So excited to share my story over at Still Standing Magazine today in order to brake the silence of what it is REALLY like sometimes after the death of your child.
Monster Mommy ~ Part 2 is dedicated to all of us who feel like we change for the worse after a loss.
One in every four pregnancies end in loss. And this loss, occurring before 20 weeks gestation (in the USA) is termed miscarriage. I have lost two children. One to miscarriage and one to stillbirth. Each was a very different experience from one another. After my stillbirth, people grieved with me. They acknowledged my daughter as real ~ as a baby that died. With my miscarriage, I got almost no support and many implied that it was just ‘not meant to be’. My baby, this person who should have been a part of my family, just didn’t rate in most people’s eyes.
I searched for validation that I be allowed to mourn and grieve this baby ~ my early pregnancy loss. I honestly didn’t find much more than horrifying statistics that made my loss feel even less significant, because it happens to so many women. I was shocked at this kind of ‘move on and get over it’ mentality that I found almost everywhere.
So, I chose to create a journal that would not only acknowledge my early loss as a baby, but celebrate her as well. Alice will now live on in not only my heart, but in the concrete and beautiful pages that I so lovingly made for her.
And because I know that I am not alone, I am creating these journals for anyone who would like them. You can find them for purchase in my shop and see more of a peek of the inside pages below.
This journal “Gone Too Soon” was created to honor that life that didn’t get to stay. My daughter’s life was brief, but no less precious than any other living baby’s story. So, I decided to create a journal that was special enough for her.
Ordering Details can be found in the SHOP: Gone Too Soon ~ A journal especially designed for Mothers who have lost a baby in early pregnancy”
This is a guided journal with space for writing, scrap-booking and storage. Here is a peek at just some of the 113 pages that make up this unique and wonderful journal.
I know I am really excited about something when I am willing to loose sleep over it. I just hope that the specialness of this creation translates well.
I have been hinting at a very special project for weeks now. And honestly, I was just not sure that I could pull it off in time for today ~ Remembrance Day ~ but I did!
And now I am ready to finally share this big news. I am creating very special series of journals using my artwork and background in social work. The first one is titled “Forever a Mother ~ a journal designed for Mothers who have lost a baby to stillbirth” Here is a sneak peek inside. These are available for order today along with CUSTOMIZING name option! And miracle of all miracles, I have managed to create a newsletter subscription and want to invite you to join here. This way, you will be the first to know when a new type of journal or art is announced. And I pinky swear that I will only send out new-letters with real news and happenings in them.
I was so excited, I started to fill it out and put Amelia’s information and treasures in it. But I promise, each journal will be fresh for the mama who receives one.
It takes practice to smile again after the death of your child.
It takes practice to listen to your children talk about their grief when all you want to do is cry.
It takes practice to find faith again when faith was stolen from you the moment she died.
It takes practice to quiet the distracting noise of anxiety that is the white noise in your mind.
It takes practice to hope again because you know that death is real and takes the innocent without a second thought.
It takes practice to trust after loss, because anger and grief take up all the spaces in your heart and need to be tamed again.
It takes practice to look at life as a gift and know that your time is not moving away from the moments you last held her, but is quickly moving towards eternity where you will be together again.
It is hard, but I have come to a place where I can smile again. I hope the same for you.
Something big is coming on May 5, 2012! Something really incredible!
Still Standing Magazine is a wonderful project begun by Fran (Small Bird Studios) and a huge collaborative effort with many of the most inspiring women I know ~ moms who understand loss because they live it. We have each our unique story, and Still Standing is going to be a wonderful place of hope, healing, and learning where we all share how we embrace life after loss. And I get to be a part of it {happy dance}!
I believe Still Standing will take its place within the world and provide a sense of hope and community to its readers. There are so many people just looking for a way through the hardest days. I remember the beginning all too well. The days of darkness while having the responsibility of being mommy still. Just surviving each day was a struggle. I was constantly searching for people online who understood what I was feeling because the world I lived in felt wrong. Family and friends had unrealistic expectation of our grief journey. I often felt as if people wanted desperately for me to ‘get over’ it already and be the old me again.
Overcoming and getting over are worlds apart in my mind. The death of a child is not something you ‘get over’, but grief is something that you can overcome. I strive to overcome grief in order to survive and live this life I have. I strive to overcome grief because I deserve to smile and be happy. Honestly, it has taken two years to just get to the threshold of this place where I can embrace joy again. It is a scar that marks me and still has the power to level me in a random moment. I am not required to get over Amelia. And that is an important distinction that most people in our society don’t understand. Still Standing will help not only illustrate the distinction, but do amazing things to education the periphery community that hasn’t experienced a loss, but is involved in the life of a family who has.
I can’t tell you how giddy I was when Fran called me and asked me to be a contributing writer. It is a dream come true.
I will be writing about parenting before, during and after loss, children and grief, faith, and healing through creativity. The truth is that I stumble and make mistakes along the way, but I never allow myself to forget for one minute that not only am I grieving a daughter, but my children grieve the loss of a sister.
So, come and join the newsletter and facebook page and read more about the other incredible mama’s that are part of Still Standing.
Join Still Standing and follow this amazing group! Facebook page and newsletter sign up
One thing that I have realized about turning your passion into a business . . . there is a whole lot of business that can burn out your passion. I am still a homeschooling mom with four kids under 10. I am trying to find a balance and still feel like I am doing what I have always intended ~ making a difference with art. Being a babyloss mom has a tendency to bring me right back to that raw place. A place where I remember what was most important in the beginning of the grief journey. Tangibility. Remembering. Honor. Love. Hope.
Immediately after Amelia died, I was given some beautiful pieces of jewelry that I wore every day. Each had special meaning and the people who sent them to me later confided that they just didn’t know what to say or do, so they bought something that any woman would love . . . a piece of jewelry. I told them they were exactly right! It meant the world to me and still does to this day.
This is why I have turned some of my artwork into wearable pieces. The first group is on a traditional 24 inch sterling silver chain with the pendant to be worn close to your heart. The Forever in Your Heart collection is perfect for a mother’s day, a baby shower gift, or to commemorate a special life.
The most recent addition is a contemporary choker, because I want to give a budget friendly alternative. I searched high and low because I didn’t want just any cord, but one that I would wear. Each art pendant hangs from a 2mm black satin cord at 16 inches and it closes with a sterling silver lobster clasp. The Close To You collection is ideal for a special midwife or doula appreciation gift.
Coming soon . . . a new piece.
Remember, a part of every sale goes to fund the Donate Art Project. Gifting grieving families with commemorative art and resources.
An echo rolls around in the caverns of my mind. When the sound softly dies down I begin to realize that the quiet silence is sometimes the answer.
I wrote a post a few days ago about trying to find the meaning in things once again. Some of the biggest questions in my life boil down to one word ~ WHY? And for most of my life that “WHY?” has plagued me. It is that noisy echo in my brain: Why do I keep making the same mistakes? Why did Amelia die? Why do so many bad things happen at once? Why do some of the best things in my life seem so random? Why do I deserve mercy? WHY!?
I have given this a lot of thought, prayed for answers, cried oceans of tears and I have come to a place where I have peace. For me, God’s love and grace settles in when I am frantically searching for the answer. It doesn’t stop the pain of not knowing, but it does give me pause to know that I will one day be able to ask Him.
This is a gift I never thought I would get. And for this I am grateful because I remember the time in my life when peace was all I wished for. And it was always there, just waiting for me like the hand of a parent reaching out to steady a newly walking toddler . . . I just didn’t reach out for it.
During the darkest times of my life, I pulled away from it. Shrinking back from the love and the peace because I needed the anger. The grief and rage of loosing a child to death was alive and electric for me. The anger was real and gave me reason to push back, to challenge, to be bold in the hurt, to effect change in her name. And like a small child, I could not see the picture as a whole, but only the piece that I was experiencing. God hasn’t taken away the grief which still surges up to rear it’s ugly head. . . but I have peace to face it. I deal with it in the moment and then move to a place of acceptance. I accept that I won’t know these answers now.
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