Hi Tiffany. How are you today? It really is pretty unbelievable how your world can so completely crumble, isn't it? Until my baby died, I never knew that grief could be so overwhelming. Especially in those early days (that was really the whole first year, at least!), I also felt guilty the minute I realized that I'd had a "non-grief" moment. Eventually I realized that a person just can't "do" guilt twenty-four hours a day.
Tiffany, it's just hard to get through this - there's just no easy way about it. My baby died in October. At the time, my other daughter was four. I went trick-or-treating with her preschool class. As I walked around, I was grateful beyond belief for having her and my son, then almost two. But, still, that does not make up for the loss.
I walked around with these cute little kids in their costumes, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking how my little lost baby was never going to go trick-or-treating, never going to dress-up, and, you guessed it, I totally lost it. This preschool was on a college campus and I had to duck into some professor's office where I proceeded to just sob. I would have gone to a bathroom but (1) I didn't know where one was and (2) when that gush of tears started, it came complete with gulping, runny nose, and the need for big, old honking nose-blowing. It felt like it took forever before I could get myself under some semblance of control. When I think back on it, I seem to recall sometimes feeling like an idiot, and other times feeling practically combative - like, just let someone try and say something dumb now. Tiffany, in short, I was pretty much of a mess!
Through those awful days, and because of the many people in my small town and elsewhere who comforted and shared their own stories with me, I've come to realize that we are all pretty much of a mess as we go through this tragedy. We all do it in our own way, we find our own sources of hope and encouragement, but the "crumbling world" is just part of it. It stinks, doesn't it!
This past Friday, I went to my youngest daughter's choir concert in the school's chapel. Afterwards, I lit a candle for my baby. I thought I was okay, but my left hand started to tremble as I picked up the candle. As the pastor steadied the candle for me, he and I made eye contact and I just lost it right then and there. I started to cry and, luckily, I turned around right into the arms of my eldest daughter and husband. So we blocked the aisle, held each other for a bit, and then I pulled myself together and we cleared the aisle.
So, Tiffany, as you get through these worst of days, know that you were the one who truly knew your baby's life. It is from that knowledge, I think, that such great pain comes. There is no question at all that fathers grieve just as deeply - so do siblings, grandparents, other family members, and friends. It is just different for each one of us. How can we measure grief and grieving? I don't think we can - it just is. The only thing that worked for me was to let myself feel my sorrow and not try to busy myself in an attempt to avoid feeling. By knowing and understanding my own sorrow, that gaping hole in my heart eventually became a safe harbor for my grief and my loss.
Tiffany, I encourage you to check out this website: http://hygeia.org/ It is a terrific resource and its mission is to comfort those who have suffered pregnancy or newborn loss. Michael R. Berman, M.D. is an OBGYN in private practice and is with Yale University School of Medicine. The Hygeia Foundation provides a great deal of information and compassionate support. Dr. Berman has written volumes of poetry to and for his patients. That poetry is on the website and does help to comfort.
I also urge you to check out the the National Stillbirth Alliance (NSA) at http://www.stillnomore.org/index.htm. There are resources and information about umbilical cord accidents. The OBGYN and medical advisor to the NSA, Jason Collins, M.D. is at the forefront of stillbirth research. I know you want some answers, especially because you want to get pregnant again.
Tiffany, you take care of yourself and let other people take care of you, too.