Dear Pregnant Mom,
I get it. Pregnancy sucks. You feel icky, tired, sick, swollen, you can't sleep, your back aches, and on and on. You wish the whole ordeal were over. But really? Are you that miserable that you have to make every Facebook status update one in which you complain?
I understand that Facebook is an outlet for emotions and maybe you feel that you get some support by constantly complaining, but just for a moment, stop and think. How does this look to others? If I stop by your page and I see multiple status updates on how miserable you are, that is going to tell me that you don't want to be pregnant, that you don't want this baby.
You may want your baby, and probably want this baby very badly (for the rest of the post I am going to assume that you do), but your words convey something very different. Look at these "status updates" and see how you think about the person:
"Ugh! This is horrible...I can't sleep. #ihatebeingpregnant"
"Oh yay. Another loooong morning at the dr. Can't wait for this whole thing to be over."
"Sick and tired. #pregnancy #nofun #iwishitwereover"
"My back hurts, my feet hurts, I'm tired and I don't feel like cooking much less eating. I'm so over this."
"Only a few more weeks of misery. #pregnancyishorrible"
"Stretch marks are soooo ugly. I hate them."
All of these updates could have been written by someone who is excited about their child, but you would never know it.
As a parent who has had several losses, reading status like these sadden me. Children are a gift and when I see updates like the above in my feed, it makes me wonder if you are really treasuring what you have been given. I feel that maybe you don't deserve this, that I should have the same opportunity because at least I would be happy about my baby. I'm not being mean spirited, I'm being honest. When I see stuff like this, it makes me angry and sad.
So maybe before you hit that "post" button, think about what message you are conveying. Are you glad you are pregnant? Let us know. If others can't have their own little ones to love and cherish, they at least want to know that some other mommy is happy and will love and cherish her baby.
If you don't stop complaining, I will hide you. Sometimes the pain is just too much.
Sincerely,
A Mom
PS: The status updates are fake but I have seen too many complaining updates to know that they can be all too real. If you have posted one of the above to your Facebook page, you may need to re-think your actions.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Downton Abbey and Suffering
It's no secret. I love "Downton Abbey." I own all the seasons and can beat any "Downton Abbey" trivia game. I love how the story follows one family and their household through so many of life's ups and downs. The writers have made the characters real and very human, unlike many other shows and movies that make the characters out to be perfect.
Last night I was watching the last episode of the first season. In this episode, Lord and Lady Grantham discover that they are expecting child #4, then lose the baby, a boy, in a tragic accident.
In the episode, the couple were expected by society to just move on with their lives and not grieve because in the eyes of others, since no one saw the baby it did not really matter.
If got me thinking how far society has come in recognizing grief, and how far we still have to go. In 1914, women were supposed to carry on with their social lives, be subjected to talk of how they really should get over it, and how they should move on. I don't think that people meant to be insensitive, but they were, and it hurt.
Now, in 2013, almost a hundred years later, people have become more accepting of grief over a loss, but we still have a long way to go. Especially in the situation of miscarriage or early still birth, people still expect us to move on, get over it, and carry on with our social lives.
So please, if you know someone who has suffered loss, be kind and patient. Loss is devastating and it can take some people a very long time to recover.
Last night I was watching the last episode of the first season. In this episode, Lord and Lady Grantham discover that they are expecting child #4, then lose the baby, a boy, in a tragic accident.
In the episode, the couple were expected by society to just move on with their lives and not grieve because in the eyes of others, since no one saw the baby it did not really matter.
If got me thinking how far society has come in recognizing grief, and how far we still have to go. In 1914, women were supposed to carry on with their social lives, be subjected to talk of how they really should get over it, and how they should move on. I don't think that people meant to be insensitive, but they were, and it hurt.
Now, in 2013, almost a hundred years later, people have become more accepting of grief over a loss, but we still have a long way to go. Especially in the situation of miscarriage or early still birth, people still expect us to move on, get over it, and carry on with our social lives.
So please, if you know someone who has suffered loss, be kind and patient. Loss is devastating and it can take some people a very long time to recover.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Today's Thoughts on Yesterday
Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was warmer (no flip flops yet), and Henry and John were by my side.
There are days when I am consumed with thoughts of what I had and lost, but yesterday was not one of those days.
Instead, I was consumed with thoughts of what I had. I was content with my little family here on earth. At the end of the day I realized that I had not thought about Avery. I did not forget him, because he is always in my heart, but I never once said, "Man, I sure wish Avery were here."
At first, this made me sad, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was good.
John needs a wife who is not so consumed with the past that she cannot live in the future.
Henry needs a mommy who is fully there for him, tuned to his needs and able to give the love he needs to grow.
Avery needs me to be a wife and mommy, so I can help us all get safely to Heaven to see him again. He needs me to pour all the love and attention that would have gone to him onto Henry.
I need me, too. It's not healthy for me to sit around all day and pine for what I don't have. There are going to be days when I do just that, and it's ok. But to live my life in misery and pain will never help me move on, will never help me accept my new reality.
Yesterday was a good day. Today is a good day. I'm hoping tomorrow will be a good day, too.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Acceptance
Sometimes I procrastinate.
Like this past month.
I knew I had to write, but I just never did.
Other things called me.
Things that were not more important, but, in my eyes, more fun.
I should have written.
Writing is good for me, it helps me think, it helps me to accept.
It helps me accept the fact that Henry is crawling.
He's crawling, and there is no one to chase him.
He bumps his head and I kiss him.
But it's the only kiss he gets.
It helps me accept the new reality.
The reality that I can go for a bike ride on a beautiful spring day and enjoy being with my husband and baby.
The reality that I can show a tiny fuzzy mouse to Henry and watch his wonder and laugh with him.
The reality that today is a day to treasure, no matter what happens tomorrow.
Live fully.
You will not regret it.
Live fully.
You will not regret it.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sometimes I Remember
Sometimes I remember things.
Things that happened only a short time ago
But seem so far away.
Like the time we went to LA to see the sights.
You were in your stroller, just chilling
Being cool, the way you always were.
We went to Grauman's Chinese Theatre
And it was very hot and crowded.
But you were having fun.
You looked out at all the people and smiled.
You smiled at strangers,
At people you did not know.
You loved them
And they loved you back.
Do you remember the man from Japan?
The one with the big camera?
Daddy was pushing you and the man came up
And asked to take your picture
Because you were so cute.
You smiled your beautiful smile
And your eyes sparkled.
The camera flashed
And that moment was frozen in time.
Now you are in heaven and we can't see your smile
Here on earth.
But somewhere in Japan
People have seen your adorable little face
And it makes them happy.
You have blessed people who don't even know you,
Even as you bless me, my son.
Things that happened only a short time ago
But seem so far away.
Like the time we went to LA to see the sights.
You were in your stroller, just chilling
Being cool, the way you always were.
We went to Grauman's Chinese Theatre
And it was very hot and crowded.
But you were having fun.
You looked out at all the people and smiled.
You smiled at strangers,
At people you did not know.
You loved them
And they loved you back.
Do you remember the man from Japan?
The one with the big camera?
Daddy was pushing you and the man came up
And asked to take your picture
Because you were so cute.
You smiled your beautiful smile
And your eyes sparkled.
The camera flashed
And that moment was frozen in time.
Now you are in heaven and we can't see your smile
Here on earth.
But somewhere in Japan
People have seen your adorable little face
And it makes them happy.
You have blessed people who don't even know you,
Even as you bless me, my son.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
10 Things Not to Say to a Grieving Parent
Last week I posted a list of 10 things a person could do to help in a time of great loss. This week I am going to highlight a few things people should not say. I do understand that in a time of loss people feel like they are at a loss for words and want to make the person going through the grief feel better, but sometimes words can do more harm than good. A good rule of thumb to remember is that when you don't know what to say, it is probably best to remain silent. No words are better than potentially hurtful words.
1. "They are better off where they are."
True, but it does not ease the pain of knowing you no longer have your child in your arms.
2. "God wanted another flower in his garden."
My child is not some tulip sitting in a plot of dirt up in heaven. This phrase which is meant to comfort has no meaning whatsoever.
3. "It will be ok."
Yes, someday it will be ok, but not now. Don't try to comfort fresh grief with this phrase. It is like putting a Band-Aid® on an amputation.
4. "You're young, you can have more kids."
Not necessarily. Parents who just lost a child don't want imaginary future children, they want their baby, their precious baby who is no longer here. Also, it is not kind to give them false hope.
5. "Maybe you should have built up the immune system."
This is probably one of the most hurtful, for it insinuates that losing the child was somehow the parents fault, that if they had given them this and avoided that the child would still be here.
6. "I know how you feel."
This one is tricky. If you have lost a child, then yes, you can sympathize. If, however, you have not suffered any losses then you can not possibly understand how a grieving parent feels. Losing a child is a different kind of grief than losing a parent, sibling, friend, or relative. If you have gone through one of those losses, then you certainly can sympathize and help them through the stages of grief. Just be sensitive to the fact that there is a difference. The grief of losing another loved one is not less than losing a child, just different. Also, be prepared for the parent to lash out and say you can't possibly understand because you have not gone through what they are going through. Don't get angry or your feelings hurt, just understand that raw grief says things that a healed person might not say. See item number three on last weeks list, "don't be shocked."
7. "It's time to move on."
Never, and I repeat, never dictate to a parent when they should move on. Let them move at their own pace.
8. "Well, I guess God just wanted him/her more."
In our heart of hearts, we know that God loves our children even more than we do, but we love our children very much and when we are forced to give them up it is hard to see that.
9. "It's too bad you will never see them '_______'"
Yes, we know it's too bad. We don't need you to tell us how bad it is. Someday, when we are ready, we want to talk about the things our child could have or would have done, but not now. Not at the funeral.
10. "You have other children."
If the parents do have other children, those children will become even more dear to them, but they will never, I repeat, never take away the pain of someone missing, someone who won't be in any more family photos, who won't sit at the dinner table. Never try to replace the child with one of the siblings. They won't take his or her place, and we don't want them too.
1. "They are better off where they are."
True, but it does not ease the pain of knowing you no longer have your child in your arms.
2. "God wanted another flower in his garden."
My child is not some tulip sitting in a plot of dirt up in heaven. This phrase which is meant to comfort has no meaning whatsoever.
3. "It will be ok."
Yes, someday it will be ok, but not now. Don't try to comfort fresh grief with this phrase. It is like putting a Band-Aid® on an amputation.
4. "You're young, you can have more kids."
Not necessarily. Parents who just lost a child don't want imaginary future children, they want their baby, their precious baby who is no longer here. Also, it is not kind to give them false hope.
5. "Maybe you should have built up the immune system."
This is probably one of the most hurtful, for it insinuates that losing the child was somehow the parents fault, that if they had given them this and avoided that the child would still be here.
6. "I know how you feel."
This one is tricky. If you have lost a child, then yes, you can sympathize. If, however, you have not suffered any losses then you can not possibly understand how a grieving parent feels. Losing a child is a different kind of grief than losing a parent, sibling, friend, or relative. If you have gone through one of those losses, then you certainly can sympathize and help them through the stages of grief. Just be sensitive to the fact that there is a difference. The grief of losing another loved one is not less than losing a child, just different. Also, be prepared for the parent to lash out and say you can't possibly understand because you have not gone through what they are going through. Don't get angry or your feelings hurt, just understand that raw grief says things that a healed person might not say. See item number three on last weeks list, "don't be shocked."
7. "It's time to move on."
Never, and I repeat, never dictate to a parent when they should move on. Let them move at their own pace.
8. "Well, I guess God just wanted him/her more."
In our heart of hearts, we know that God loves our children even more than we do, but we love our children very much and when we are forced to give them up it is hard to see that.
9. "It's too bad you will never see them '_______'"
Yes, we know it's too bad. We don't need you to tell us how bad it is. Someday, when we are ready, we want to talk about the things our child could have or would have done, but not now. Not at the funeral.
10. "You have other children."
If the parents do have other children, those children will become even more dear to them, but they will never, I repeat, never take away the pain of someone missing, someone who won't be in any more family photos, who won't sit at the dinner table. Never try to replace the child with one of the siblings. They won't take his or her place, and we don't want them too.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Firsts
There are many "firsts" in life. You know, the "first time" you do/say/experience something. Some are good and some are not.
My life is filled with many firsts.
My first time driving (thanks, Dad!).
My first job.
My first crush.
My first love.
Now, I share many firsts with my first love. Together, we make it through the hard times as well as the good times.
Our first baby girl, now in heaven.
Our first Christmas.
Our first son.
Our first experience with empty arms and an empty crib.
Our first time holding Henry.
Henry's first bath.
Henry's first Christmas.
And now, for the first time, Henry is sick. It's the first time I have cared for a sick baby since Avery was so ill. It's scary. But I know how to get through it.
One step at a time.
I can only think about the next step. Two steps ahead is too much.
I only have the strength to go one step at a time.
But God is good. He gives strength as needed.
He never fails.
He won't let me down.
I know, because I have taken that first step.
My life is filled with many firsts.
My first time driving (thanks, Dad!).
My first job.
My first crush.
My first love.
Now, I share many firsts with my first love. Together, we make it through the hard times as well as the good times.
Our first baby girl, now in heaven.
Our first Christmas.
Our first son.
Our first experience with empty arms and an empty crib.
Our first time holding Henry.
Henry's first bath.
Henry's first Christmas.
And now, for the first time, Henry is sick. It's the first time I have cared for a sick baby since Avery was so ill. It's scary. But I know how to get through it.
One step at a time.
I can only think about the next step. Two steps ahead is too much.
I only have the strength to go one step at a time.
But God is good. He gives strength as needed.
He never fails.
He won't let me down.
I know, because I have taken that first step.
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