My friend Eva said to me the other day, “People just want to
share their sad stories with you.”
She was referring to one of the things that happens after you lose a
child. Eva had a stillborn son,
Lincoln, last year. This came
after years of fertility treatments.
Lincoln was their miracle baby, so his death seems like an even worse
robbery than mine. They never got
to see Lincoln alive, never felt his heart beating through his chest, saw his
eyes blink and recognize their faces, or felt the warmth of his breath against
their skin. It’s true, what she
said. People do want to share
their sad stories with you. I
understand it. It’s their way of
trying to relate. A sort of
attempt at saying, “I know a little of what you’re going through.” I appreciate it, and most of the time I
don’t mind. Eva doesn’t
either. She followed her comment
with a smile and said softly, “But it’s okay. I kind of like it.”
Hearing other people’s sad stories is what she meant by “it.” I’ll never forget the image of her saying
that to me. It was like an
epiphany in a way. It hadn’t
occurred to me that I had become a collector of sad stories about other tragic,
untimely losses. I had already
added to others’ collections too.
Of course my friends and family knew about Max, but I had also shared
his story with several strangers.
They have since become my friends, but at the time I was just another
mom sharing her sadness with them.
“They” are other moms who have lost babies. They’ve lost them to SIDS, stillbirth, cord incidents,
Potter’s Syndrome, Trisomy 18, and every other horrible condition, disease, or
incident you can think of that should never ever happen. I know that we are lucky to have each
other, but our relationships are also a reminder of all the horrible things
that happened to us and the heavy sadness that we all carry around.
Just
since the school year started, I’ve discovered two students whose families
experienced the same loss as we did this summer. One lost her baby sister, and one lost her niece. Both were born very premature and died
shortly after birth. I’ll never
understand how these students came into my life now of all school years. For a week or so after Max’s death, I
really felt like we were the only people who had lost a baby. I mean, I knew that we weren’t, of
course. But I felt like it. I thought for sure that other people
who had lost babies lived far, far away in exotic places. They led completely different lives
than we did. We would never meet
them. We’d never know their baby’s
names or share Max’s story with them.
I might read about them in a book or online, but I never thought they
would end up in my classroom, in my home, or as fixtures in my everyday life. It astonishes me that all of these
things happened. I thought we would
travel this road alone. How stupid
of me to think those things! These
women are some of my best friends now.
We email, text, and talk almost daily. We know exactly what to say when one of us has a bad
day. We know exactly what it’s
like to be on the verge of tears twenty-four hours a day. We know our sad stories, and just
like Eva said, we kind of like knowing them. It reminds us that we aren’t alone. There is someone else out there who is
also living a “should-be” life and missing the hell out of their baby.
Shortly
after school started, I learned about a friend of a friend whose wife gave
birth to a stillborn girl. Out of
respect for their privacy, I won’t reveal our connection, but it in itself
amazes me. Not in a good way. My friend asked if I felt like I was in
a place where I could offer support to this couple. Of course I do, and I would never ever want someone else to
go through the loss of a child without others who know what it’s like. I sent him an email, and I was
surprised to hear back from him only a few hours later. He and his wife were both adamant about
surrounding themselves with people who had experienced the same loss. I don’t know how people can make such
sound decisions in such times of chaos and incredible pain. I tried to remember what it was like in
the first few days after Max died.
I wanted to be able to say or do something to help this couple out. When I think back on it though, it’s
really a blur. I remember shaking
my head a lot, crying nonstop, and wishing I could just go to sleep and wake up
living a different life. No one
could have said anything to “make it better.” So, I did the only thing I could think of. I emailed him a list of things to keep
in mind and consider doing to create memories for a child that will never have
any herself. Most of these things
I only learned about long after Max’s death, so I don’t have them myself. I only learned them from other moms who
had been forward thinking enough to consider the future. I admire that about them. I haven’t heard back from this couple,
but I continue to think of them daily.
I hope that I will hear from them because I have quite a few people who
want to meet them and hear all about their little girl.
I
also have a friend who lost a baby on Monday. Her loss was what is called “expected,” a term which really
only tricks you into thinking that you can prepare for it. She found out late in her pregnancy
that her daughter had Potter’s Syndrome.
She told me to spare myself and not Google it. I followed her advice, and I hope that you all will
too. From what I understand,
Potter’s babies can suffer from a variety of developmental problems in utero,
but it is 100% fatal. They either
die in the womb, during childbirth, or shortly after. My friend originally wanted to spare her daughter the trauma
of childbirth, and preferred that she pass before it. As her body began preparing for childbirth though, she
changed her mind. She and her
husband wanted to meet their baby.
They wanted to hold her and look into her eyes before she was taken from
them. I was so glad to hear
that. I only have my experience to
go on, but I feel so thankful for the moments that I had with Max. I wouldn’t have it any other way. My friend was scheduled for an
induction on Monday, which we all knew would also be the day that her baby
died. I thought about my friend
and her family all week. I hoped
and prayed that they actually got to meet their precious baby. I got the most beautiful email from her
today. Their baby lived for 2
hours, far longer than what is expected for a baby born with Potter’s. She said that she has to believe that
all of the thoughts and prayers of friends, family, and strangers made that
extra time possible. Even though
her story is incredibly sad (two hours should never equal a lifetime), there is happiness, love, and hope in it
as well. You might ask,
“Where?!?!” I ask myself that too,
but when it comes down to it, they got to experience the most unique and
unforgettable parts of being a parent:
looking at what you helped
create, seeing the life that you are
completely responsible for bringing into the world, and feeling the
overwhelming and explosive love that we have for our children. My friend’s heart grew that extra
chamber that I call the “Max Chamber,” and she filled it with as much as it
would hold. I am so happy that she
and her family got to meet their baby, but I am also sad for them that they
only got a short meeting. It is so
strange to have experiences that are full of complete sadness and happiness at
the same time. It seems unnatural
and impossible. I’ll be going to a
memorial service for my friend’s daughter on Saturday. It will be the first of its kind since
Max’s, but it probably won’t be the last.
I guess that just comes with the territory now that I’m a collector of
sad stories.
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