A Blog about stillbirth and how to move on after the loss of a baby
Nolan Eason
At 1:03AM on Friday, March 30, 2012 my first child was born - a son. We named him Nolan Eason. 21" long, 5lb 3oz. He was beautiful and perfect in every way, except that he was stillborn. As we searched for answers to his untimely death, we also searched for comfort. This blog was created as a way of working through my sorrow by trying to find something beautiful in the world each day. Hopefully, along the way it will help others to heal as well.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Surviving.
I won't say today was a great day, although there were some great moments. Today was a bad day for Marshall and it got progressively worse as the day went on. I think people expect that we will progressively get better and better as the days pass, but that's not the case. One day you are better and the next day you take 2 steps back. I've had some really bad days. Days when I call Marshall from work balling my eyes out. It's only natural that Marshall has those days too. I think the biggest problem with Marshall is not having a guy to talk to about his loss. It's true that Marshall and I both lost our son, but our loss and the way it affects us is different. We had different experiences with Nolan. Marshall's experiences with Nolan were much less physical than mine were. Sure he felt him kick every now and then, but mostly Marshall had a mental and emotional connection with Nolan. I hate that most men that experience a loss of a child aren't willing to talk about it, but I'm glad Marshall is not like that. Marshall is a talker and the way he deals with things is to talk it out.
Today he just got fed up with people telling him everything is going to be okay. He's right when he says nobody has the right to tell him that unless they too have lost a child and have survived it. There's not many people out there that have that right. We are a small group of people that can say we lost our child and we survived it. In fact, I am not a part of that group yet. I lost a child, but I haven't survived it yet. I don't feel right. I don't feel like everything is going to be okay. I don't feel like my life will ever be normal again. I don't know if I will ever go a week without crying again. These are all things that I don't know and until I do I can't say I've survived the loss of my son. There are only a few women who I listen to when they tell me things regarding my life right now. One is my friend Tifni and the other is my cousin Sandra. Tifni is much more vocal to me than Sandra, but both have lost their child, went on to have another child and have managed to survive the loss. Tifni's situation is nearly identical to mine in that she lost her son to a stillbirth and then had another baby - a girl. While I don't know what I'm having yet, she knows the stress I feel being pregnant again after experiencing a stillbirth. When she tells me that I will survive this thing, I believe her. She survived. Her marriage survived. And she smiles in all her pictures. She calls her daughter her miracle baby and I understand the feeling. If I'm blessed with a healthy baby at the end of this pregnancy, that baby will be my miracle baby.
Amidst the agony of the day, there was a brief moment of fun and happiness. We managed to score some lower level tickets to the Carolina Panther game so we went and took our nephew Robi. Marshall is such a die hard Panther fan that it was great to see him just light up in the stadium. He immediately said how happy this made him just to be there watching them play. Even though it was a pre season game and the main guys didn't even play for a whole quarter, it was still fun to be there. Marshall's boss and friend Steve was there too so he came and sat with us for awhile. Steve managed to score a box seat ticket for $30! We were not so lucky, but our seats were really great so I can't complain. Afterall, it was the least I could do after Marshall and Robi have worked so hard on the house all week.
Perhaps the best part of the evening though was the impromptu concert on the street we stumbled upon. When we walked up to them there were only about 10 people standing around listening to them but we weren't there 5 minutes and when I looked around there were probably 100 or more people standing listening to them and dancing. The band was amazing! I finally learned that they were called Brass Connection and they were playing later that night at some club. The band was all African American guys consisting of 5 trombones, 1 tuba, 1 french horn and a drummer. The youngest guy looked to be all of maybe 16. I don't know how these guys haven't hit it huge because they truly were incredible! I felt a bit like I was in New Orleans listening to them throw down. And boy did they know how to work a crowd! I don't usually give street musicians money because usually I don't find them worth it but these guys were so good and so entertaining I just had to. That music definitely left the evening on a high note. Music can be so therapeutic.
I won't say today was a great day, although there were some great moments. Today was a bad day for Marshall and it got progressively worse as the day went on. I think people expect that we will progressively get better and better as the days pass, but that's not the case. One day you are better and the next day you take 2 steps back. I've had some really bad days. Days when I call Marshall from work balling my eyes out. It's only natural that Marshall has those days too. I think the biggest problem with Marshall is not having a guy to talk to about his loss. It's true that Marshall and I both lost our son, but our loss and the way it affects us is different. We had different experiences with Nolan. Marshall's experiences with Nolan were much less physical than mine were. Sure he felt him kick every now and then, but mostly Marshall had a mental and emotional connection with Nolan. I hate that most men that experience a loss of a child aren't willing to talk about it, but I'm glad Marshall is not like that. Marshall is a talker and the way he deals with things is to talk it out.
Today he just got fed up with people telling him everything is going to be okay. He's right when he says nobody has the right to tell him that unless they too have lost a child and have survived it. There's not many people out there that have that right. We are a small group of people that can say we lost our child and we survived it. In fact, I am not a part of that group yet. I lost a child, but I haven't survived it yet. I don't feel right. I don't feel like everything is going to be okay. I don't feel like my life will ever be normal again. I don't know if I will ever go a week without crying again. These are all things that I don't know and until I do I can't say I've survived the loss of my son. There are only a few women who I listen to when they tell me things regarding my life right now. One is my friend Tifni and the other is my cousin Sandra. Tifni is much more vocal to me than Sandra, but both have lost their child, went on to have another child and have managed to survive the loss. Tifni's situation is nearly identical to mine in that she lost her son to a stillbirth and then had another baby - a girl. While I don't know what I'm having yet, she knows the stress I feel being pregnant again after experiencing a stillbirth. When she tells me that I will survive this thing, I believe her. She survived. Her marriage survived. And she smiles in all her pictures. She calls her daughter her miracle baby and I understand the feeling. If I'm blessed with a healthy baby at the end of this pregnancy, that baby will be my miracle baby.
Perhaps the best part of the evening though was the impromptu concert on the street we stumbled upon. When we walked up to them there were only about 10 people standing around listening to them but we weren't there 5 minutes and when I looked around there were probably 100 or more people standing listening to them and dancing. The band was amazing! I finally learned that they were called Brass Connection and they were playing later that night at some club. The band was all African American guys consisting of 5 trombones, 1 tuba, 1 french horn and a drummer. The youngest guy looked to be all of maybe 16. I don't know how these guys haven't hit it huge because they truly were incredible! I felt a bit like I was in New Orleans listening to them throw down. And boy did they know how to work a crowd! I don't usually give street musicians money because usually I don't find them worth it but these guys were so good and so entertaining I just had to. That music definitely left the evening on a high note. Music can be so therapeutic.
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