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.

Is Winter Over Yet?

Blah. Blah blah blah.

Yippee.

Ok, here's a dilemma for you. What would you do if, say, you found out that your 8-year-old daughter, who is strong-willed, stubborn, and difficult - you'll be the first to admit it - has this friend, who is a bit older, in a different grade. But your daughter Capital-A Adores her. And you've just found out that this friend has said, not within your child's hearing, that your daughter is "fat" and "annoying." After spending hours at your house, sleeping over, being fed, coming to birthday parties, etc. And now your child knows it too.

I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should do anything. But this bugs me. And I also realize it says more about me and my insecurities than perhaps my daughter. I don't have many friends here, even after living here for 11 years, and I lack even one person I feel I can consistently turn to as a confidant. Except my husband, but, we all need a girlfriend to talk to sometimes, yes? I never had many friends growing up; I was very shy, which others translated as stuck up. I have a hard time making friends and I know I'm not easy to get to know. And yes, my daughter is a little chubby, but so was I when I was her age; she's also very tall, as was I. And yes, I'm lonely here. I'm afraid that my daughter will feel the same way I did growing, the same way I feel sometimes now - like she doesn't fit in, that she's different somehow.

And it makes me want to cry.

What would you do?

What Do You Do For Mother's Day?

The first Mother's Day after Ben died, I remember someone telling me, well, at least you are a mom. And yes, I was. I've never had to deal with Mother's Day with one dead child and no living children. I'm pretty sure that would be akin to one of Dante's levels of hell. And that day was hard; my husband had been away on business (out of the country, no less) for two weeks, and was traveling home on Mother's Day. My daughter had been particularly sweet that weekend - she seemed to understand that I needed a little extra love that year. I held it together by mostly not thinking about it until people started to call me and see how I was doing.

The second Mother's Day after Ben died, I realized that this was it - no matter how many years went by, two, 10, 33, 50 - no one was going to phone me up to ask how I was doing anymore. But I was going to remember that one of us was missing, one of us was not here to give me hugs and kisses, handmade cards, or breakfast in bed. That's it - you get the first year, and then you're done. Or, that is, the rest of the world is done. I'll still miss him in 20 years, and think of him on Mother's Day. Will anyone else, besides my husband?

And for those of you who are reading this, who are missing your babies, whether you have living children or not - I am so, so sorry for your pain. You are mothers, not the way you should be, not the way you want to be - and I honor you, and your children, this Sunday, and always.

One thing I will do this weekend to honor Ben is go to this website and light a candle. For every virtual candle lit in honor of a baby who never made it home, the website Memory-of.com will donate $1 to First Candle, the support organization for parents who have lost children. First Candle's mission is to make sure every baby makes it to their first birthday healthily and happily. You can light a candle any time in the month of May. Memory-of.com is also donating $1 to Susan G. Komen for the Cure for every candle lit here in memory of a mother, grandmother or godmother who has died. I will also light a candle for Elizabeth, who I am missing terribly right now.

Hugs to all of you missing your babies.

Oh, hey there. Hi. I'm still here.

I've been having that "fallen off the face of the earth" feeling lately, though I couldn't tell you why. Blog? What blog? Oh yes, the one about the dead baby. How uplifting, how perfectly springlike and warm and sunshine and flowers. Um, yeah. I've been thinking a lot about all of the friends from home dying, 3 women, 3 weeks in a row, all from cancer. One of them I didn't even know, but I grew up playing with her husband. She was 37, and now there are three little boys without a mom. And I feel for them so much, those boys, and my friend I haven't seen since I was 18 or 19 or 20, who used to play tag in my parent's backyard, who is a widower now, and has to grieve for his wife while trying to be okay enough to raise his sons on his own. And my heart aches for him, and for his wife who never intended to leave them, but who had no choice in the matter.

There's another young mother I've been thinking of, in Australia, whose blog I came upon through this one. Jen is a 39-year-old mother of two who is dying. She is fighting with all her might but preparing as well for the end. She has cancer of the bowel and has been told she has anywhere from 7 months to 3 years. If you want to be inspired, this woman will do it. She is courageous and beautiful and accepting of what she's been given, though not yet ready to give up. Some of her internet friends are holding an auction to raise money to help Jen pay for some of the medical care she needs that insurance will not cover and to set up a trust fund for her son. Jen's blog can be found here; the link to the auction on ebay, which will run until May 1st, can be found here. Visit one, or both, and send Jen good thoughts for whatever time she has left in this journey.