My Answers (My Beloved Support Group)

It was so nice to have some questions from my last post and because I tend to be quite wordy... (imagine that) I think that I may take a few days to ponder and respond in my 'Moments of Pause' type way. DeniFay from Making Our Troxclair Family asked me the first question about the support group that I have written about on here.

When I delivered my boys I was bombarded with information. It came at me so fast that I hardly had time to digest it. My head was spinning from becoming a mother for the first time and having to care for a little one, to becoming a mother for the first time and realizing that my baby would not be coming home with me. We were making decisions quite quickly- what to do with Andrew's body- the naming of our boys- and we didn't have a lot of time to think things though. When someone mentioned a 'support group', I shrugged it off thinking that a support group would be for people without any children and I had a beautiful one in my arms...

When I came home and reality sank in and the fog that surrounded me began to clear, I hit a wall. I read everything I could get my hands on about stillbirth and (specifically) cord accidents. I gave my doctor a 40 page report with highlighted portions. (as if she needed that) and I sought support from CLIMB (center for loss in multiple birth) and ELIMBO which was a support group on-line for people with a loss of a multiple. And that is when I remembered the mention of that support group and I dug through all of the mementos, papers and brochures that I was sent home with and found a card with a picture of a bear holding a broken heart. It said HUGS which stood for Healing and Understanding Grief Support and it said that they met the third Thursday of every month.

I could hardly wait for the meeting to come and when it did come I realized that this community of people, this 'secret society' was much bigger than I had ever imagined. Early on I saw how people could get stuck in their grief and I felt that though I was in so much pain it never got so dark for me that I couldn't get out of it. It was at that time I made a promise. A promise to my son, and to myself that each month I would go. I would go and speak his name and remember him. I would go and share the blessings of his life by making someone else's journey a little less lonely. I began attending meetings- all of them- and gave my contact information out to the hospital to share with others. While my story is unique in having had lost a twin, at the end of the day, I lost my child. I lost my individual baby. And I still miss him terribly.

My hospital has done a tremendous job with families who have lost a child. My experience (as horrific as it was) was so much more peaceful because of the nurses and my doctor. The staff at my hospital has been trained and I have spoken at two conferences for the medical community to give them a glimpse into the heart of a grieving mother.

As intimidating as a 'support group' can sound, HUGS is a very comforting environment (at least I've found it to be that) and there is always a nurse that is there as well. We take turns sharing who brought us to the meeting and talk about any hurdles we're facing and celebrate those we've conquered. It's a unique group and I have met some of my dearest and life-long friends at those meetings.

I learned recently that other hospitals in our state have heard about HUGS and are starting their support groups based off of HUGS. Perhaps one of the best things about our hospital is that when they have a good thing going, they don't keep it a secret- they share it.

If there is not a support group in your area (and there may be...) I would contact your hospital and ask if there is any interest in starting one. The people reading this blog know that perinatal loss happens far too often and I know that new people come through those doors far too often- and that there are those that can't muster the courage to come to a meeting- but they're hurting just the same. The support of families who have gone through this and shared their stories and experience is what has helped me get where I am. I believe that every life you come in contact with changes you. God has changed me through Andrew's life- and I will strive to change others (to let them know they'll be alright) through his life as well.

To read more about my thoughts on support groups, you can click on the label below, "The Secret Society of Angel Moms" (and I apologize for saying moms- as I know there are many -amazing- dads in the 'secret society' too...) and as for the picture above, that is my little Joey at about 7 months at the memory garden for babies at our hospital. That picture now hangs in the room where you will find me-
The third Thursday of every month.
At 7pm.
In Megan's room.
Changing others- as they change me.

Thanks for reading and being part of my on-line HUGS group!

Our Story

It is amazing sometimes.
The friends that I have made simply because he's not here.
Friends that stretch cities, states, and even countries.
All because of his story- our story.


Holly, an amazing mom I 'met' from Caring for Carleigh, emailed me these pictures. Such a simple gesture, but one that took time, took thought, took effort.

I've been thinking about it. How if it weren't for Andrew's story, for Baby E's story, for Carleigh's story and countless others- I would have no idea. No idea of the community that is out there- waiting in the shadows- one that no one knows about- has ever heard of- until you need them- until you become one of them.

So many stories-
Like the leaves in these piles- all with names- details- stories.

I've spoken of the 'secret society' on here, of the many (mostly) women that I've met. Stories that I've heard. And I've wept for them. Thinking about how horrible it must have been to have lost their child- their children.

And though I've lost a child.
I've lost children.
Their story isn't mine.
I can only imagine.

I've had people tell me that they can't imagine. It must have been so hard to go 39 weeks and had to say goodbye. To have carried so long...

And I would tell them- I can't imagine. It must have been so hard to lose a baby you could fit in the palm of your hand. A perfectly formed, but tiny babe. To not have had more time...
I can't imagine.

Because it isn't my story.

We would unpack our stories at meetings. Those hard details- the pain- the tears-
We'd unpack them all.

But in the end if we could choose- we'd take our story back. Each of us. We've talked about it- because in the end it is our story- our children- who have led us to this point- made us who we are.

I choose him.
A 6 pound 11 oz boy.
I choose him.
His eyes closed- I never did get to see them.
I choose him.
And those little fingers that seemed to wrap around mine.
I choose him.
And the little spark- full of hopes and dreams- that just left one day- for reasons unknown.
I choose them.

It's my story.
One of millions-
Like a single leaf in the forest
A grain of sand on the beach
A lone star in a brilliant night's sky

And yet I'd find him again
and again
and choose him.
Choose them.

Our story.

The Secret Garden Meeting

The Secret Garden Meeting is a wonderful blog for women who have lost children. It asks them about their experiences and then allows them to post and read about one another's experience. This is my experience- September.

What has helped you through out this new life the most. Is it your family? your faith? Support groups? A ritual? Music? Physical activity? A new interest? It could be anything. Tell us about how whatever it is has helped you.

Peace.

If you told me that I would find it- or have it six years ago- or even perhaps five- I would have told you that you were crazy. My new life? Well- it wasn't what I had signed up for- what I wanted and somehow I found myself treading water- trying to find my way- survive with a broken heart- and for a time I was stuck.

Literally I was stuck- stuck in a place I didn't want to be anymore. I have an amazing family- an amazing network of friends- of support- and a faith that is so very strong- and still I was stuck. My writing helped me- but in the end I kept coming back to that place... The place where I felt so hollow and wanting to come out of it... but stuck.

What helped me most was the Secret Society- A group of amazing people that I met with each month at the hospital where I delivered- The hospital. The very place where my new life began. The name of this 'Secret Society' was/ is HUGS and you will still find me there- every third Thursday of the month, in Meagan's room. HUGS helped me in my new life. Helped me become 'unstuck' on the journey of my life.

Each month I met new people- mostly women- and it amazed me how different we were. We were so different in so many ways and yet we had this common bond- an unspoken understanding of each other that even our closest friends couldn't quite understand- not completely anyway. For we all knew what it was like to lose a child, to lose dreams, and to be 'stuck'. And whether I met them once- or talk to them still- they touched me- and I took something from their stories- from knowing them- from listening.

Each month these women comforted me, carried me and listened to me. They did not judge- they listened- and they shared- and in their sharing I was no longer alone in my new life. I had others. And I liked them. I longed to see them each month- to know them- because though our time together in Meagan's room was limited I felt that they knew me more than most. They understood me and my new life.

And now I can tell you that this group of women- amazing women- whom I have met through the blessings of lives that were never lived- have helped me heal. The friendship. The friendship is what helped me most. A true gift from God. And now it is no longer all about our angels. It is about us. Where we are. Who we are. Acceptance. Peace.

And now you may see us having meetings at coffee houses, restaurants or even our living rooms- because born out of grief has been an amazing bond of friendship. One I would guess will last a lifetime.

A support system like no other. Our secret society.

http://momentsofpause.blogspot.com/2009/01/secret-society.html

The Secret Society

I remember them saying something about a support group meeting.
I remember telling them, yes, but I have a baby. I don't think it would be for me...

Two months later I found myself sitting in a room full of strangers. I glanced around and I couldn't believe the number of people in the room. They were mostly women but there were some men. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Eyes avoided one another and the room was silent.

A nurse started off the meeting and encouraged others to share their story, explain what (or rather who) brought them to this meeting. I remember as the parents shared their stories that I had a burning desire to talk. What if they didn't get to me? What if I couldn't share his story?

I heard horror story after horror story of people who had broken hearts from children who took a piece of them when they left. Lost children, some in early pregnancy, and some who lived for months. I felt a common bond with these people. I felt one of them. I felt I belonged.

As I began to look around the room I noticed that these people all looked so different. They came in all ages, shapes and sizes. Some had a house full of children, some had none. Some were married, some were not. Some got pregnant very easily, others had struggled for years. And yet we were all here. All together. All suffering from the same unspoken sorrow.

I remember thinking that I was suddenly a member of a secret society. Something that no one ever talked about. This was a society I never knew existed until I became a member. This was a group I didn't want to grow in numbers, and yet I was so glad not to be alone. I lost my baby and suddenly people came out of the woodwork to share their stories with me and somehow, before I had an angel, I was naive that any of them had suffered a broken heart. These people now understood me. They got 'it'.

Going places I began to wonder... "Is she a member?" "Is she?" Everywhere I looked I saw people I didn't know and I became curious to know their stories. To know if we were connected in some unspoken way. I remember seeing a woman who was angered by another driver and I thought, "Wow- I wonder if she's lost someone recently." Suddenly my patience began to change. I had more of it. Everyone became a victim. Everyone could have been me. Everyone could be hurting and trying so desperately to get through just one more day, one more hour, one more minute.

I wished that members of the secret society wore some kind of symbol. I wished that I could identify them and talk to them for I knew with them I would not worry about what they might think of me. I knew they wouldn't judge me for still being sad for losing my son, for still grieving, for still crying.

I wish I had a symbol that others would see and know- This is me! This is who I am! I am a mom to an angel- a proud mom. I may cry, but I'm glad you asked. Ask me. I want to talk about him! I want to remember. Ask me!