Honor Walk

A dear friend encouraged me to share this story. It's Vivian's 10 year birthday.

There are distinct moments when you become acutely aware of living out your purpose for pain. This story would never have happened had it not been for the love and brief life of our Vivian.

As I walked onto the labor and delivery unit for my day of being on call, there was a palpable chill in the air with far fewer people bustling about. I knew something wasn't right. A few minutes later a baby in an incubator wheels by being escorted by staff with long faces. A sweet family held their full term baby for the first and last time. 

This was not a family in the care of our specific group but all were touched by the loss. It especially stirred in me the need to do something. It was no coincidence I was there; my heart swelled with a grief all too familiar to me. 

To provide a little back story, only those in my innermost circle are aware of what it was like for my husband and I to be discharged the night after Vivian was born. This was the very unit I worked on as a labor and delivery nurse so everyone knew us. One of the worst fall out moments played out like a slow motion film as I was wheeled down the hallway to the elevator without our baby girl in our arms. Co-workers literally dodged behind walls to avoid eye contact or to cross our path. Others continued to complete their tasks as usual as if nothing had happened. Only a few offered condolences. It was a surreal, out of body experience for me. Our whole world came to an abrupt halt and even though I knew the rest of the world wouldn't stop, I sure wanted it to even for just a few moments. This scene is forever etched in my mind's eye. Please know that in hind sight, I have full grace for my co-workers at the time. You learn pretty quickly after experiencing trauma that everyone has a certain capacity. Some can be with you in grief and others just can't. Fear can also be debilitating especially the fear of saying the wrong thing, so some will say nothing. Those that "ducked" just weren't capable. 

Ok, back to the story.

I saw an opportunity to honor this little life and the love this family had for their baby and knew my window was narrow. I called the lead OBGYN of the other group and asked her permission to support this family with an 'honor walk'. A little side note, there are actually many different types of honor walks, of which the one we're all most familiar with is for those donating an organ to potentially save another life. As hospital staff and family line the walls as the patient is wheeled by, they stop what they're doing to honor the life that was. It's a very beautiful thing. I had long envisioned this same 'walk' with hospital staff standing quietly holding signs with the baby's name, drawn pictures, and heart cut outs. Our way of stopping to honor the smallest of life lost.

The first words out of the OBGYN's mouth was "I think that's a terrible idea!" It was a response I wasn't expecting and shook me to the core. I explained the purpose, the thought behind it, and of course wouldn't do it without the family's permission. After much coaxing, she relented to the decision falling on the new OBGYN who was on call that morning. Turns out she thought it was a good idea and was willing to ask the family if this would be something they'd like us to do for them. They accepted. Everyone on the unit rallied! Nurses pulled paper, markers, crayons, scissors and anything else that could be used to create thoughtful signs. There was a revived energy, a purpose that was in the air. We all could do something that was potentially meaningful and also gave us an outlet for the grief we all felt. I don't recall one person not being supportive of the idea. We even called the Hospital House Supervisor to see if she wanted to come up to be a part of our honor walk. 

The family was ready to leave. We all gathered on both sides of the hallway holding heart cut outs, signs with the baby's name, drawn teddy bears, and written words that said this baby will not be forgotten. It was one of the most moving moments of my life. This sweet couple stopped at each and every one of us to give a hug and expressed gratitude. Tears fell from all. 

To be able to spare a family from experiencing awful on top of awful was indescribable. Now, I recognize not all families who experience baby loss would want an honor walk. It was evident on this day, this family was moved by it. I also took a peek weeks later at the Mom's facebook page; she had one of the signs that we made that day as her profile pic. It was additional confirmation that my heart needed. 

The not so great fall out was in taking heat afterwards for not going through the "proper channels" to have made this more formal with Administration. We all know cutting through red tape takes time and that's what we didn't have that day. I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

I'd love to see this type of Honor Walk become the norm for families of baby loss who would be honored by it. May the love of our Vivian keep on giving!

1Peter 5:10

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.

2Corinthians 1:4

...The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. 

Baby Land

     We must have looked like death. Days after saying hello and goodbye to our sweet Vivian, my husband and I arrived at the cemetery office to choose her final resting place. As foreign and isolating as it felt, we might as well have landed on the moon. The office was drab and dreary with brown paneling on the walls, bare bones necessities, disorganized old desks with piles of papers and notebooks. It smelled of must and second hand smoke. We were greeted by a woman who asked what we needed. She turned to another woman in the back who looked very busy, didn't make eye contact with us, could clearly hear what we said, and waved us over to her desk. She got right to business and pulled out a map of burial plots and suggested a couple of spots by a tree.
      Baby Land was a designated area where babies could be buried for a smaller fee and be exhumed at any time to be relocated with his/her parents whenever their plots were chosen (which we weren't prepared to do that day). She would have been quite happy for us to have signed on the dotted line, paid the fees and been on our way; she clearly had more important things on her mind. We asked if we could see the area and plots available before making our decision. With her facial expressions, you would've thought we asked her to go ahead and book our flight to the moon. She grabbed her keys and picked us up in a black Ford Crown Victoria out front.  If it hadn't been for my husband to speak up and ask her to stop, she would've done a slow rolling drive by in front of Baby Land pointing out her recommended plots. Was this really happening? Did she think our daughter's final resting place was worth just a nod of our heads through a car window?
      We made our choice, signed on the dotted line and paid our fees. I hated everything about this burial plot buying experience. Everything. I despised the name of the place (with connotations similar to Michael Jackson's Neverland), the lady we put out with our time, the thought of burying our daughter in the cold, black ground where I saw no beauty, and the task ahead of picking the perfect headstone to represent all that Vivian was to us. We were drowning in the domino effects of the miserable dark finality of the death of our daughter and this experience just added to the awful.

    Fast forward a year later, after pursuing multiple artists to create the perfect representation of our daughter to be used on her small gravestone and failing, we made the decision to exhume her to be cremated. It was the best decision we made after finding a potter to create the perfect "full of life" urn for her ashes to be stored in. Finally there was peace and a part of her could always be tangibly with us.

Love. Grief. Grad school. Marriage.

Feeling grateful for... this man. This man has carried a load that many wouldn't (be able to). Cheering me on, rocking the role of Mr. Mom, lifting us up on the hard days, and sacrificing his own needs/wants for me to pursue a dream. I LOVE this picture... he volunteered to be with me on the climb, but he took on much more than we bargained for. The last 3 years has been a spiritual battle like no other and as he put it, "we're at the summit standing at the tree line".  John 10:10 has never been more evident in this last season... with our own sweet flesh and blood being taken. We're scratched, bruised, and broken but we are standing. I can say with confidence, not only would I not be standing but I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the love of God lived out through my husband. We have hope. It's a huge honor to have earned the advanced degree I have and with God's blessing He is taking us to a place that moves our souls, will allow us time to play, explore and connect. I. Am. Grateful.

Common phrases we say out of naivete

This past week I heard this phrase used a few times in passing.  Prior to 10-21-2015, I said it too.  Truth is, it's laced in naivete and won't be found in the bible.  I recognize it's always said with good intentions, but for those of us who have been 'given' more than we can handle, it's disturbing.  This is a good, quick read:

https://www.biblestudytools.com/blogs/inside-bst/5-more-verses-you-just-won-t-find-in-your-bible.html

Day of Love

Happy Valentine's Day!

A Soul Connection

This may be a bit of a soap box post... I was given a new perspective after our loss of Vivian and it seems like I'm denying her if I don't share some points that may potentially make a difference...

This weekend I had the honor and privilege to be a part of another birth, an amazing birth (I know, they're all amazing, but this one was a little more so).  In the middle of labor, the proud Grandma pulled out her phone to show us a video of her grandson (soon to be big brother) who was around 3yrs old.  In the video, he had his hands on his Mom's baby bump, smiling and instructing the baby to come out.  He told baby that he had toys for him/her to play with.  He then leaned his head on his Mom's belly with arms wrapping around her bump and said in a tender voice "I love you baby." 

This was precious.  This was joy dancing with pain for me.  Moments like these make me feel less alone and crazy.  It's that soul connection as a culture we ignore or are unaware of.  This little boy had a soul connection to his baby brother/sister.  He is incapable of thinking this connection into existence, just as we are as adults.  We can not think through it or out of it when a soul is taken from us earth side.  My husband and our two boys had a soul connection to our Vivian. 

I hear all too often the stories of older couples in their 80-90s who lost a baby/child decades earlier who will break into instant tears when they think of their loss.  It never goes away.  No matter how many kids they have, it is a loss that is not quantified or lessened because they have other living kids.  We don't love our subsequent kids less because they came later, that's ridiculous.  In the same way, fathers don't love their babies less than mothers just because they didn't physically grow them in a womb. 

Our souls know each other.

Almost to the Peak

So this post may have been inspired by listening to Brene Brown on my drive home from a 24hr call shift.  You really should pick up Braving the Wilderness.

My family and I know and feel how close we are to reaching the peak of the 'mountain'... grad school.  We carry the daily loss of our Vivian, adding much weight to our journey.  I told my boss when she hired me after leaving labor & delivery (for a much needed heart break), that I didn't know how this last leg of grad school would go for me.  I had no way to predict how I'd handle being with laboring women and catching their babies as a student nurse midwife.  I have yet to lose it, but I recognize that I'm not fully joyful and in the moment like I'd like to be.  There is pain mixed with their joy and I can't shake it.  It just is what it is.  I just read a post from my favorite blog 'Stillstandingmag.com' about living with trauma and the writer posted the definition and this is what she found:

trau·ma

ˈtroumə,ˈtrômə/

noun

noun: trauma; plural noun: traumata; plural noun: traumas

1.

a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.

"a personal trauma like the death of a child"

 

I share this because, though I'm thankful few 'get it', it's important to recognize that working through trauma is a long ass haul.  Pardon me for a minute, cause I could do a thousand bunny trails right here and picking one is difficult...  The picture above is my husband.  This was our unsuccessful attempt at climbing Sawteeth mountain in the Adirondacks of upper state NY.  Mind you, we did choose the most scenic, toughest trail to climb.  His pack was weighted down with more than what was needed and after climbing over steep boulders and inclines for hours, we made the decision to turn back.  It was tough coming to the realization that we weren't going to make it to the peak.  We were low on water with 2 young boys in tow and had no idea where the next water source would be.  A rather LARGE error in planning!  Add to the mix, exhaustion, sore feet and it was getting dark.  That was the hardest physical journey we'd ever been through, but it pales in comparison to the emotional/psychological journey we've been on.  My husband pointed out the other day that he has never had a time in his life that he has had to persevere and dig deeper than deep for stamina to finish a 'climb'.  We are carrying as light a load as we can... cutting out busyness, saying "no", not staying for both the 7th & 8th grade basketball games, limiting time with friends, driving old cars, not volunteering, eating out less and so on.  Add that the everyday stressors of life are still present and magnified; something only those with deep grief can understand. 

I'm hopeful when we've reached the grad school peak in May/June, we'll feel we have a win.  We need a win.  I pray my husband will have margin in his brain & days to think about & do the things he enjoys.  I pray my boys will have 2 less stressed parents to be around and laughter will be a greater part of our days.  I pray that I'll love serving and learning from women as a nurse midwife and can throw some pots again.  

For now, we're still climbing one boulder at a time with a weighted down pack we didn't ask or plan for.