son. It would not matter if I went on to have 1000 more children, I would always be missing one. 

Nicolai

Capture Your Grief 2013 - Day 1: Sunrise

"With each sunrise, we start anew."