My speech for the boys

I spoke today at a memorial service at the hospital where I delivered both of the boys. They apparently have the service once a year. They asked me to speak because I had been so vocal about the care I had received - it was very good, but I was offering to sit with the nurses and tell them about my likes and dislikes. Instead, they asked me to speak at this memorial service. I was hesitant at first, but decided it was a wonderful way to remember the boys. So, I spoke today...in a chapel...in a hospital...to about 10 families. This is my speech:

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I have been on the wrong side of the probabilities twice. To say this isn’t fair is a complete understatement. It’s not fair that anyone should have to go through losing a baby ever. Unfortunately my family has been through it twice now.

We lost our first child on July 30th 2007. I was 21w 2d into the pregnancy when my water broke in the early morning. After talking to the doctor, we rushed to the hospital. We were admitted to Labor & Delivery, but there was nothing they could do. I started having contractions, and Cooper was born a few hours later - just before noon. He was 11” long and weighed one full pound. He had really long legs and huge feet – he would have been our basketball player.

After loosing Cooper, all I could focus on was finding a reason for what happened. I searched every inch of the internet to find a cause for 2nd trimester loss. This was my outlet for my grief. Through my search, I was shocked to find that there are so many families who go through this, and I had never even heard of it. And through my search, I was terrified to find all the things that could go wrong during pregnancy. At this point, I realized just how incredible being pregnant truly is and how blessed I was to have been able to know my son while I carried him. Once I realized that I’d never get a definite reason for losing Cooper, I moved my attention to getting pregnant again. I didn’t want to replace my son, but I wanted a child so desperately.

In October 2007, we found out we were pregnant again. We were cautiously optimistic. With the second pregnancy I was closely monitored and even had a cerclage placed when I was 12 weeks pregnant - just in case Cooper’s birth was due to incompetent cervix. Everything went smooth until I hit 20 weeks. That Friday, at my weekly ultrasound, we confirmed that I did have incompetent cervix. Now we knew that this was the reason for losing Cooper. That day I was sent home on strict bedrest.
Unfortunately, the cerclage and bedrest did not work for me. I went into labor and gave birth to Brayden on March 7th after only 2 weeks of bedrest. We had just passed his brother’s milestone of 21w 2d and had begun to get hopeful. Brayden was shorter than his brother, but much broader. He was just 10” long and weighed 1lb2oz. With his really wide shoulders, he was our football player.

After each loss, we had an outpouring of love and prayers from friends and family. We received cards, emails, dinners, and flowers for weeks straight. Both times we have been amazed by how everyone rallies around us. This usually lasts for the first month, and then people start to forget. But we, as parents, don’t forget…and those next few months when the world just seems to “keep going” are so hard. My husband and I were lucky enough to have family and a few friends that continued to check in with us. They would (and do) let me talk about the boys for as long as I wanted, and they would ask questions too. For some reason, they weren’t afraid – and they would cry with me. This is the most meaningful gift they ever could have given me, and I am so grateful. I am currently reading a book that puts this gift into words –
“Those who shed their tears with me show me we are not alone. It often feels like we are carrying this enormous load of sorrow, and when others shed their tears with me, it is as if they are taking a bucketful of sadness and carrying it for me.”

Once people know our story, they have the greatest intentions to help whether we know them or not. This extends from our next door neighbor, to aunts and uncles, to our dental hygienist, coworkers, even the bagger at the grocery store... They try to say things to make you feel better like:
“It was for the best.”
“It’s God’s will.”
“At least you lost the baby now, and not later.”
“At least he didn’t suffer.”
“You can have more children.”
I know people are trying to help by saying these things. They are trying to show us that it could be worse and it will get better. But, I wish that these comparisons…that these “helpful” sayings…would just go away. I don’t want them to ignore our grief or our pain, but I believe that the best thing that anyone can say to grieving parent is “I’m so very sorry…I just don’t know what to say.” Because, honestly, there is nothing that anyone can say to make us feel any better. But that is not to say that silence is the correct response either. I had some close family that chose to completely ignore the situation. I’m not sure if this was because they were afraid of upsetting me or just uncomfortable with the situation. They continue to ignore that I have given birth to two sons now. They even avoid discussion when I bring up the boys names. To me, this is appalling. They act as if my children never existed, which says to me that they weren’t important enough to them. This hurts more than I can say.

Over the past 9 months, I have learned a lot through my grief. I learned how deeply I can love someone without ever hearing them speak, cry, or even breathe. I learned that I have some friends and family that stick by my side in the most awful circumstances. I learned that people can say some horrible things without meaning to – just because they don’t understand the situation and are afraid. I learned that what did not kill me DID make me stronger – even though at times I wish I weren’t THAT strong. I learned that sometimes it’s what people don’t say that hurts the most. I learned that I’m going to make a good mom, and my husband is going to make an amazing dad. And I learned that my marriage is stronger than I ever could have imagined…and we are making it through this together.

I know that there are people out there just like me…hurting and hoping. My hope in speaking today is to let you know that you are not alone. As sad as it is to know that others have experienced this kind of loss, there is something comforting in it as well. I have been fortunate enough to connect with other women who have had pregnancy losses. Some of those women are here today, and I thank them for supporting me through all of this. Without the support of these women, I wouldn’t have had the courage to share my story today. I welcome anyone that wants to talk, and I encourage you, if you haven’t yet, to find a group that you can share your grief with. This has been my saving grace through the worst year of my life.