Don’t Play the Shame Game

Don’t Play the Shame Game

One summer day, back in 2010, I was visiting friends out in the country. Our kids played in the backyard while my two girlfriends and I sipped lemonade in the shade, talking about motherhood. My friend Liz had two kids, Sarah had three, one a newborn that slept in her lap, and I had Hannah. I was also pregnant with Zachary at the time. “I’m totally done,” said Liz, “Two is enough for me.” “I don’t know,” Sarah pondered, stroking the head of her tiny baby. “I could see myself having one more.” We talked as women in control. We controlled when we got pregnant, how we would deliver, and how many kids we would have. Control… We talked about how easy it was for us all to get pregnant, and thankfully had no complications. I felt so proud at that time, on top of the...

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It’s Better To Love

There are a lot of hoops to jump through when you go to school out of the country. As a Canadian about to start grad school in the States, I feel bogged down by paperwork. Some of that includes a health form regarding my immunization history. That is how I found myself in a health clinic today, realizing that I needed one more shot to be completely vaccinated. I’ve always loathed needles. Since I was small the very sight of them has brought out in me pitiful sobs and I begin to sweat, grow tense, wriggle and fidget. Today, the nurse commented on how well I did considering my phobia. I told her it’s due to the thousands (more like hundreds) of needles I had to endure leading up to and following Zachary’s birth and death, and in the nine months of genetics testing...

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Happy Mother’s Day?

Happy Mother’s Day?

Mother’s Day is complicated when your child has died, especially if you have no other living children. After the loss of my precious Zachary I thought, “Who am I?” as the following year elapsed without my consent and sadness festered. Other common feelings for those whose child has passed away include: What am I? Am I still a mother? I never had the opportunity to bring my baby home, feed him or her, change diapers, teach reading and bike riding or any of the other normal things mom’s get to do… So what does Mother’s Day mean for me? When hearing the question, “Am I a mother?” without hesitation I will tell you, “Yes!” From the moment you conceived and a love for your child blossomed in your heart, I believe you were and continue to be a mother. As you...

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Sharing our Children’s Birth Stories

Sharing our Children’s Birth Stories

I read an interesting post called “Family Storytelling” on the blog for the Centre for Family Literacy. The post was by Jonna Grad and encouraged parents to tell their children the story of their birth. The idea is to build strong bonds and encourage language development through oral storytelling. I remember my mom telling me the story of my birth when I was young. We would cuddle up before I went to sleep and she would describe the wintery night when she went into labor with me and how her and my dad rushed to the hospital. These are precious memories. After reading “Family Storytelling” I asked my 3 year old daughter Hannah if she wanted to hear the story of when she was born. She eagerly nodded with much curiosity. After telling her the story multiple times,...

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Kids ‘Get’ Baby Loss; The Compassion of One Young Boy

A month ago I wrote, “We Can Learn from Children’s Response to Death,” and this is a follow up post to that. It was a few months ago, at Roots of Empathy, that I told the students in the grade two class about the death of my second child Zachary. At the time I guessed many of them could not comprehend my words as they sat watching my third child, Eden, play with toys on the blanket in front of us. How could a baby die, right? Actually, I was very wrong. Then, at my most recent visit to the school, one seven year old boy spoke up and touched my heart. As a class we were discussing Eden’s eating habits and out of the blue this student said to me: “I’m sad that Zachary died.” “Me too,” I said. “I wish he hadn’t died so that you could be happy.” “Thank you,” is all I...

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