Empty Arms, Aching Heart

I've seen this poem before today, but thought that given that today is Father's Day, I hope it is a comfort to the many Fathers and Mothers whose beloved babies have passed away. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I thought of you and closed my eyes, 

And prayed to God today.

I asked what makes a Mother, 

And I know I heard him say:

 A mother has a baby, 

This we know is true. 

But, God, can you be a mother, 

When your baby's not with you? 

Yes, you can he replied, 

With confidence in his voice. 

I give many women babies, 

When they leave is not thier choice.

Some I send for a lifetime, 

And others for a day.

 And some I send to feel your womb, 

But there's no need to stay. 

I just don't understand this God,

 I want my baby here. 

He took a breath and cleared his throat,

 And then I saw a tear. 

I wish that I could show you,

 What your child is doing today,

 If you could see your child smile,

 With other children who say: 

We go to earth and learn our lessons,

 Of love and life and fear.

 My mommy loved me oh so much,

 I got to come straight here.

 I feel so lucky to have a mom, 

Who had so much love for me. 

I learned my lessons very quickly,

 My mommy set me free.

 I miss my mommy oh so much, 

But I visit her each day. 

When she goes to sleep, 

On her pillow's where I lay. 

I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek, 

And whisper in her ear. "

Mommy don't be sad today,

I'm your baby and I'm here.

" So you see my dear sweet one, 

Your children are Ok.

 Your babies are here in My home, 

They'll be at heavens gate for you.

 So now you see what makes a mother.

 It's the feeling in your heart. 

It's the love you had so much of,

 Right from the very start. 

Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother,

 until their time is done.

 They'll be up here with Me one day,

 And you'll know that you're the best one!

 -Author Unknown

This past week was the 21st anniversary Jonathan Amos Leib's silent birth at 20 weeks.  

When I learned I was pregnant, we had a boy who was 2 yrs old, and twins that were 6 months old.  Honestly, I really wasn't ready to be pregnant again. I even had a passing thought that something might not go right this time.  That might have been due to the severity of my morning sickness. Neither of my previous pregnancies made me feel so horrible, and "lose my lunch"  almost immediately after  I ate.

We anticipated the Doctor's visit when we would hear baby's heartbeat for the first time. Aside from my inablity to keep food down, everyone rejoiced at the swish-swish sound, and assurance that baby was alive and well.

Feeling the first flutters of my little one in the womb, you can't describe it. 

All seemed well until the 20th week appointment. The doctor was all ready, we were all ready, but the little machine was silent. Try as he might, the doctor, now almost desperate himself, and trying to remain calm, was unable to pick up a heartbeat.

The next little while is a bit of a blur to me. I recall being sent for a sonogram. The sonographer didn't stop to point out the throbbing heart. She spoke in hushed whispers and sent us back to the Doctor. When he gave us the news that our little baby was dead, my heart broke.  

At 20 weeks they have to induce labor if you don't go into labor on your own. My thoughts about making the arrangements for that are cloudy.  But time was not wasted.

What I do clearly remember is the silence, and how alone I felt, how I kept hoping and praying that it was just a mistake.

During my 2 previous births, the room was filled with the noise of monitors, and chatter about contractions, and progress. Doctors and nurses were in and out of the room checking all my stats so much that I wanted them to just leave me alone.  That's why the silence stood out to me. The tiny room was isolated, and aside from my husband being with me, we were very much left alone.

I pleaded with the LORD to revive my baby before the medicines they were pumping into me to make labor start, would start. I prayed that if it was a mistake and my baby was actually alive, that they would be able to handle his/her needs. It was bad enough to have to deliver your lifeless child, and being sick from the drugs to keep the process going just made things worse.  

Finally, it was time for the baby to come. More silence. 

I don't know what I expected, but when I looked at my little son, lifeless before me, I felt shocked.  For some reason I really believed that he would have some obvious deformity, which would have caused his demise. (That is what they called it: Fetal Demise)

Before losing Jonathan, I cried, alot. I am a cry-baby in many ways. However, I had never, ever cried the way I did, with such deep grief, and pain. 

He has been gone 21 yrs. now. Unbeknownst to most of my family,  at birthdays and family events, or even just watching a movie, I look around the room, at all the faces of the people who mean everything to me, and there is a void.  I always feel like someone is missing.  Well, he is, right?  

Watching my 4 sons grow into young men, it isn't uncommon for me to think, "I wonder if he would be more like Dave, or Dan?" What color would his hair be? Would he be shy or ougoing?  

Thinking this way is natural. Yes, even after 21 yrs it is normal.

"Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." Isaiah 49:15

 This song is very sweet and comforting. Thank you G. family for sending it. 

While many are celebrating Mother's day with their children, near or far, to some, this is a day of sad

remembrance. Remembering the short trip of motherhood that ended too soon. Whatever the reason, baby loss anytime

after a positive pregnancy test, is traumatic. My heart goes out to you. Childlessness and motherhood seem

to be contradictory terms. But, when it comes to baby-loss, age doesn't matter. The loss of a child of any age

cuts a deep gash in your heart. Time lets you get used to the ache but it never fully goes away. Hug your children

a little tighter and closer, and thank the LORD for His goodness, and remember to pray for the childless

mothers among us who silently suffer through this day.

If you are one who has lost one, several or all your children, your grief and pain are not forgotten.

When I sit down to write, ordinarily the content is something with which I am well acquainted. Such is the case now. Having lived to tell about the loss of 7 babies, is miraculous. In fact, there is not human reason why I did not lose my own life except for the mercy and grace of God. Though it was my unborn baby's time, it was not mine. But the sorrow and grief made me wish differently.

Motivated by love, my desire in having this website is to minister to the multitudes of women who are part of the "sisterhood of baby loss."

That is what moved me to write a letter to a dear one of mine when she joined our group, and that why I share that letter from my heart with all of you now. A letter to comfort and encourage others who have firsthand experience with baby loss, and to give those who haven't a glimpse into the heart and mind of one who has.

Going through difficulties, it often helps us cope when we know someone else has gone through it, and survived.

When I read Beth's testimony, it was just too precious to not to share. She graciously gave permission for me to post it here. Thank you Beth. (((HUGS)))

Even though it's been 23 years and 16 years, respectively, since our first and last pregnancy loss, the tenderness still lies there just beneath the surface. To talk about it is still painful, and usually I find myself speaking matter-of-factly, trying to keep my composure. That is why I created a page for testimonies. Survivors need encouragement, comfort and help, from ones who have walked the same road and lived to tell about it.

Warning: have tissues handy.

Perhaps it is the thought of another child's upcoming marriage thatallow my thoughts to drift to the land of wishes and what ifs.

As my children are leaving the nest,

far too quickly for my taste, I find myself still hoping that there were more of them....more to hold, to love, to laugh and cry with, to anticipate each stage of life.... but that is not to be. At least not as far as human eyes can see.

My baby is 11 years old. And the calendar keeps on moving forward without stopping.

Today I am wishing things could have been different for us. Yet, as impossible as this will sound, I honestly do not have any anger or bitterness for the losses we suffered, and I have seen much good come out of deep sorrow and pain.

Not only pain, but hopelessness, wondering was I being punished?

Did I do something to cause it?

 Will I ever feel like living again?

Decmber 1, 2010

If you are reading here today,it means you, or someone you love has joined  the sisterhood of empty arms. 

Please accept my sincerest sympathy.  As one who has lived through it more than once, my heart goes out to you, as do my prayers for comfort and healing--physically, emotionally and spiritually. 

As I am able to revisit those painful episodes of my life, i will share more of my heart and mindset, and explain how I survived.

Pregnancy loss at any stage is a devastating tragedy.  It blows a whole in your family that can never be filled by anyone else--not even another baby  There is always the underlying, nagging, wondering "what if".  To survive and move forward all the family members must grieve this loss in their own way, and time, recognizing that things are different now. 

Dads grieve differently than Moms, but grieve they do. Siblings share in the pain as well.

Though time lessens the pain, and that guilty feeling that creeps

up on you when you realize that a whole day went by and you didn't think about the baby you lost happens less frequently, the emptiness, the wondering what if, even thinking "he/she would be (this) old now," will happen.

It has been 14 years since my last miscarriage. There are weeks at a time that it never comes to mind, and something unexpected will be said, or a friend will tell me that a mutual friend, or acquaintance has just lost her baby, just like that, I am reminded of the pain.

Not only pain, but hopelessness, wondering was I being punished, did I do something to cause it, will I ever feel like living again.

I know all those feelings and more. I truly wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but I so hope that I will be able to give some words of comfort. If nothing else, you are welcome to cry on my shoulder, and vent your anger, frustration, hurt, etc.