Day 8: Wish List

Capture Your Grief Day 8: Wish List

I have a long list of wishes when I think of my son Nolan. Wishes that I have long given up on. But the wishes I have today in talking about my son is that it will perhaps help another grieving mother, struggling to cope with the loss of her child, help another friend figure out what to do or say to help their friend who lost a child or help people who are blessed enough to walk through this world and never know someone firsthand who has lost a child to understand the gravity and frequency of this occurrence.

I too once was uneducated. Like most I though once I was past the touch and go first trimester the rest was home free. I thought the worst I would have to worry about was labor pains and pregnancy pains. To say I was shocked to learn my son had died would be an understatement. I was shattered into a million pieces. I was angry at the world. I was angry at myself. I was just plain angry. And then I was numb. I felt as though I was a zombie walking through the motions of life but not really feeling any of it. I became a really good actor in those coming months. And then there were the days that I was terrible at it. I couldn't put on a brave face to save my life.

I remember the first time I heard someone else was pregnant. This deserving couple had every right to be happy and even though I knew about it before the "public" announcement at work, when it was made I felt something well up inside me. I ran out of the room as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself. I dialed my husband and by the time he answered I was in the stairwell bawling my eyes out. You know the ugly cry where you are heaving so much there is no way for you to sensibly talk. I remember my first baby shower after Nolan died. I spent the entire time drinking mimosas and watching the clock for a reasonable time for me to exit. In all fairness, my friend told me she completely understood if I didn't come. But I knew I would have to go to one eventually. I never had one when I became pregnant with Ronan. There was really no need. As with most second children of the same sex, we already had everything we needed. Unlike most second children, Ronan wouldn't be using worn hand-me-downs. 

My wish list is that people stop pretending stillborns aren't still prevalent in our world today. The fact is, in just my tiny beach community of Wilmington there is a little group of angel mommies that grows by the month. Yes month. In the year or so we have had a Facebook group we have managed to accumulate over 40 members and these are all women that have been added personally by someone in the secret group. It's a space where we can vent our frustration that nobody on this planet can possibly understand, announce our new rainbow babies with an appreciation no other parent could possibly understand and just be there to support each other on days like our Angels' birthdays. 

I remember hearing a few years ago that a coworkers' wife died during childbirth and I thought to myself, "wow, I didn't even know that was a thing anymore." In reality, nearly 800 women die a year during childbirth in the U.S. I imagine a lot of my friends, coworkers and even family said the same thing when they heard my son was stillborn. In reality, 1 in every 160 pregnancies in the U.S. end in stillbirth totaling 26,000 stillbirths a year and most remain unexplained.