The club nobody wants to belong to…
I couldn’t sleep last night.
The kids all came home from school with tales of a friend, whose baby brother had died,last week, at two months, from SIDS. They didn’t know when she would be back at school but they did know how strange it would be for her.
They all came to me seperately with questions and memories of when we had our own dead baby.
They told me how weird it was to go back, how everyone treated them like they were the new kids in school, all over again.
They wondered what they might say to their friend to help to make things better for her, because not alot that was said to them gave them any comfort.
They said it was worse for the girl, who had had two whole months to get to know her baby brother, whereas they had only had five days. They couldn’t imagine, they said. How bad it was.
Last night, my heart was heavy for that mum, of the baby, who died from SIDS, at two months of age because it is awful and it is unfair and it is a heavy burden to carry, when you bury your dead baby. I wondered if there was anything I could do, having been there a whole four years ago and realised there was nothing.
I can make food.
Food was the one thing that David and I could not do when we got home and we were lucky that people cooked for us and kept the kids with meals for about a month because I had forgotten how to make a cheese sandwich, in those first few weeks.
So, I will cook but it won’t help the way I really want to help.
I can give her books and support groups.
I read everything I could in those first few months. Anything about dead babies and how to cope. I soaked it up, trying to imagine the people who had written about their time, trying to see into their souls and if they ever really did recover.
I trawled the forums and support sites and spoke to anyone who would listen. Anyone who could identify with being part of the dead baby club was my friend. I could be real.
So, I will give her my books and a list of all the groups that helped me but it still won’t be what this mum needs.
What she needs is her baby back. What she needs is to take back time and stop history.
I can send a card and say I am sorry. I know all the things to say and not to say because four years ago I had my own dead baby and I was hearing all the same things.
It won’t help though. None of it will.
It’s not that she won’t appreciate it, not that she won’t hear the words. In four years time, she will be thankful that people reached out but not now.
Nothing will help her now.
Her heart will be shattered and even though she has other children, it will be so hard for her to get up every day. It will be hard for her to carry on and bring normality to the others. It will be hard to look at them without fear of losing them too, creeping into her existence.
Her mind will be filled with what if’s and why’s and going over the day that she walked into her baby’s room and found him not breathing. She will rummage through all her photos and find keepsakes that still have his scent and she will cry. Not just cry, she will weep, that sodden, deep, soulful mourning that only a mother, who has a dead baby, can. It will come from the very depths of her being, so deep, in fact that she will wonder, in later years, who that person was and where those heavy guilt laden sobs came from.
She will feel selfish and greedy when she can’t let her other children hold or have his favourite things, things that she will hold close to her because that is all she has now. Things. Memories of a much wanted baby boy.
She will learn who she can rely on, talk to, be open and honest with and who she will need to put her happy mask on for. Because people can only pretend to want to hear about a dead baby for so long. She will not be allowed to grieve forever in open society. This is a lesson she will learn quickly.
She will crave normality when there is nothing normal about her life at all. She will wish to be the woman she was before…before her baby died.
This morning I can’t seem to move her from my head. This Mum, who is now part of the worst club on earth and my heart is heavy because I know; grief lasts forever.
“I can be real…” That one little line, just gripped my heart, Tiff. Not only can you do that, but you can help lend her the courage to be real too. It is something you do so beautifully, even though I know it costs you dearly.
My heart grieves for you both… for this young mother with her newly shattered heart, and for you as you re-live the pain once more, through her. And for your children as they struggle through the definition of loss yet again. You are an amazing family and if YOU need anything personally, Tiff… just say the word, OK?
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
~Kahlil Gibran
I am crying for the both of you. I think Childlife said everything I thought and then was unable to articulate.
Oh, Tiff. You have such strength. You are amazing. That you could even THINK about sharing that strength with someone who has found herself in the same tragic circumstances you experienced is just extraordinary. What an act of courage and kindness. You are amazing.
This was too painful to try to be clever.
I love Gibran myself, so……
Ditto the first comment.
I know we all must die, but it will never seem right to have our children die first, never.
It just rankles, and won’t be salved.
God bless everyone who has to go through that, and I’ll pray earnestly for all……
So very true (hugs ) my dear friend - beautifully written. Grief is a never ending journey.
I know being a part of this club is something we would never wish on anyone. Our lives are shattered beyond measure when we lose a child. My heart goes out to her tonight.
I think you will be her life line. I am so sorry for the loss of her little boy.
*sighs deeply* I don’t have any words.. Childlife has said it well.
kim xxx
Childlife said it perfectly.
((hugs))
So sad
I can’t even begin to imagine how she must be feeling… or you.
I’m so sorry for her loss, I just don’t know what to say.
((hugs)) xx
Thank you for changing the name of this post.
Yes, Tiff…being real with her is probably the greatest gift you can give her. It’s a club no mother wants to belong to, and no mother should…but as two who do, perhaps you can be real and honest with each other. And through that find someone else that can truly feel as you do, and mourn as you do.
I wish her family the best.
And I wish you the strength to share with this mother.
This is too scary for me to read in full.
Childlife has said it best…
God speed to her and her family. And for you, a big old New England bear hug.
I have a close friend whose 14 day old son died of SIDS while she dozed off with him in her arms. It was three years ago and I still can’t wrap my brain around the horror.
I knew at the time that nothing I said could make it “better” so I just kept emailing and calling to say that I loved her and I was thinking of her.
I’m so sorry for that mom. She’s in my heart today too.
it’s not fair.
hugs.
I don’t know what else to say.
It’s SO not fair
I’m in tears here for both of you, I can imagine your feelings are very raw today.
I can understand the food thing though, that was one thing I couldn’t do when my baby was in NICU, I was just too numb too cope with that too.
Dawn sent me by.
I lost my son, Matthew, to SIDS at three and a half months in September of 2003. i am going on 4 and a half years and sometimes I wonder if I have even made any progress.
So much of what you said is accurate. We may all be very different in our grief, but some things about it are universal.
I found a brand new site that a few of my blogging friends formed. It’s just getting started, but if you would ever care to swing by, you would be more than welcome.
http://glowinthewoods.com
I belong to this club, almost 10 yrs now. : ( I feel for her, but as you know, nothing helps. Your arms are empty and your heart is shattered. The pieces never go back together the same.
This falls under the category “this f***ing sucks”. No other words can describe it. I will pray for the family.
heartbreaking. Makes me want to hold my kids that little bit tighter and be so so so thankful for them.
Such a beautifully written post and it moved me to tears. I am sorry that this happened and sorry that such a club exists. It is too sad.
I don’t belong to this club, but I can understand the grief, having lost a much-loved sister-in-law, her husband and son all in the one car crash many years ago. I still cry whenever I see a tiny white coffin on TV. My niece was also in the car but survived. The accident wasn’t discovered for several hours during which the poor girl had to listen to her family crying and dying around her as they all hung upside down in the overturned car. She had many, many years of therapy to cope with it all.
This is a club that I really wish I didnt belong to. That was so beautifully written. You are right about the appreciation after so many years. I am coming up to 4yrs in July and its nice when someone still remembers. Although this year will be bitter sweet as our 5th child is also due around that time.