Month: October 2017

Wave of Light

Michelle Van Benthem

Once again, I participated in an event that I never imagined would be part of my life, The Wave of Light. As I have posted before, October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  In addition, October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. At 7:00 pm, local time, people light candles in remembrance of those children who never had the chance to come home or grow up. The idea is, if everyone lights a candle at 7:00 pm and keeps it burning for at least one hour, there will be a continuous wave of light over the entire world.

In my attempt to preserve the memory of my daughters and to bring awareness to the overwhelming world that is pregnancy and infant loss, I posted about the Wave of Light and asked for participation from my friends and family. I must say, I am completely overwhelmed by the love and support I received. Friends, family, and co-workers all took part, lighting candles in memory of Stella and Joy. I received texts, Facebook and Instagram notifications, and pictures from those who participated. Surprisingly, I did not cry. Instead, I smiled. It was amazing to see how many lives my daughters touched, even though they never had the chance to live or grow up.

In the months since delivering Stella and Joy, I have joined numerous support groups on Facebook. Connecting with women who have also experienced stillbirth or pregnancy loss has helped me feel that I am not alone. My timeline was FILLED with candles, lights, pictures, and stories posted by these women. It is overwhelming to see just how many lives this affects, but there was something peaceful about seeing the wave of light. Something calming.

So thank you to those of you who participated in memory of Stella and Joy. It means the world to me and Zach that you took the time to remember and honor our girls.


 

Disconnected

Michelle Van Benthem

Another baby was born this week, healthy and alive. To put it bluntly, this shit sucks. People around me have continued to go to have happy, healthy pregnancies and babies. Some even at the same hospital where Stella & Joy were born sleeping. I’m still angry, still bitter, still resentful. It’s not their fault, they deserve their healthy babies, but so did I! Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond thrilled for the families who get to take their babies home, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Even as my pregnancy progresses and this baby is growing and moving and doing great, I find myself struggling to connect. I struggle to bond with this baby. Every time I sit in a doctor’s office, I have already mentally prepared for those five words, “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat.” I have accepted that fate as my own. Again.

Sometimes I catch myself dreaming about the future. Making plans. Talking about “this time next year…” and “when the baby’s here…”. I try to remind myself that I can’t plan that far ahead. Statistically speaking, I only have ~3% chance of anything bad happening by this point in my pregnancy. But I was that minuscule percent last time. I want nothing more than to connect with this baby and to be fully invested, but past experience is keeping me from letting my guard down.

I love this baby. Really, I do. But disconnection is my natural defense mechanism at this point. From time to time I sit in my glider in the nursery-to-be and read out loud. I’m doing the best I can, but this isn’t easy. 

As the first trimester draws to a close, I can only hope for the best. I can hope for a happy, healthy baby. I can hope for an uncomplicated pregnancy. I can hope for the bond to grow, for me to be less disconnected.


 

Double Digits

Double Digits

Michelle Van Benthem

10 months. It has now been 10 months since Stella & Joy both entered and left this world. My world. I am officially in double digits. I don’t know why, but this feels like a turning point. Like the world around me has officially moved on. Like people are saying “its long enough, time  to move on.” (No one has actually said that to me, just to be clear.) There is something more permanent about double digits. I don’t know what it is or why, but it just feels more real. Just two more months and it will be a year.

I know my whole world hasn’t moved on. This affects people everyday. My daughters, though their time with us was brief, have impacted so many. My parents who struggle with the fact that they lost their first grandchildren. My best friend who had a breakdown while touring a NICU at a hospital for work. My husband, who works out-of-state and has to cope with the loss of his daughter alone during the nights we are apart. I know I am not the only one affected. But sometimes it feels that way.

At times, I feel guilty. Guilty for going a day without “being affected”. My grief comes in waves, thought the time between swells is getting longer, I find the swells are bigger when they do come. I may go days or even weeks without breaking down, but when I do, I do it hard.

I still struggle to make sense of it all. Why me? Why us? Why my daughters? I still wonder what I could have done differently and blame myself at times. I was their caretaker. I carried them inside me. I knew them. I think about the what ifs. What if I refused to leave the hospital Tuesday night? What if I went in Thursday like I was originally scheduled instead of waiting until Friday? What if I went in sooner on Friday? I dream about who Stella and Joy would become. Would they have kept their red curly hair? Would they have been right-handed or left-handed? Would they have started to look more identical?

10 months. 10 months of wondering and what ifs. 10 months of missing part of my heart. 10 months of struggling to come to grips with my new reality, my new life. I don’t think I will ever fully understand or accept what happened. Stella and Joy brought so much happiness and light to my life, even before I met them. Even though their passing brought such sorrow and devastation, I would do it all again. My daughters taught me so much about unconditional love, overcoming fears, and accepting that I can’t do it all alone.

As I continue on this journey, I know I will have good days and bad. 10 months is a long time, but a lifetime is so much longer. I am “lucky” to know women who have walked this path before me. I hate that we are connected by this, but I am thankful to have such a wide support network.

All I know for sure, after 10 months it isn’t any easier. I miss my girls…

Stella & Joy,

Not a day goes by that you are forgotten. Your lives have touched so many people and I am so proud to be your mom. These 10 months have only made my love for you grow stronger. Please watch over your  still growing brother or sister. I can’t wait to tell this little one all about you and how lucky we are to have you watching over us. You are so loved and so missed by so many people.  

I will forever love you,

Mom

My October

Michelle Van Benthem

October has always been breast cancer awareness month. Go pink! What most people don’t know, is that October is also pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. Most people don’t know this because it is such a taboo topic.

I first learned this from my friend Cathy. She lost her second child, Sean, to SIDS a few months after he was born. Cathy posted links and information on Facebook to charities and organizations that supported and raised awareness for SIDS. I would occasionally share one, trying to support my friend, but of course, Go Pink! still ruled October.

This month, I will be posting a lot. Some may be long, some short. By talking about the loss of Sean, Cathy made me aware of October being about more than just “saving the ta-tas.” I hope I can continue to spread this awareness and end the taboo nature of pregnancy loss.

1 in 4 pregnancies end in loss. That is a staggering number. You don’t realize just how many people it effects until you open up the conversation. Since I publicly announced the loss of Stella and Joy, the number of friends who reached out telling me stories of miscarriage and loss, their own or someone they know, has been overwhelming. This is real life. It’s happening everyday. Let’s open the door to discussions and honesty.

Don’t stop going pink this month, but take a moment to add a little blue every now and then.

In honor of Cathy and in memory of Sean, I am including a link to First Candle (originally called CJ’s First Candle), the same charity Cathy posted about years ago.

http://firstcandle.org/