Thank you.

Yes! Yes! Yes!And even if you don't wish the pulse to sweep over the happy people, you sit, in your corner, flattened by the enormity of your life's change and watch everyone else go by. You wish for them to know your child, to know that child existed, was loved, is loved.Tell us, we are here, and we want to know.

You have such a way with words that makes one understand just a little better.

Even the mama's that never get to hold their babies, only knew them as a glimmer, a flutter or kick....

Thank you.

Today, on this strange calender I have at work is "The Light You See When You Close Your Eyes Day". I find the light strangely comforting.

And feel us out there, mothers who haven't felt the pain you feel, but try our best to imagine. Although we don't know what to say, and we don't feel the same rage, we don't judge you for it and we welcome your healing in whatever form it comes. Please know we support you, too.

powerful, helpful and real. it hurts at times and is okay sometimes. Letting go hurts so bad that I can't see what's on the other side some days -until I am on the other side for a moment and it is good, but I don't know how I got there.

Thank you Kate. I feel so blessed with these two little boys but they are missing their third. In last night's feeding frenzy, I laid both my boys down finally and I swear I could still hear cries of my third. It takes time to process loss and is far too simple to expect our blessings to mitigate our losses. Your writing speaks to this understanding.

A friend gave me a link to this post. Thank you so much for sharing! It has been 10 months since we lost our daughter, Sydney. I have found these things to be true. We have our good days, our bad days, and our down-right rotten days. She is always there with us. It is sad/nice to know there are others out there struggling with the same emotions as we are. I will be posting about this on my site.

Exactly what Shannon said. And forgive us our sometime awkwardness, or pooh-poohing the miracle of our healthy children who are here with us. We so want to acknowledge and honor the enormity of your loss, and support you in any way we can.

damn straight.we'll all huddle along in our penguin pack, shielding each other what we can of the wind and the cold- strength in our numbers overpowering the hopelessness of being alone.

and, a belated happy 3rd to evan. xo.

Thank you Kate. Your words, as always, are beautiful and hit the nail directly on the head.I consider myself "lucky", as simply strange as that sounds to say and type. Mine was an early loss, before the kicks and signs of life that make it even more real than it was for me. But the pain still lingers, some days more than others, usually disguised as fear that closes my throat or makes me hyperventilate for what could go wrong with this pregnancy, or even my sweet 2.5 year old boy. I think that the blackness will be with us always, even on those days when we don't know it so much. But that blackness has also taught me a greater appreciation for my days ... a greater appreciation for the blessings I have. I have to keep reminding myself of the positives, because otherwise the fear will swallow me whole.It is a beautiful thing, Kate, to have you here, you and your talent for words and putting them together into the feelings that can't always be expressed. Whether you voice the pain of loss, the fun of motherhood, or the sheer exhaustion and unappreciated feelings, you do it with grace and ... and now my pregnant brain has given out on me and the words won't come. Anyway - thank you.

Beautifully, simply put. Strong words that actually feel like a hug when you read them. Nice.

Thank you....

I can't even type....

thank you

I'm in between. I didn't lose my son, but I lost the son I thought I'd have. (Ya know, I thought I was getting on a plane to Italy and landed in Holland instead.) I love him and his personality, and if he didn't have 3 copies of chromosome 21 then he wouldn't be who he is; at the same time that I wish he was going to have a "normal" life, I don't want to change him because he's so cool.

What I really mean to say is that not all of us who haven't lost a child have perfect, healthy families. Some of us spent a very short time with our babies in the NICU, but we (so far) have spent 4 stays in the PICU.

I know that you weren't picking on me. I don't mean to sound defensive. I guess I just want to shout out that there is a third group here. And I love your writing and read faithfully too. Hugs and Happy New Year to you all.

Understood KYouell, loud and clear. You don't sound defensive at all. You're absolutely right. We almost landed in Holland too, as you know. It was to be one or the other, but like you, I would be mourning the wholeness or health or ordinaryness of Liam either way.

Truthfully, in those first few months I was so sad that he was gone, I did look at the world through the warped filter of thinking that everyone else was living the picture book. Self-pity is part of the journey, and that involves lusting for the assumed good fortune of everyone else - even if that's not true or logical or fair.

Good point, and thanks for raising it.

And to Shannon and others who haven't been there but try to have empathy, thank you. I don't mean to make it sound as though you can't provide comfort or understanding. You can, just with an ear.

yr blog is beautiful

I am a reader now/yr wonderful writing/yr adorable bebes/yr brave soulxoxoxoxox

this is amazing.

i haven't lost a baby, or anyone near me for that matter...but i needed to hear it.

everyone does...

Only 3 weeks since Evan was born still 41 weeks and 3 days old (in me), my precious man, his image will never leave me, but I am hopeful the rage will cause its hard to live with right now.I am sad to know so many other understand, but greatful to know I dont have to suffer alone.

This is particularly poignant today in New Brunswick. 7 mothers now without children.

i know all those feelings. am shocked when they rip open again and blow through me, shocked by how much it can still hurt, still create those small corner-whimpers of confusion, like i am a kicked puppy trying to figure out what the world wants of me.

my sorrow and love and a hand held out through the ether to whoever prompted this post. hold on. we're listening, those of us who've been where you are or who have suffered our own different adjustments of expectations...and those who just care.

beautiful. sadness. heartbreaking. life.

Just hold on and let time pass, Jaime Maynard. That is all you can do right now. Read the archives here so you can cry and let it all out, and then cry some more. It's okay. I'm so,so sorry for the loss of your little son.

Mad, my heart is in Bathurst too, now even more so with Bon and Dave's posts. Heartbroken.

And as Molly and Bon already said, love and sorrow to you Jaime, and to all the other shellshocked mamas out there who need solidarity. There have been quite a few in the past few days that I've connected with, coincidentally, a rush of new voices, new hurting.. I'm thinking of them almost constantly. A strange feeling to be a little further down the gauntlet than they are. Wanting them to know there is a 'further ahead', eventually.

I have gone to leave comments on your site about 10 times before.. I've been reading for almost a year now. And every time I've gone to leave a comment after typing it up and re reading it.. it never seemed right.. so it got deleted and never sent.It's amazing how you can put into words so many of the feelings/thoughts/emotions I remember going through when I lost my little girl. You have a true gift and I'm glad for it. For you, for Liam, for me and my daughter and for all the other mothers and babies who have had to go down this path. It's a gift.It will be 11 years next month since I lost my daughter. 11 years since I got see her little face and hold her and love her. She only lived for 5 minutes outside the womb and forever there will be this place in my heart and soul that can never be whole again and that's okay. I wouldn't want it to be. It hurts less over time.. but it never will be whole again. I have had 1 child since her passing, a little boy who spent 5 days in the NICU and is now a glorious happy 2 year old. Next month. He and his sister share a birthday you see.. 9 years apart almost to the minute.. as if the universe tried to offer comfort on that day. And I felt like my body had cheated my daughter out of her own special day.. her birth and death day.. I am pregnant again. Due in 7 weeks. I'll hit full term on my son and daughter's birthday (Feb 11th) and I am hoping that this little one picks any day but that one.Anyway I've rambled now.. I mostly just wanted to say thank you for putting to words what I have never been able to.

the cheesecloth of the heart? With the holes? that is so exactly, unerringly true. It flutters no matter the loss, or how much time passes.

You totally described my heart to me.

Thanks. I love feeling so welcome here. There don't seem to be a lot of places I fit in. I never know if I should be going to the T21 support group or the heart surgery support group -- where are the other moms who need both? But here it seems that we are all welcome. Thanks for letting me stand up and be counted.

And here we all are, everyone else, and everything in between, marveling at your use of language, hoping for peace in an unquiet heart.

I have no words other than these:Beautiful;Sorrowful;Aching; and,Thankfulness for my three blessings.

Your bravery in words and in life leaves me astounded.

Glad I found your blog.

Marianne

Kate, I, too, have put off commenting for so long...out of some fear of stepping into something that was not my place. Or somehow saying something wrong. It's clear that this is a welcoming space and so it's time for me to break my silence.

I am so sorry for your loss and the loss that so many of your readers have experienced. And I'm sorry that there is still something that makes these discussions so difficult to have in our "real" lives. And I am so thankful for and proud of you and Bon and other bloggers who put their truths out there and, in doing so, hopefully find healing and definitely find others who need to hear what you have to say.

To all of you super strong Momma's who have been through so much....even though many of us hear have never walked down the same paths as you, we all know what it is to love our children with every ounce of our being. My heart aches for all of you who have faced what no parent ever should.

Hopefully this small cyber support system may help you just a little bit.

The cheesecloth? A perfect illustration of what it feels like.

Amen. You have sisters out here who have or have not experienced such loss, but who mourn and remember with you nonetheless. Please remember, you are never alone. Tell us about your little ones, speak their names, tell us what you want to say.

We will listen.

~my favorite part: don't apologize for a single thing.those words need to be shouted from the rooftops. now is the time to take care of you, no matter what that entails.

kate, i've found that one of the greatest gifts of grief has been my ability to look straight into someones eyes and say "I know."

to be able to trust those very few who have journeyed that path- to be open and vulnerable and raw and honest- that is the way we hold on to each other and carry each other forward. some did it for you (still do), now you'll do it for others, and it will go on. you'll continue to bless others as others have blessed you- thanks.

This is really, really lovely.

Wow your words always got straight into my heart like an arrow through the my computer.

After ten years of infertility, then a broken marriage, at 43 I am pretty sure that I won't ever be a mama... I cry about that sometimes, because I'd rather do that then feel nothing.We all go on, in our own way, trying not to let these holes in our hearts define who we are.I chatted with a transgender friend last week who said, "At least you HAVE a uterus"!! I had to laugh, and nod.

I too lost a baby who should have been born about a month before my daughter started full-time school. And when everybody congratulated me on having "all that free time" I just wanted to shout and scream at them "I should have my hands full with a newborn - how can you have forgotten already? I haven't and I never will." My pain was still very raw but they couldn't see it.

And my second daughter was born on the 2nd Anniversary of that loss......so I never can forget it and understand how Cheli feels.But if I hadn't lost that baby I wouldn't have had Little Miss Chatterbox, so at least i have that blessing.

The personal journey of dealing with grief is challenging and, at times, harrowing. And yet you find the grace to be the teacher to both those who have suffered loss, and also to those who huddle with the penguins. Thanks for showing the way, Kate.

thanks sometimes its good to remember there is a family out here too.

I just found your blog through journey mama. You write simply and honestly about your life. I love it. Thank you.

Just perfection Kate. All of you who have experienced loss of any form are stronger than I feel I could ever be if dealt the same hand. You all make me ever more thankful for my boy. At the same time I pray for your peace through the most unthinkable of losses. You are all inspiring and loved out here in the world of blog.

The pulse --- I wish for that too, sometimes. Thank you for giving voice to that.

those new ben pictures are incredible!

delurking--such beautiful and powerful words. it applies even to moms who hope for a child but can't conceive. i've recently discovered your blog and have read your beautiful words and of your loss. i'm not judging at all, here, and not that i know anything, i'm just a stranger. but...just wondering if you've tried counseling (either individual or marital). this is coming from a mama of 2 and a trained therapist, who has grieved much in my life. your writing seems that it may be "therapy" enough. in the rough times in my life, therapy has saved me and healed me. it helps so much to have someone to talk to that is somewhat objective. and to have a place for you and your husband to talk about unspoken things. men sometimes have an even harder time with grief if they don't feel society allows them to grieve. anyway, thanks for your words and openly sharing your grief. you have helped heal countless hearts, including mine. best of luck in your journey of healing.

Just beautiful Kate...

All is calm...and then...all of sudden a huge wave throw you off your feet...

you stand up...wipe the tears off your face...try to stay focus...

but in that moment when you fall,every heartbreaking dream,thought,imaginings you have for that little one came rushing out to the surface...then you smile...andcontinuelife.

xx

I am delurking to thank you so much for writing this post. I have never related to words so much in my life. All at once, I am so sorry that you have experienced such pain, yet comforted that "someone out there" gets it. exactly.

Thanks for this. We lost our daughter during a very traumatic birth over five years ago. If you'd like to read the post, here it is. It's a hopeful post, believe it or not. I find your writing incredibly honest and therapeutic. Thank you so much.http://cheeseinmyshoe.blogspot.com/2008/01/babiesmemories.html

Beautiful.