Day of the Dead

It's the last day of my 31 days of posting for stillbirth awareness. I am both relieved and torn: some days I feel as if I dwell in this land of broken hearts far too much, while on others I simply acknowledge that this is my life. Or part of it, anyway.

Today is also All Saint's Day, tomorrow is the Day of the Dead. I don't know much about the Day of the Dead, but it seems a fitting time to end my month of blogging. I follow no rituals for this day, or tomorrow, other than tonight's trick-or-treating, handing out candy to little goblins, princesses, and skeletons. But I remember the ones I miss, who are no longer here, who have changed me.

I don't have an altar for Ben, though sometimes I wish I did. Other days I think no, it would be too much for me.

Nor do I have a place to go, to pay homage to him, to sit by his grave and offer him food and drink, candles and light. What is left of him is in my bedroom, in a wooden box sealed shut.

We have it all wrong here in America: bury the dead or scatter their ashes and do our best to forget. How do you forget the child you carried inside you, who kicked you and hiccuped and kept you awake at night, then slipped from your body silently, never to take a breath?

Yes, I want an altar, a gravestone, an offering. A way to honor one of the loves of my life.

Another Mother's Day

This post isn't going to be so much about me - this is my 6th Mother's Day without Ben, but I always had Charlotte, so I never had to experience a Mother's Day having given birth, but without a child. Oh, I still miss him, of course, and think of him every day, and especially on Mother's Day, but I have learned to be grateful for the two beautiful babies I have, and I treasure every Mother's Day with them.

I have reason to believe some of my lurkers are new here because of a recent loss - and I'm so sorry. And I know you are facing this day, wondering what you are going to do, how will you survive it?

I hope, for your sake, your friends and family rally around you with hugs and flowers, meals and support. Yes, you ARE a mother, even without your baby here. So, how will you get through this coming Sunday?

If you need to hole up in bed, or in your home, and not come out, that's ok. If that's what you really want to do, then do it. If you want some kind of ritual that will honor your child, there are all sorts you can do. Some people plant a tree, or a rose bush, or some other special flower, they can tend to, year after year, and watch grow. Regular readers of my blog will know that my husband and I make a donation in our son's honor every year on his birthday, to the hospital where he was born (we had exceptional care from a compassionate staff) and to the charity Save the Children, which supplies food and medicine for children in need. I know of one family who had a special place at the local zoo that meant something to them in relation to their son, and they dedicated a bench in his honor there.

You may wish to purchase a special piece of jewelry to wear, from someplace like Shannon Schoon's site. Alternatively, go online to an organization like Share, or First Candle, to make a donation or for more suggestions on how to honor your baby.

Regular readers, please offer your suggestions in the comments for newly bereaved parents.

If you're reading this because you're a friend or family member of someone who's lost a baby, and you're wondering how to help, it's pretty easy. Call them or send them a note before Mother's Day (and Father's Day), just to say, "I know this is a hard day for you, and I wanted you to know I'm thinking of you. And that I'm sorry." Believe me, it will mean the world to them. Ask if they want to talk about their baby, or show pictures or share memories. What most parents who've lost children want more than anything is for people to acknowledge the child they lost. If you want to do more, perhaps you could help them with one of the rituals I mentioned above. At the very least, please, please, acknowledge what they've lost.

For all the parents out there who've lost a child, I wish you peace.