Sunday, August 12, 2012

When your baby dies...

You know what happens when you baby dies... other than the fact that your heart breaks into a million tiny shards of glass.. you change.
The little things become somewhat impossible. Keeping the house clean, walking the dog, calling family and friends. Tasks that seem so easy become so hard.
Taking a shower seems like a mighty big task. Socializing, going out to dinner, watching a movie in public. Forget about it.
It is so much easier to hide, to be sad and not deal with the world outside. Keep the curtains drawn and the lights down low. Ignore the phone, watch useless television that provides you with no educational value whatsoever. Sleep, oh the sleep. Nothing quite like the deep sleep of the broken hearted.
Dream of another baby, dream of your baby being alive. Beg for their life in exchange for yours. Feel jealous of every little person who gets to walk along in innocence with no clue of how much you hurt. Or how much it hurts to lose a child.
Scream, yell, feel angry at every living thing. Curse God and fate and all the things that should have kept your baby alive, including stupid, incompetent doctors that should have known. Shouldn't they have known? Why didn't they know.
Blame yourself, eat the guilt each moment of every day. Wish for something different.
Live because you have no choice and life must go on. Live because others depend on you and you can't let them down. Live because it is all you can do.
Smile because it is easier than crying. Laugh because it doesn't taste as bad going down as tears. Hope because it is all you can do.
You change, life changes, but your baby stays the same. The little life you hold onto and want so badly stays the same. Frozen in time, forever missed, forever wanted and you can't have them back.
What a bitter, bitter pill to swallow.


  1. You change, but your baby stays the same. Oh, this is indeed the hardest part. That our babies stay the same.

  2. I always have people ask me "is this your first?" with my pregnancy and I answer no, then of course they always ask how old my first is, I answer "5 Months". They always give a funny look but I dont care.5 months forever.

    "Frozen in time, forever missed, forever wanted and you can't have them back.
    What a bitter, bitter pill to swallow." SO SO TRUE. xoxoxo

  3. I nodded through every part of this post... so true. So brutally unfair.

  4. "Taking a shower seems like a mighty big task. Socializing, going out to dinner, watching a movie in public. Forget about it."

    I wish that people could understand this face of grief. I wish that I could understand this face of grief. It's so hard to come into a life of sitting on the couch and staring at the wall, and not. really. able. to. do. more. it totally sucks.

    hoping that you and your new little one are thriving:)

  5. This post rings so true. I wish I could have shown this to the people surrounding me during my early moments of grief. I couldn't explain how I felt and they couldn't understand. Thank you for this. I wonder how you're navigating things with your rainbow baby. It's a really strange place to be - a balance between bliss and heartache. I'm 6 weeks in with Serena and so happy yet often, so sad.

    I've been thinking of you and hope that you are enjoying sweet moments with your new little Alex and missing Braedon with you.

  6. Paula,
    I just stumbled across your blog a couple of days ago. My daughter had stillborn baby boy, Jordan Eric, on the 7th September 2012. He was 39 weeks old and until the moment when he stopped moving there was no indication that anything was wrong... or would go wrong. A healthy baby and a healthy mother, his heart just stopped beating at a time that he could have been born, my daughter was having contractions but not regular enough. The devasation and unbelief that he died while we were all so excited for his birth and his parents and big sister (2 years old) loved him already so much. Two days later while waiting for his induced birth my daughter and son-in-law were arranging his funeral :-( ... Four months on, life moves on and having a healthy energetic two year old to look after, has helped my daughter a lot, but she still has fragile moments and takes some time for herself, a lot of sleep and then carries on.... two steps forward and one step back.. this is a bumpy road with curves and bumps in the road. My husband and I are working on websites where we want to share interesting links and blogs, medical information and whatever else we come across and hope that we can help with awareness and maybe get answers. We have 2 sites (still being worked on) and (in Dutch... I live in Amsterdam). I also have a Facebook group once upon a time... where I have been placing links and blogs and Winnie de Pooh quotes (my advisor :-) ). I have been reading blogs to try and find similar stories, find answers if there are any and I guess to help with healing. Every mother has to deal with grief in their own way and their own time, but I want to be the advocate of my daughter and do the things that for her are too difficult to face. She is not a blogger and I think she is proud of the fact that we are doing this for her and in the name of her son.
    Above all I want to say how sorry I am for your family's loss and to thank you for sharing your thoughts and emotions.... I have so much respect and admiration for the strength of young parents. Sending virtual hugs to you .... Pamela (aka as Super Nana).