I miss Mady today...

Today, I overslept...maybe it was simply a matter of turning off my cell phone alarm, or the fact that Landon woke us up in the middle of the night, the emotional exhaustion of this journey...but, either way waking up at 7:45 a.m. doesn't help when you are supposed to be at work at 8 a.m.

I met a friend from support group today at lunch (which I almost forgot). It was helpful to talk about things and what had been going on lately, but it made me think of Madelyne more than I already was.

Today I should be 33 weeks pregnant, and happily thinking about the changes in our life, and Landon becoming a big brother. Instead, we try to "carry on" with normal life while missing a piece of our family. I think our support group friends will understand that there will always be faces missing in our family photos. Do you understand that feeling? If not, be thankful...but be understanding.

This photo makes me feel happy (that he will know he is a big brother & has a sister) and sad (that she can't be in his arms, able to annoy him, take too long in the bathroom, etc.) We visited Madelyne at the cemetary on Sunday and Kenny snapped this photo.

Landon visiting baby Mady's gravesite

We went on to have a fun afternoon at Niven's Apple Farm & the weekend before we took Landon to see Sesame Street Live in Atlanta and Landon had a great time. I am so happy we had that time together to reconnect as a family.

 



Mommy and Landon

If you read this post and think it's random...this is just our life. One moment is normal...the next is grief...this is our little journey.

One of the things I miss about our Mady was her perfect little hands. She looked like she had a perfect french manicure, and her fingers looked so much like Kenny's/Landon's hands. I hope to do something special on her due date to celebrate her & will share that with friends soon. I'm thinking- Manicures for Mady...asking friends to treat themselves to a manicure & post a photo online in celebration of being "a girl". One thing I am already missing so much is not being able to share those  memories with Mady. I wish so badly that I could paint her little baby toes and take her for a manicure when she is old enough to enjoy it.

Will you join me in getting a manicure on November 12th?

My thoughts exactly...

The Heartbreak of Infant Loss

By Laura Schubert

Did you know that October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month? I'll bet not. Despite the infant mortality crisis that's been at the forefront of Milwaukee's public health news for months, the only people who have more than a cursory comprehension of what it means to lose a baby are those who've lived it.

Infant loss is nature's cruelest practical joke. It's investing all of the required time and effort into pregnancy, only to be robbed of the result. It's cradling a body that grew within your own and trying to reconcile the cold, lifeless form in your arms with your memory of the baby who turned double flips in your womb.

It's worrying that you'll forget what your child looked like and snapping an album's worth of photos that no one will ever ask to see. It's sobbing so hard you can't breathe and wondering if it's possible to cry yourself to death.

Infant loss is handing off a Moses basket to the nurse who's drawn the unfortunate duty of delivering your pride and joy to the morgue and walking out of a hospital with empty arms.

It's boxing up brand new baby clothes and buying a 24-inch casket. It's sifting through sympathy cards, willing your foolish body to stop lactating, clutching your baby's blanket to your chest in hopes of soothing the piercing ache in your heart.

It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.

Infant loss is explaining to your 7-year-old that sometimes babies die and being stumped into silence when she asks you why. It's watching other families live out your happy ending and fighting a fresh round of grief with every milestone you miss.

It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.

It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.

Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.

My baby girl would have been 5 years old this month. I don't know what she'd look like, what her favorite food would be. I've never had the privilege of tucking her into bed, taking her to the zoo or kissing her boo-boos. I will never watch her graduate or walk down the aisle.

Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

Laura Schubert of New Berlin is a mother, teacher and two-time breast cancer survivor. Email ljschubert@aol.com

One step at a time, day by day...

This week has been unplanned, unexpected....Denise (Ken's Mom) had a stroke last last week & was hospitalized. She is home now facing a very serious diagnosis. Ralph (Ken's Grandpa) developed health problems a few nights ago and was rushed to the hospital. This among other personal and family stresses has been a lot on all of our plates at once.

Sometimes I feel it's hard to be in the support role. I know how I like to be supported, but I always worry that I'm missing my cue...

Evenings are tough because my mind just runs and runs even if I should be asleep, or I'm tired. I just can't seem to rest at all. I'm mixing up my days and schedules. We have big plans as a family this weekend to travel to see Sesame Street Live with Landon. I have purchased all sorts of Sesame Street related items to give to him in celebration. 

I hope he has fun & enjoys the time we have together. I know I am looking forward to it.

We are just like you...

We are a normal American family, we are just like you, but....

• Sometimes we have to remind ourselves to breathe
• Sometimes we have to fight our emotions to stay "normal", "polite", "routine"
• When we look at family photos, we SMILE...but we see holes...places where our children should be sitting
• When we are asked "How many children do you have?" we swallow hard & give a brief response because giving the details is too complicated and painful
• We eat, sleep, work, love and try to find the balance in life

We are a grieving family-we grieve for our hopes and dreams, we grieve for what could have been, we grieve for the spirits and heartbeats of our children gone before us.

Our grief does not overshadow our joy for today and moments of now. Landon is a beautiful child with a kind, silly heart. We do our best, daily to be good parents. We question our decisions, what's best for him, what's best for us....can you relate? Last week as I was crying in front of him he crawled into my lap and said, "Mommy cry?" "Mommy sad?", and wiped away my tears. I honestly didn't know how to respond. I want to be "real" with him, and I want him to know about Mady, but it made me feel like he was taking on a role that wasn't appropriate for his age #Parentalguilt!

Last week as we sat by our Madelyne's gravesite and talked and cried I reflected on the fact that we are 28 years old and were visiting our child at a cemetary. Something seems very backwards about that. Madelyne, like our two other children is loved and always will be. Please try to understand that if we talk about her or them, or try to create memories of them it's because that's all we've got. We don't have a child to hug and hold, just a few mementos that mean so much.

I created a shadow box with the help of Ken & my mom and I think it's a good start to incorporating her into our home. She has been carved into our family for a longtime but I love seeing her name now, and want to have her as a part of our daily lives.

"If I could give you the best gifts of all, they would be the everlasting kind- like sunny thoughts to lift you high above your troubles and warm rays of love and friendship always in your heart. If I could shower you with happiness each hour, I would-making sure no problem ever touched your life or displaced your joy for living. If I could take your hand and lead you securely down life's path, safely shielding you from any harm, I would.

I'd do all this for you. If only the power were in my hands. I'd give you life's best gifts. But I hope you'll see that the very best gifts are truly yours already-
All the same, I'd like for you to know and remember this within your heart: I am close by caring for you greatly and wishing to protect you. My best gift to you, dear child will be as it has always been: my great love for you..."
~ Barbara J. Hall