Listen to Your Mother

LTYM was an amazing experience. Words cannot describe how validating and thrilling it was to stand before a sold out audience of 700 people and share my story of mothering both Zoe and Nora! If you are interested, I have shared what I read below. 

Thank you to Listen to Your Mother and the producers for believing that the bereaved mother's story needs to be included and heard in the quilt of motherhood story telling. 

Invisible Motherhood

“He had forgotten,” I thought as I opened the Mother’s Day present at brunch.  Inside was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace on a slender silver chain. Gently running my fingertips over the smooth stone, I turned to my husband, said thank you and asked, “Why a blue sapphire?”

Proud of his purchase he replied, “It’s Zoe’s birthstone.”

Looking at our eight week-old baby girl sleeping soundly snuggled in her car seat next to me, a sad obliged smirk quickly came and went upon my face. Tears formed in my eyes but I held them back as I thought, “Where is Nora’s birthstone on this necklace? Why is her name missing from this card? Have you forgotten about our daughter that died just 15 months ago?”

Instead of yelling these words of discontent across the table at my loving husband, who was so pleased with his procurement of what he assumed was a thoughtful gift, I instead simply smiled and said, “I love it! Can you help me put it on?”

And I did love it. I mean I do. The keepsake is a reminder that I birthed yet another beautiful baby girl into this world and I should have a necklace of just hers to cherish as I do her older sister.

But at the same time I hated it.

I hated that Nora was not somehow represented on that chain. I hated that there was only a newborn sitting to my right at this table and a toddler missing from my left.  I hated being an invisible mother to one daughter with the world only noticing and acknowledging my motherhood to the other.  I hated the inflexible and confusing truth that without Nora being stillborn there would be no baby Zoe here in my arms. I hated having to live daily on this bridge between being a bereaved mom and a mother to a living child.  I hated the fact that I even say phrases like “living child.”  I mean who says that?  Most moms just get to say, “Hi.  My name is so-and-so and I’m a mom to three beautiful children.” But there is another thing I hate, that seemingly simple question so many ask innocently when you first meet, “How many children do you have?” has now become a challenging conundrum to answer. “Ugh, one, I mean two.  Do dead children count?”

 

I hated all of it, but what I hated most was the fact that he forgot to put her name in the card just like my parents also forgot to put Nora’s name in the card that they sent the day before, “Happy Mother’s Day honey! We are so proud of you for being Zoe’s mom,” it read. 

I wanted to scream, “But I’m not just Zoe’s mom; I’m Nora’s mom too!”

It seemed as though another fear of mine was coming true.  She had been forgotten, replaced. Overshadowed by the living, breathing child that came after her.  Not even those closest to me, that had lost her too, seemed as if they wanted to remember her. My heart was shattered.  I thought that somehow this thing called grief would get easier.  I guess some days are, but those days ill prepare you for and make you foolishly think that all days will be better. Boy was I wrong. Moments like this one just seem to add salt to a wound that will never heal, no matter how many F-ing times you try to bandage it.

But if I’m being honest, my greatest fear was that I would forget her too. That somehow among raising Zoe, memories of Nora would fade away along with my love for her.  You see it’s getting harder for me to remember her now.  The demands of raising a living child take away from the time there is to mourn the dead one. Dinners need to be made, chores need to be done, diapers need to be changed, and so the act of living must go on. With so much to do, it’s easy to forget her, not intentionally, but slowly, over time, as she slips silently into the background of life.

So how am I supposed to parent a child I cannot hold?

My answer?  I write her name on the glass shower door every morning.  As the steam rises and the water droplets form into fog on the glass entrance, I ritually carve the letters of her name out of the dew upon the door. Four letters, short and sweet, like her life was, appear every morning on the window pane because I place them there. While the water from the shower head beads off my back I decorate her name on the glass with hearts and sometimes retrace the lettering over and over again. Taking a moment to remember her, if only for a minute so that I can be with her once again.

The other morning as I stepped out of the shower and was dressing for the day’s events my husband, holding Zoe, turned to me and asked, “Can you wear Nora’s necklace today too?”

“Sure honey, but why?” 

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I just like it when you wear both.”

I smiled. He hadn’t forgotten her, and neither will I.

Just remember to always…..

You are one.

You are one.

I never thought this day would come.

Your life from the very beginning has been over shadowed by death.

Not yours, but by your sister’s.

You, my beautiful life filled Zoe, with sweet tooth filled smiles and wrinkled nose giggles, were born out of the shadows of darkness and brought me into the light, like a lotus flower reaching for the sun through the black mud.

You. Zoe. I have feared for your life since before you were even conceived. From the day your sister died I was afraid you would too.

I also worried that you would be a replacement.  A child whose identity would be tainted by loss and forever live in the shadow of the older sibling never to be.

Oh but my sweet, sweet jovial Zoe!  I know now that this was my story and no longer has to be yours.  You may have been the life that sprouted from death but my dear darling daughter that does not define you.

You adoring daughter, you! You are ZOE! Not your sister.  Not Nora.  Not a replacement and not a shadowed life lived tainted by loss. 

No.  You are LIFE, not the result of a death that happened before. 

There is so much to you. 

You are the girl who laughs through her teeth when her daddy chases her around the furniture in the living room. 

You are the girl who smiles at me with a crinkled nose and bright wide hazel eyes when I tickle your toes.

You are the girl that gives hugs and kisses to those she knows and stares with a watchful eye at strangers who have not made their loved deserved.

You are the girl who steals socks from her doggy George and babbles with mama and dada when you walk across the kitchen floor with knobby knees and a stick waddle.

You are the girl who put back together the pieces of my heart when they were broken, shattered, and thrown widely across the hard wood floor of life and scattered beyond repair.  

You Zoe girl!  You are the girl who brought colors back to life again.  Who made the days less dull and the nights full of laughter instead of tears.  You Zoe girl!  You are the girl who made hugs feel fuller and kisses seem sweeter and my life beautiful again.

You Zoe girl!  You! You are the girl who brought me out of the depths of darkness and back to life.

You. Zoe.  You are life.  You are you and only you.

And today…

You are one.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl! 

Love Always & Forever,

Mom

Will She be Forgotten?

I'm writing over at Still Standing today about my fear that Nora will be forgotten and overshadowed by her little sister Zoe.  Nick edited this post for me last night and ended up in tears.  (I love that man so much!)  The post is about him mostly and my parents (I love them lots too) and when I asked Nick why he was crying he said, "Because I feel the same way too."  It was another beautiful grief moment we both shared.

Read all about the tears that Nick and I shed over this article and moment in time here. 

P.S. Mom and Dad, I might have been upset by what I describe in this post but that was only a moment in time.  I'm actually choked up as I write this realizing I have such supportive parents that have taught me it's okay to express my feelings and that you accept that I do so in such a public way.  I only hope I can give Zoe the same gift of freedom to share her voice as you have given to me.

photo credit

Parenting A Rainbow Part 3 - Holding Zoe, Hoping for Nora

Here is my last article in the three part series of Parenting A Rainbow for Reconceiving Loss.  It was a hard one to write but there is a lot of truth in it.  You can read the article by clicking here.

Pregnancy Anxiety Rolls Over Into Parenting

The second article in my three part series on parenting a rainbow as featured on Reconceiving Loss.  It's about how the anxiety from the pregnancy decided to roll right into parenting Zoe.  Check it out here.

Parenting a Rainbow Series

I was fortunate to be asked to capture the first weeks of bringing home Zoe in a essay series called Parenting a Rainbow.  The first essay is about a grief stricken, love filled, moment that occurred a week after we brought Zoe home. You can read my first essay, A Deepening of Grief and the ones to follow on Reconceiving Loss by clicking here.

Honoring Nora with a Tree Planting

Seventeen months ago our first child Nora died while in the womb, to be born still at 40 weeks gestation.  Three weeks later we went to a comforting place for the bereaved parent, Faith's Lodge where we met other parents who had lost a child during pregnancy or in the months soon after birth.  It was a wonderfully healing experience and the relationships we created there are still with us today.

Upon returning home from the bereaved parent's retreat we received in the mail a letter from Project 52 stating that we were nominated for a tree to be planted in Nora's memory.  Project 52 is a non-profit that creates living memorials for children that have died by donating and planting trees in the child's name to the child's family.  The project was started by a bereaved father, Dustin Blythe, along with two others after Dustin's son, Treye, was murdered at age 18 while trying to stop a friend from fighting at a house party.  Treye's story is so heartbreaking and tragic, but his father and friends have found a way to help others in their grief and in doing so have brought another little bit of healing into our lives today.

Receiving the tree and planting it in Nora's name today has been an amazing gift to receive and we are so grateful to our friends and fellow bereaved mama and papa we met at the Faith's Lodge for thinking to nominate us and our sweet daughter Nora.  It was such as act of love and compassion and the chain of love that grows from the griever helping the griever is extremely healing.  This reminds me that the majority of my most healing moments come from the work done by other bereaved parents or the company and love that I find in the presence of other grieving parents who unfortunately understand the pain but choose to use their darkest moments to create acts of love.

Having a living tree growing in our backyard that we planted with love and that we will be able to nurture over time is a way we can keep Nora to close to our hearts.  The planting of  this beautiful cherry tree for Nora is just another step towards mending a wound that will never fully heal, but maybe us and others helping us dress the wounds will assist us in living a life full of hope and love.