I am honored to be a contributing letter writer for Emily Long's new book, From Mother to Mother, On the Loss of a Child. Emily's work and writing has been such a comfort to Jonathan and myself as we have navigated these past 18 months of grief. I was fortunate enough to take one of her on-line writers workshops for bereaved mothers and it became a wonderful resource and mini-community in this world of child loss. Emily is an incredible advocate for other parents of loss and I am proud to be included in this newly published book of hers. You can read my letter, a sample from Emily's important book, below: Dear Brave, Beautiful and Broken Mama,
There are no words that can fix this. I wish that there were, but I’ve learned that nothing at all can fix this. There are many words, however, that can help. I hope some of these do. First and Foremost: You are a Mother. When my husband, Jonathan, and I lost our first and only child Mathilda, who died shortly before she was born at 40 weeks and 4 days on March 4th, 2016, I needed to hear this. I needed to hear it and read it - again and again and again - before I actually started to believe it. So, let me repeat that. You are 100% a mother. It’s hard to reconcile this when your beautiful baby isn’t in your aching arms, and your motherhood looks nothing like what you planned. You will still “mother” your child. You will honor them and incorporate them into your life in whatever ways feel right to YOU. Eventually, you may speak their name freely and might even love it when others do the same. To me, there is no sweeter sound than my Mathilda’s name, especially when someone else says it. Once I realized that and embraced it, others did the same. Say what you need. That is to say, try and communicate as best you can. It's hard. I know it's hard, but the better you get at saying what you need, the better the people who love you can help instead of unintentionally hurting. Tell them what bothers or infuriates you. Tell them how you want them to talk about, or not talk about, your baby. It seems unfair that not only do you have to endure the loss of your baby, but you also have to help people know how to act around you. Trust me, most people want to do and say the right thing. While there is nothing they can say or do to fix this loss, ultimately they will follow your lead. I have found that it is important to find ways to validate your child’s existence and importance in this world. If you want to plan a gathering in their honor - do it. We wrote a service and planned a graveside gathering two months after we lost Tillie and decided to make it an open invitation. So many unexpected people came out to show their love and support and those people are forever sealed in our hearts. If you give people a chance, sometimes they can surprise you. We have a portion of Mathilda's ashes in a tiny treasure chest. We keep this in her crib and kiss it goodnight, every night. As often as we can, we take her on adventures with us. We both carry her in our hearts, and literally in our necklace urns, but this other physical representation of her, this tiny treasure chest is a way for us to bring her on hikes and bike rides and family visits. Our immediate families know this is our sweet Tillie and they love when we bring her with us. We have started taking photos of the places we go with her, just like any other parents. This works for us and is something wonderful that we can all do together to include her in our lives. The intensity of your grief is a reflection of the intensity of your love. The first time I heard this, it really helped me. I was feeling guilty for my emotions and felt like I would never feel positive again. Once I started to think about my pain as a direct reflection of my love, it helped me to not feel as badly about it. The thing is - no one can know the pain you are experiencing. Every writer in this book has experienced the traumatic loss of their child dying and yet, we are all different. We are different people and we experience and cope with these losses in different ways. So while we are all trying to help you feel less alone in this devastating grief (and you are NOT alone), this loss is yours to carry - just like my loss is mine to carry. The weight at first is unbearable, but I have gotten better at carrying it. The event of my daughter dying will never go away and I don’t believe that time heals all wounds. Some things cannot be healed. My first child will never physically be here with me and her absence continues to be ever-present in my life. I have found ways to cope that work for me and I promise that you will get better at carrying this loss. It’s not a steady climb and it isn’t linear, but you will get more used to the weight. Things will never go back to the way they used to be, but you can survive this. You are irrevocably changed. You are now a bereaved mother. What a heavy title. The only other word I have come across that gives a name to this new version of myself is Vilomah. It’s a Sanskrit word that means ‘against natural order - the grey-haired should not bury the black-haired.’ I like this word. I wish it didn’t have to exist, but I like it. It’s not a common word in our culture, but it feels important to have a title after what we’ve been through, like a widow or an orphan. It validates how different I feel from my former self. As I write this I am fifteen months out from the day my daughter was born still into this world. I am a different woman. Things in my life that used to be important to me are no longer fulfilling. It is hard to recalibrate. It is bewildering to look in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back at me. It has been a really scary time and I am still figuring it out. Everything in your world has come crashing down. Give yourself permission to only pick up the things that help. You will find new things and new people. Some will stay, but you may have to rebuild your life from the ground-up again. Give yourself permission to take your time. You have been through a major trauma. Try to be gentle and compassionate with yourself. This is no easy task but it is imperative. Traumatic loss affects you physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Now, more than ever, you need to consider yourself first. So many women are people-pleasers. This is not the time for that. You have to try to let that go and really listen to what you need. Earlier I suggested that you ‘say what you need.’ Well, first you have to know what you need and the only way to do that is to be gentle with yourself and listen. It is not natural or fair to outlive your child. Now you find yourself in a world that is over-stimulating and has the audacity to continue on. Everything should stop. No one should get to be happy or be pregnant or have a baby. These are irrational thoughts and feelings, but they might come up for you, they did for me. I had to try really hard not to beat myself up for having these feelings. I had to learn to be kind to myself and put my own needs first. Do not do things just to make other people happy. You are the one in pain. They can be uncomfortable or disappointed if it spares you further suffering after the loss of your beautiful, irreplaceable baby. Whatever you’re feeling is okay. Try not to feel guilty for your emotions. This is a hard one, I know, but I promise that the better you get at letting yourself feel what you’re feeling, the better off you’ll be. It’s so hard to surrender yourself to the grief and the deep, deep sadness and longing. The anger and blame are intense. I’m sorry that you have to go through it all but, in my experience, there is no running from it. You do have to go through it, one way or another. Try to be good to yourself in the process. I’m so, so sorry that your child died. It’s not only your loss. It’s not only your family and friends’ loss. It is the world’s loss. I like to think that our exquisite babies would have made this world a better place had they lived. I know that they have done just that by having existed at all. Your baby made a difference and will continue to do so in more ways than you can imagine. Here’s to our beautiful babies. In Hope and Solidarity, Darcie Mathilda’s Mommy Born Still on March 4th, 2016 www.lostlullabies.weebly.com https://www.facebook.com/lostlullabies/
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