Within the dark world of pregnancy and infant loss, Emily Long is a beacon. Her work lets grieving parents like us know that we are not alone as we wrestle with ourselves and our lives without the children we yearn to hold. Darcie and I are so grateful for Emily's work. Without her, I don't think that we would be where we are today. In a time when resources for fathers of loss are sadly sparse, I am honored to have contributed to Emily's new book, From Father to Father: Letters From Loss Dad to Loss Dad. I wanted to share this today, the day that Mathilda would have been 10 months old, especially while we are fundraising to provide From Father to Father and Angela Miller's You Are the Mother of All Mothers to parents devastated by stillbirth at The Elliot Hospital in Manchester, New Hampshire, in the year following Mathilda's first birthday. Both of these books are resources that every bereaved parent should have access to in order to feel connected to their parenthood, to feel support, and to survive. You can read my letter, a sample from Emily's important book, below: Oh, You Brave, Brave Father, From the bottom of my heart, I want you to know that you are not alone. While there are so few people in the world who can truly understand your devastation, I do. We do, and we are here for you. In the days, weeks, months, and years to come, you may hear some say, “Don’t worry. You’ll have another baby.” I know they don’t understand. They can’t. For them, it is impossible to comprehend the crippling scope of all that you’ve lost. You lost the comfort of coming home to your cooing baby and her glowing mother. You lost the weight of her in your arms. You lost the joy of watching his first steps and the thrill of his first words. You lost lullabies and bedtime stories. You lost play dates and playgrounds. You lost temper tantrums, tender moments, and sweet little toes. You lost first days of school and summer vacations. You lost tee ball games and field trips and parent-teacher conferences. You lost first dates, birthdays, holidays, and graduations. You lost their incredible talent, their fiery spirit, their brilliant mind, their sensitive heart. You lost your hopes and dreams for who your precious baby could become. You lost your role as teacher, caretaker, provider, and protector. You lost a part of yourself. You lost your future. In March of 2016, we lost our sweet daughter, Mathilda, shortly before her birth at 40 weeks and 4 days. For me, every day remains a labyrinth of worry and wonder and where to go next. These are endless empty days, all full of quiet and stillness where there should be a cacophony and constant motion. I am perpetually engulfed by the burning awareness of how different my life should be. To think that I could have anything of value to offer you feels arrogant and heavy. However, there are some things I’ve been told that I think you should know. You are a father. More than that, you are the strongest and most courageous kind of father. You love and nurture a baby you can never hold. You did nothing wrong. This is not your fault. There is nothing you could have done to save your child. Your grief is normal. If you have a hat your baby wore and you want to kiss it goodnight, do it. If you want to stare in the sky and tell them about your day, go for it. Read them stories. Preserve their nursery. Plant flowers and build a birdhouse for them. Honor them in any way that fills your soul. Nobody can tell you how to parent your dead child. Nobody can judge your grief. Be patient with yourself and your baby’s mother. There is no timetable for grief. There is no getting over so devastating a loss. All you can do is learn to live with it. Like any weight, it may get lighter the longer you lift it, but it will always be yours to carry. My darling Mathilda was arrestingly beautiful, just like her mother. She had her mom’s hands, but she had my skin. She had my hair, but she had her mom’s nose. She was our sweet Peanut, our first daughter and our only child. The days and months since we lost her have been the darkest of my life. The only light that I’ve found has been in the belief that she is the energy that drives all of the wonder in the world. She is the sun that warms my skin and she’s the snow in my hair. She’s the waves that crash, the breeze that cools, and the rains that bring life. She’s the leaves that fall and she’s the sand between my toes. She is every bird song, every butterfly, and every rainbow. She fills my world with all of the beauty she can muster, and I find her in that. I find her everywhere I can. You are an intrepid father, loyal and true. In time, I hope that you can find some of what you lost. In hope and solidarity, Jonathan, Mathilda’s Daddy Born Still on March 4th , 2016
1 Comment
Heather Dinsmore
1/5/2017 04:41:16 am
Beautifully written from a place of love and grief that helps others come to a place of understanding for the love and loss of your beautiful daughter Mathilda.
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