I’ve had plenty of beautiful Christmases.
I’ve had more than a decade of more somber ones.
But when our pastor recently asked, “What was the best Christmas gift you ever received?” I didn’t have to think hard at all.
It was my daughter, Fiona.
Read the rest here:Best Christmas Gift EVER
I’ve had plenty of beautiful Christmases.
I’ve had more than a decade of more somber ones.
But when our pastor recently asked, “What was the best Christmas gift you ever received?” I didn’t have to think hard at all.
It was my daughter, Fiona.
Read the rest here: Best Christmas Gift EVER
Tomorrow I will be sixty years old.
When I celebrated my fiftieth, I had so many dreams and plans! I couldn’t have imagined that the next ten years would be filled with the heartache of child loss, along with all the hope and joy of an expanding family.
But here I am.
Definitely older and, I would like to think, a little wiser.
Wiser to the truth that no one escapes pain in this life. Wiser to the fact that joy and sorrow can coexist. Wise enough to know by experience that sometimes the very best thing you can do is shut your mouth and open your arms to a hurting heart. Wise enough to realize that birthdays for bereaved parents are often complicated.
I wrote this post several years ago but share it annually because unless you’ve sent a child ahead to Heaven, you might not realize how very tricky birthdays can be for the parents left behind.
❤ Melanie
Tomorrow is my birthday.
And while I am truly grateful for another trip around the sun, since Dominic left us it’s not a simple celebration of life lived and the hope of years to come.
The last birthday I had with an unbroken family circle was a lovely surprise party for my fiftieth held in Dom’s apartment.
Ten years later and it seems a lifetime ago.
Read the rest here: Birthdays Are…Complicated
It cannot be overstated: holidays are extremely hard after loss. Every family gathering highlights the hole where my son SHOULD be, but ISN’T.
There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to handle the holidays after losing a child.
For many, there is only survival-especially the very first year.
These days also stir great internal conflict: I want to enjoy and celebrate my living children and my family still here while missing my son that isn’t. Emotions run high and are, oh so difficult to manage.
So I’m including some ideas from other bereaved parents on how they’ve handled the holidays. Many of these suggestions could be adapted for any “special” day of the year.
Not all will appeal to everyone nor will they be appropriate for every family. But they are a place to start.
Read the rest here: Practical Ideas for Dealing with the Holidays after Child Loss
I know it is hard. I know you don’t truly understand how I feel. You can’t. It wasn’t your child.
I know I may look and act like I’m “better”. I know that you would love for things to be like they were: BEFORE. But they aren’t.
I know my grief interferes with your plans. I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years. But I can’t help it. I didn’t ask for this to be my life.
I know that every year I seem to need something different. I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating. But I’m working this out as I go. I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son. It’s new for me every year too.
Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family
You don’t have to bury a child to know that changing long-standing family traditions around holidays is a hard, hard thing.
Just ask a parent trying to work out Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time after an adult child marries. Suddenly the way things have “always been” are no longer the way things are.
Holidays typically involve so many more people and family members than everyday get-togethers and each person brings expectations, emotions and personal history to the table.
So, that is why I decided to run this series of posts NOW. Because one of the things I have learned over the years is that giving people time to adjust to change is a good thing.
Read the rest here: Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations
I’ve had plenty of beautiful Christmases.
I’ve had more than a decade of more somber ones.
But when our pastor recently asked, “What was the best Christmas gift you ever received?” I didn’t have to think hard at all.
It was my daughter, Fiona.
She wasn’t born ON Christmas but a week before-today is her birthday-and I was oh, so glad to finally hold that tiny bundle in my arms instead of in my belly.
My first successful pregnancy (I’d miscarried a year before) was a long, hard and difficult one. I never achieved that “glow” so many women enjoy while hormones guaranteeing baby’s health and safety surged through my system.
Instead I was desperately ill for the first four months as I wrapped up my college degree. (In hindsight, taking biology at six in the morning was a bad choice.) I spent many of those days in close communion with the toilet or a bowl when I couldn’t muster the energy to get to the bathroom.
I had a few short golden weeks before my body revolted once again and I developed a serious case of preeclampsia. Now my doctor visits were weekly and included fetal monitoring.
Back then there were few interventions for this condition so it was wait and see, wait and see all the while I counted days and weeks until I could reach the magic “thirty-four week” mark of likely viability.
Thankfully, we made it!
But then that little Miss decided to assert her personality and refuse to make an entrance.
So…finally…I was scheduled to deliver ten full days after her due date of December 8th.
It was a long day of pitocin, contractions, no progress and a swift trip to the OR for what ended up being an emergency C-section. Drama all the way!
She was here, safe and sound, in my arms at last.
There are lots of things I don’t remember in detail about that day or even the week that followed but I remember this: I knew in my bones that life would never be the same. This precious child made me a mama and my heart would forever be wrapped around hers.
I’m so very thankful I had the blessing of three more little ones after that.
I’m grateful for the lives they’ve lived and the ones they are living now.
I miss my third-born, Dominic. His birth story is woven just as firmly into the fabric of my being as Fiona’s and that of her other brothers.
I can’t pick out his threads without unraveling the whole cloth.
And I don’t want to.
I celebrate today the gift of motherhood and the gift of children.
Even when one of them leaves too soon.
Love is always costly, but love is always worth the price.
As families gather around tables and in backyards to celebrate fall birthdays, Thanksgiving and (soon!) Christmas, my heart longs even harder to hear Dominic’s name.
Of course I remember him-he’s my son-and of course others do too.
But it is especially helpful this time of year to have friends and family speak of him aloud.
Read the rest here: Let Me Know You Remember
I first shared this post in 2019-before the pandemic, before Mama joined Dominic in Heaven and before the latest, delightful addition of another grandson.
Most of what I shared then is true now-we are not the family I thought we’d be. We desperately miss Dominic and the part of ourselves that he reflected back to us.
But we celebrate when and where we can. We make much of our time together. We laugh and love and live on.
❤
I miss a lot of things since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
I miss HIM-his deep voice, his perspective and his thump-thump-thumping down the stairs and the rhythm of who he is.
And I miss how his absence has reshaped the family I thought I’d have.
Read the rest here: Child Loss: Missing The Family I Thought I’d Have
I want to be everything my living children need me to be.
I try hard to celebrate them, be available, listen closely and love them well.
I never, ever want them to feel they are competing with their missing brother for my affection or my attention.
But I’d be lying if I said it was always easy.
Read the rest here: Crossroads: Celebrations After Child Loss
thelifeididntchoose 