As the cool air blows in, I bid adieu to the summer, the season that I said hello and farewell, all in the same night, to my twin boys. I feel closest to my boys when the weather is warm, when I can sit in their garden and be amongst the white butterflies and blue hydrangeas, but I honor them every single day of the year, especially in October.
Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month, observed in October, aims to remember all of the babies gone too soon, recognize the grief parents endure, and bring some comfort to aching hearts and awareness and resources to the community.
I know firsthand the pain of losing a child. I know it twofold. I have experienced the horror of feeling a child take their last breath, knowing there is nothing you can do to save them, saying goodbye to the life you imagined, and joining a club you never wanted to be a part of. This club of loss parents, grieving together, supporting one another, remembering and celebrating the fact that your child was here and does matter, is sometimes all I have to cling to.
You see, when you lose a child, it is beyond isolating. The world around you continues to move, and yet you are stuck, motionless, unable to understand how to go on living without a piece of your heart.
There are the select few in your life who will stop their lives to grieve with you and hold your hand, but most will feel lost, trying to figure out what to say, what to do.
As a mother of angels, all I can ask is that my children be remembered and mentioned.
Maybe not every day, but often enough that I know they left a mark on your life. Speaking their names will not remind me that they died; I am reminded of that every single day. It will remind me that they lived, even if only for a few short hours.
When parents lose a child, it is the parents who feel the most pain. It can be difficult for a friend or family member to fathom the gut-wrenching hurt, but there are ways to offer love and support. In my darkest days, it was the friend who came to my house with dinner, knowing I probably wouldn’t eat it, and just sat with me. She didn’t talk about current events or what happened to her at work; she just sat. Sometimes she rubbed my head; she offered to put my laundry in, but just feeling less alone was all I needed.
Another dear friend donated two trees for us to plant in memory of our boys. A gesture that meant everything, knowing she wanted to honor our children with us. Planting those trees was incredibly peaceful and healing. Most of my family did not ask what I needed. They wanted me back to who I was before my children died. As hard as I tried to explain my grief, they could not accept that I would never be that person again. This friend received it. I distanced myself from the ones who could not, and unfortunately, loss does that.
So what can you do for someone who has experienced every parent’s worst nightmare? It’s simple, just be there. Take their lead. Please don’t assume you know what they need. Ask.
Is it a dinner for their children or spouse, so they do not have to think about cooking? Can you watch their children for a few hours so they can rest, take care of themselves, or even cry? Does it mean understanding why they may not want to see you or your new baby? Can you plant a tree or some flowers in their baby’s memory? It may be helping to arrange a memorial service or funeral for their baby when it is too painful for them to do so. Maybe donating to a cause close to their heart, such as the March of Dimes or stillbirth research, would be special. Sometimes, a gesture as small as lighting a candle, writing their baby’s name in the sand, and sending them a picture is all it takes to show your support.
In fact, on October 15th at 7:00 p.m., there is a wave of light for all of the babies in heaven. As lost parents, we ask that you light a candle to remember our angels with us.
I participate in this every year, and it fills my soul when I receive pictures of candles glowing in memory of my children. I don’t receive many, but there are the select few who never forget.
I will never forget the boys who made me a mother. They are rooted deep in my soul, and although my grief is still so big, my love is even bigger over four years later. When I look up at the stars, I know they are the brightest ones, shining their light upon me. When the sun rises each morning and paints the sky, I know they are greeting the day with me. They are in the blooming flowers, the crisp and peaceful white snow, the breeze that blows the fallen leaves. They are with me through every season of life, blessing me in ways I never thought possible.
