Welcome to Holland

After my angel baby Naomi died, I felt it necessary to go to grief counseling. My counselor Gina Hendricks read me this story that in so many ways is just like losing a baby.

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Sistine Chapel, Gondolas. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting. After several months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland!” “Holland?” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy. I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It’s just a different place. So, you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around. You begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. And Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” And the pain of that experience will never, ever, ever, go away. The loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Written by Emily Perl Kingsley

The Bereaved Mother

‎"Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles, but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS, but she IS NOT, all at once. She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity"

I found this thought on the face book wall of a good friend of mine that lost her baby as a still born, Teresa Tolman.

What I Wish Everyone Knew

I wish everyone knew that this hurt never goes away. We still need support, and I still need to hear my daughters' names. Now, even more than before, I NEED to have her life validated.

I wish everyone knew ....that even though my baby's death was the most painful experience of my life, I am grateful for the pain, and I would still choose to have her even knowing that it would end the same....and I would give anything to cuddle her in my arms again, if only for a brief moment.

I wish everyone knew... that my heart leaps with joy every time someone asks me about my baby.

I wish everyone knew that a baby's age or size at birth or death does not determine how much of a person she was or how much she will be loved or missed.

I wish everyone knew that losing a tiny baby is just as difficult and painful as losing any other child.

I wish everyone knew how much I need to talk about my baby, and how happy it makes me when someone asks about her.

I wish everyone knew the struggle that I go through everyday to answer the simplest questions, like: How many children do you have?

I wish everyone knew it is ok to talk about my loss.

I wish everyone knew that I think of my baby all the time.

I wish everyone knew that I have completely changed because of my experiences.

I wish everyone knew how much I love and miss my baby.
I wish everyone knew how much I need to talk about her and remember her.

I wish everyone knew what it felt like to hold her, still, perfect, breathtaking and have to leave her.

I wish everyone knew what it felt like to long for just 1 more second with their baby. Maybe then they could truly cherish all the billions of seconds they get with theirs.

I wish everyone knew that us mommies who lose our babies carry them with us everywhere we go...for the rest of our lives...and to say we are changed...is putting it rather lightly.

I wish everyone knew and appreciated what an absolute miracle each and every child is, from conception to birth, viable and enviable.

I wish everyone knew that even though I can smile and go to work and "function" like everyone else, I'm not like everyone else.

I wish everyone knew that even if you don't know what to say to me, saying nothing at all is more painful than you can imagine. Ignoring me and never speaking to me again because it makes you uncomfortable to be around me is worse than being uncomfortable or saying the wrong thing.

I found this here:http://idahoangelbabies.blogspot.com/

The Missed Life

It's been 4 1/2 years since the time we had to bury our sweet Angel baby Naomi Ruth Tennant. It's funny how I still miss her so much. I know I will see her again and in the next life I will have the chance to raise her, but sometimes I morn for the simple fact that I will not be raising her here with her other siblings. How much I wish I could see her grow along side Kirsten, Christopher and Angela. I image how close she would have been to Kirsten. They would have been 19 month apart in age. What best friends they would have been. I know my limited understanding makes it hard for me to understand how this loss will be made up to me. For the most part I am fine without knowing. I am happy with the simple process of watching my other 3 kids grow. That doesn't take away the the longing for how much I wish I could have seen Naomi grow along side them. I'm sure God will make it right again. I will go on missing her until then.

A New Day

I have as of yet posted anything from my experience losing my baby to SIDS. On November 7th she would have been 4 years old. Hard for me to think about. I sometimes still find myself wishing she would have lived. But then I realize there are experiences I wouldn't have had or people I wouldn't know if she had lived. I do know that losing Naomi has given me a deeper compassion for others who are going through the same kind of loss.

Naomi was 5 1/2 weeks old the morning she died of SIDS. I feed her the night of December 15th 2006 around 11:00. I put her to bed thinking she would wake up later in four hours and I would feed her again then. She did wake up at 3:00, but I wanted her to sleep longer during the night, so I comforted her and so did Ken so she went back to sleep. I expected her to wake up again at 4:00 like she had done before. I woke up at 6:00 feeling relieved that Naomi had slept longer then expected. Ken and I talked for about 45 minutes before I decided to go into her room to feed her. I peeled back the covers to find her white as a ghost. I did CPR on her and so did Ken. We called 911 and they arrived within 15 minutes. I was in total shock to say the least. I could not believe this was happening to us. I rode in the ambulance hugging my knees and praying my baby Naomi would somehow live. We got to the ER and they worked to bring her back to life but after 30 minutes them came and told us she was gone there was nothing more they could do. I was in shock. How could our baby die like this? It was too much to take in. I was numb at first, not sure of what to believe and trying to figure out how this could happen to us. I seriously don't know how I got through those first few weeks. I felt every emotion imaginable, pain, anger, fear, hatred, and guilt. I feared I had cause my baby's death. I learned these are all normal reaction to grief.

These emotions continued less in severity over the next year and a half. Nine months after losing our daughter Naomi I became pregnant again. We were over joyed and scared to death as we knew we would have to go through all the fear of losing this baby. We were ready though. So 18 months after losing Naomi we welcomed Kirsten Ann Tennant into our home. She brought a rainbow after the storm to our grieving family. While I will always miss Naomi and nothing and no one could take her place, it helped so much to have Kirsten. Another baby to love again. She was and to me still is my sunshine kid. I love her for teaching me that there is life after grieving and that I could love another baby again. I look forward to having that time with Naomi in the next life when I will get to raise her. Knowing what I know now makes it bitter sweet, more sweet then bitter now. What I want to say to others like me others who have lost a baby is that there is always hope always a new day. Look forward to that new day and it will come.

We are just two moms who lost our little children to S.I.D.S. I lost a little boy named Johnathan. He was 8 weeks and 6 days old. I put him down for a nap. Two hours later, I went to check on him. I missed him by about ten minutes. C.P.R. did not work. My husband and I were devastated. We had had a miscarriage only the year before. Jo-no was our first live birth. I felt everything from anger to guilt to "did I do it?", to "why did you do this to me?", to "how could I have done this?", to just being numb, to the most blinding pain I have ever felt. Then we became pregnant again on oops. We hardly noticed, as our little guy had only been gone for about 6 weeks. Then we lost that baby too. We were surprised to realize we were sad, because we had not even thought about the baby since we found out I was pregnant. So we decided to do it on purpose, and got pregnant with our little Maximus in May. (Jo-no died in Jan). The first ten months were the worst for me. Then it started to smooth out a bit. Thank goodness. The searing pain started to fade. Missing him did not go away at all, even though we had a baby coming. We new it was not a replacement, but maybe the baby could help us "fill our empty arms" But it did not help. Untill he was born. Then I just felt this huge amount of piece. I knew my Jo-no was there to see. He only stayed a moment, but it was a gift that gave me so much piece and relief, as I felt that he might feel bad that we were having another baby. Max almost died a day after he was born. He had sepsis which brought on other problems. I think that happened so that my husband and I could really appreciate him, and not be angry that he might be trying to take Jo-no's place. The first ten months were the worst for me. Then it started to smooth out a bit. Thank goodness. The searing pain started to fade. Our little Max has been the biggest band-aid we could have asked for. I think about my Jo-no everyday, but it doesn't hurt so bad anymore. I can think of him with a smile now. It has been only two years. I thought I would be dying for the rest of my life. But I am OK. I am healing and I don't have to feel guilty for it. This is what I'm supposed to do. It's OK.