SharingSharing March/April 2016March/April 2016

touchingtouchingtouching l ivesl ivesl ives………healing healing healing heartsheartshearts………giving giving giving hopehopehope.........

Surviving, Loving and

Thriving in the Everyday We hope this magazine brings you comfort

and hope for the future.

Dear Friends,

It is hard to believe, but we are actually approaching Spring. Depending on where

you spent your winter, you may have differing thoughts about that revelation.

Some of you have been battling cold and record snow, but for us at the National

Share Office, it has been mild and uneventful overall.

That is, only where the weather is concerned! Here in our office, we have been

experiencing record levels of activity! In January we welcomed two new staff

members, Lynne Wuelling and Shannon Sebastian. Lynne joined Share as our

Administrative Assistant and Shannon as our Development and Events Assistant.

Both of them have jumped right in and are eagerly learning all that is Share. We

are grateful to have both of them as a part of our team!

As we strive to serve our mission of caring for families who have suffered the loss

of a baby, we understand that this loss is universal and knows no boundaries. It is

with this in mind that we, with selfless help of two wonderful Share moms, are

launching the Share Espanõl Esperanza Facebook support page. Valeria

Bernardo and Silvia Bowman, two Share parent volunteers, have graciously

offered share their gift of language and time, and will be working with us to offer

compassionate support and better resources to Spanish speaking families. I have

learned that Esperanza means “hope”. It is our goal to use this group as a way we

can offer support and hope to those who may not have had the help they needed

after their loss due to language barriers or lack of resources.

Another part of our mission is to educate those who care for bereaved families.

Our calendar is filling up with opportunities to educate caregivers both in our

home state of Missouri as well as around the country, including taking our

Sharing and Caring Perinatal Bereavement training to Grapevine, Texas in May.

We are always grateful for the opportunity to share our message, skills and

experiences preparing many others to offer hope and healing in their

communities.

In this issue we are addressing how we survive, live and thrive in everyday life

after a loss. In my mind, these words seem to almost mark points on a

continuum of our journey. The goal is really just surviving in those devastating

first moments, days, and weeks after your precious child has died. Barely putting

one foot in front of the other and literally approaching each day, merely surviving.

Then comes the challenge to learn to live differently month to month, year to year

and seeking ways to honor your child in your family, your life, and always in your

heart. Eventually realizing in doing so, you can once again thrive, perhaps in very

new and different ways, sharing the love in your heart with others.

It is our joy at Share to witness that progression on the path of hope and healing.

Please soak in the stories and wisdom gathered here, shared by others who have

traveled this journey. We are here for all of those points along the way, walking

alongside you in whatever way you need as you strive to thrive once again.

Blessings to you and your family,

Behind the Scenes...

Rose Carlson

Program Director

Jennifer Stachula

Chapter Coordinator

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Debbie Cochran, RN

Executive Director

Miranda Coker

Support Group

Facilitator

Patti Budnik

Bereavement Care

Manager

Jaclyn Nikodym

Development & PR

Associate

Sarah Lawrenz

Development

Director

Debbie Cochran, RN

Vicki Kiefer

Accounting Manager

Lynne Wuelling

Administrative

Assistant

Shannon Sebastian

Development and

Event Assistant

In Every Issue... Dear Friends……………………….…2

Thank You for Your Gifts…….….6

Page…..Title

4………….Going Back to Work After a Loss 5………….International Perinatal Bereavement Conference 9……..…..Growing Into Hope

9….….…..Smell the Roses, They’re Always There 10………Sharing & Caring Bereavement Training

10……... Book Review: You Are the Mother of All Mothers 10……...Reflections on Grief, Healing and Hope 12….…....Learning to Cope

13…….....Random Act of Kindness: You’ve Been PAIGEd

14…….....Smoke Break 15……..….Chapter Spotlight: Creating a Tangible Work of Art & Healing 15……..….Share your Knowledge Trivia Night 16.……....The Room we Made for Owen

18.……....How to Care For a Friend (and Family) After Miscarriage or Stillbirth

20.……….To Each Her Own

21………...One Sweet Day

22……......Angel of Hope 22……......Facebook Discussion 24….……. Is This Your First?

25….…….. Notes of Hope

28….…….. Angel Ball

Contents

Sharing is the official newsletter of Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. © 1997

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Reflections on Grief, Healing, and Hope By: Amy Ray

Sharing & Caring Perinatal Bereavement Training

The National Share Office has remaining spots available for the upcoming Sharing & Caring: Perinatal Bereavement Training on March 8, 9 & 10, 2016 in St. Peters, MO.

This training provides individuals with the tools needed to work with families who have experienced the heartbreaking death of a baby through early pregnancy loss, stillbirth, or within the first few months of life. The sessions explore pertinent topics such as the rights of parents, understanding the grief

process, how to run a support group effectively, and how to gain the support of hospital staff.

This workshop is open to anyone who wants to start their own Share Chapter, chaplains, social workers, counselors, genetic counselors, doulas, midwives, nurses, and parent advocates and other community caregivers. This workshop has been approved by the Missouri Nurses Association and the National Association of Social Workers (NASW) to grant 17.75 contact hours to those who attend.

Costs $500; 2 or more registrants: $400 each

Fees include all workshop materials, snacks, beverages, and lunch on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Workshop Location Spencer Road Community Commons 427 Spencer Road, St. Peters, MO 63376

For more information, please visit http://nationalshare.org/act/attend-training/sharing-caring/

Book Review: You Are the Mother of All Mothers By: Angela Miller

Amy is a bereaved mom and member of the Baylor Grapevine Share support group in Grapevine, Texas. She shared these words with fellow Share families at the group’s walk and memorial service in November, 2015. We are so grateful that Amy has generously

offered to share her reflection on grief and message of encouragement with our larger Share community.

My name is Amy, and I want to tell you about our son, Owen Matthew. I am not any sort of expert, or someone who

knows any answers….I am one of you, a parent who has lost a child.

After several years of trying to conceive, my husband and I were thrilled to learn that we were expecting twin boys. From the beginning, our son

This book was reviewed by Share parent, Meghan Graves. I was surprised by how aggressively tender her voice is, and for me at least, that is the tone that reached me. A lot of people have said in one way or another to me that I shouldn't feel guilty, etc., but I've always discarded that, believing my own feelings of 'could/would/should have.' Coming from her, and in each page turn, I let it sink in...it is not only not my fault, it is well known to her and to everyone else on this journey that it takes superhuman strength to let our babies go and live every minute thereafter. It was empowering in that way. So much of the experience—the lack of control, the failure of the safe place my body should have naturally been able to provide, all of that, made me feel weak,

and 'less than' on top of my grief over the loss of Arthur and Oliver. This book spoke to that for me, and it gave me a bit more of that power and love for myself back. I also love that she acknowledges that we are still parenting our babies. I'm sure most who haven't been there would think that sounds completely ridiculous, but it is so true. And how much courage does it take to parent a child you can't hold in your arms? Again, powerful! And finally, I love that it ties us together as a strong, loving and supportive community, even if we don't know each other. The value of this book is that I can pick it up anytime day or night, whenever I'm feeling lonely or sad, and somebody who totally gets it is telling me exactly what I need to hear in that moment. I Loved it!!

To purchase this beautiful book, please visit Share’s online catalog. https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/share/giftstore.jsp

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Reflections on Grieving, Healing and Hope (continued)

Owen was always sweetly curled up, often had his hands up by his face, and was always the smaller of the two. I bonded with him right away in a special way, as the “cuddly” one.

At 24 weeks, I went in for a routine appointment and was shocked to learn I had been in preterm labor, and needed to be put on hospital bedrest immediately. What I thought had been normal growing pains were really contractions which left my cervix dangerously shortened. I was admitted to the hospital and laid in the same bed for the next 11 weeks. Each day was a huge milestone, and week by week, we watched both boys continue to grow and do well. Once I reached 35 weeks, they felt it was safe for me to go home to continue bed rest.

Throughout the entire pregnancy, I had felt Owen move less than his brother, Patrick, so I didn’t find it too strange that I wasn’t feeling him move much when we returned home. When I went in for my follow up appointment, the doctor said everything looked okay for both boys and we were sent back home; but over the weekend, I began to question Owen’s movement more and more. I distinctly remember watching an old rerun of Saved by the Bell, lying on the couch waiting for Owen to move. It was a huge relief when I did finally feel that little kick. However, when I went back the following Monday, I heard the doctor say those awful words we all wish we never heard: “I’m so sorry, but there’s no heartbeat.”

The next few hours were full of so many emotions, with frantic phone calls to family members, being rushed to surgery for a C-section, delivering a healthy baby, Patrick, and then finally delivering Owen…and hearing that overwhelming silence. I longed for the doctor to be wrong, and to hear Owen cry, but the only sounds I heard were the routine noises of the operating room.

Eventually, finally, I had Owen in my arms…my sweet, cuddly son. Our families met him, we all held him, loved on him, and took pictures of him

that I will cherish forever. Planning and attending his funeral was something I never imagined I would go through as a mother. But Owen’s burial site is now a special and peaceful place for us to visit. We have found ways to remember him throughout the year, have started new traditions in his honor and have pledged to continue his legacy the rest of our lives.

I read an article recently by Angela Miller, titled “7 Things I’ve Learned Since the Loss of My Child,” and I feel like I could relate to all of them in the year and a half since Owen died. I’d like to share with you the one part I remember the most, which is about grief. But before I get to that, I want to share the actual definition of grief:

Grief is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something that has died, to which a bond or affection has been formed.

I love this definition because it states so clearly why we grieve our babies so much, no matter how long we had with them. To which a bond or affection has formed…I think for both mothers and fathers, but particularly mothers early on in pregnancy, there is an instant bond with your baby. The first positive pregnancy test you take, or the first time you hear the tiny heartbeat, it stirs your maternal instinct to protect the life inside of you. A love so deep is formed, and hopes and dreams begin to develop. This bond and affection give you every right in the world to grieve an early pregnancy loss.

I particularly wanted to share that because my husband and I also suffered an early miscarriage this past April, exactly one year after Owen’s funeral. Some of you have been through this as well, and I am here to say that your grief is no less than anybody else’s. Each grief experience is unique and different, and these are precious lives that changed us and will always be remembered.

Going back to what I appreciated most in the article on grief: it simply said

that grief has no timeline. I’ve been coming to understand this over the past year and half. You may have heard about the stages of grief, or seen a picture of the typical bell curve that grief should follow. I do think we all feel the stages of grief at one point or another, but not in a predictable way. Maybe you go from anger to acceptance and you think you’re doing great, and then all of a sudden you’re angry again. You might feel as though you’ve taken a step backwards or you’re feeling things that you shouldn’t be feeling anymore. What I liked about the article was that it told me that I didn’t have to feel that way. It reminded me that grief truly has no set stages, and there is no set timeline I can expect my grief to follow. It reminded me that it’s okay for me to forever have good days and bad days and to not put any pressure on myself to be doing better in a certain timeframe. It said that because our love for our child is so strong, our grief is going to be strong, too. I once read that grief is love’s unwillingness to let go. Our love for these babies will last a lifetime, and therefore, so will our grief.

It may sound disheartening to think that we will be grieving for a lifetime, but remember that, by the definition noted above, grief is a multifaceted response. Grieving doesn’t always mean feeling the sadness, tears, anger, or guilt. It’s my hope that our grief can somehow enrich our lives. We have been given the opportunity to parent these babies in a way no one else can experience. We can carry on their legacies here on earth and their lives can still impact the lives of so many others. We’ve already seen this happen so many times because of Owen, and as his parents, it is truly a special and unique blessing.

This quote from an unknown author seems to truly sum up what have come to understand:

“Grief never ends, but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love.”

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Eventually, many grieving parents find themselves in the difficult position of going back to work after some time off. Having spent the weeks that should have been maternity or paternity leave coping with the sorrow of not holding our baby in our arms, we have to maneuver our way back into a weak imitation of our former selves, at least sufficiently enough to make it through a day of work.

Here is a list of suggestions for making that process a little easier. Obviously, every workplace is different, and specific advice would vary hugely depending on what kind of work you do, but I hope you find something helpful here.

1. Ask for what you need. In a perfect world, everyone would have a boss and coworkers who were compassionate, intuitive, and understanding. Unfortunately, that's not always the case. You may need to draft a letter explaining what happened so that your story gets told on your own terms.

Even if everyone has already been informed, you may want to go ahead and e-mail some of your coworkers before you return. People will be concerned and most likely they won't know what to do, so let them know what would be most helpful for you. Keep in mind, the go-to reaction is probably avoidance because people don't want to upset you, so you might want to say something like, "Although my grief is very intense, I find it helpful and healing to talk about my baby. Please don't be afraid to ask about him/her." Alternatively, if you don't want to discuss your child at work, you might say, "I appreciate your sympathy and concern, and I thank you for respecting my family's privacy at this time."

2. Start slow, if you can. If you can go back to work part-time

at first, do it. Start back on a Wednesday or Thursday so you don't have to face a full week. I was lucky to go back very part-time at first, just three days a week for a few months. While some parents welcome work as a distraction, the process of grief is so exhausting that full-time work can feel almost impossible for a while. Talk to your boss about shortening your days and leaving early for doctor appointments. Things that qualify as a "doctor's appointment" when you are grieving: therapy, massage, acupuncture, restorative yoga classes, and actual doctor appointments--my therapist or OB would have written me a note for any of those, had my workplace required it.

3. Take a memento with you. I wore a bracelet with my daughter’s name on it every single day. No one ever asked me about it, but I knew it was there. If you have your own desk area, you can display a photo of your child, or a special print that represents him or her. You can carry photos in your bag and just share them with people when you feel comfortable. One mama I know carried her baby's tiny hat in her pocket as a secret link to him. Similarly, wearing a personalized necklace that you can tuck inside your shirt or a ring with an engraving on the inside is a way of keeping your baby close to your heart in a private way (Etsy has tons of options at every price point).

4. Practice your speech, but expect the unexpected. Be prepared to bump into someone who knew you were pregnant but doesn't know what happened. Prepare in advance what you will say to make that encounter slightly less stressful for you. Don't feel like you have to apologize for sharing your tragedy, and don't feel like you have to make it sound like you're doing just fine now.

If asked about my pregnancy, I would say, "Actually, we lost the baby just before she was due." Depending on the person and the conversation, I might elaborate on that and share Eliza’s name, but often that sentence was all I could choke out without dissolving into tears. Usually that person would say, "Oh, I'm so sorry." Then I would nod and say, "Thanks. It's been really hard." And then I’d change the subject (or excuse myself to run to the bathroom and cry.)

Keep in mind that no matter how thoroughly you prepare, something will catch you off guard. Someone will say something unintentionally hurtful. Someone will gleefully announce a pregnancy, and their good news will feel like a kick in the teeth. These things happen. Expect they are going to happen, and know that you'll make it through.

5. Remember, it's okay to cry. It's great if you have an office where you can close the door for privacy. Hopefully there's at least a conveniently located restroom where you can go when you can't hold back tears, but it's completely okay for you to cry--even if people can see you. You are a bereaved parent whose baby has just died. No one should expect you not to be upset. Be gentle with yourself. I cried in front of my boss (twice), various co-workers, and I almost cried in front of a well-meaning student. It happens. We are all human. Every tear you cry now is one less tear you'll have to cry tomorrow.

6. Drink hot beverages. I carried a hot drink with me everywhere. The warm liquid helped to relax my throat when it was choking up with sobs, but it also gave me something to look at and something to do with my hands.

7. Bribe yourself. Going back to work is HARD. Promise yourself something small to

Going Back to Work After a Loss By: Brooke Taylor Duckworth, mom to Eliza, stillborn December, 2010

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look forward to. Buy yourself chocolate--the really good stuff. Keep it in your desk drawer. Treat yourself to a soft sweater that can keep you warm in winter or keep off the chill of air conditioning. Wrap up in a new scarf and let it feel like a layer of protection. Promise yourself that when you get home, you'll watch another episode of Friday Night Lights on Netflix(Coach Taylor won't let you down, although there is a pregnancy storyline one season). Subscribe to a new podcast. Pick up take out Chinese food after work. Buy a pint of gelato. Get yourself a new pair of running shoes. Watch kittens on YouTube. Give yourself a little reward for making it through the day.

8. Phone a friend and check in with online support groups. It's always helpful if you can check in with another loss parent—a “grief buddy” of sorts. This person doesn't have to be on the same timeline as you, although that worked wonderfully for me. But whether it's your best friend from childhood, your mom, your spouse, or another parent who has lost a child, put that number in your

phone and text them whenever you need moral support. Create a thread at Glow in the Woods and check in with people there. E-mail people who write blogs you connect to, or who have stories like yours posted on Faces of Loss. It's always nice to have someone say, "I'm sorry" but it is enormously helpful to hear someone say, "Me, too."

9. Remember that it's normal to feel like work doesn't matter. It's hard to care about anything at all when the center of your world just died. Focus on your priorities at work, and don't worry too much about not being invested in what you're doing. I personally found that eventually teaching came to feel like a bit of a respite from grief, and it was helpful for me to feel competent at something again. I ended up starting a new teaching job nine months after Eliza died, and it was a great move for me (though I still cried in my office every day). Other people discover that they are eventually ready for a new job and a fresh start, or a complete career change that allows them to pursue a different kind of

work they find meaningful. Give yourself plenty of time.

10. Be gentle with yourself. Cut yourself some slack. The goals of your first week back at work are simply survival and self-preservation. Everything else can come later. If you get caught up in a project at work and don't think about your baby for several minutes at a time, don't feel guilty about that. At the same time, if you can't focus on anything because you just keep thinking about your baby, that’s completely understandable. Work will get easier with time, or it will become clear that you are ready to make a significant change. Keep breathing and just take it one day at a time. You’re not alone in this.

Going Back to Work After a Loss (continued)

International Perinatal Bereavement Conference The 20th Biennial International Bereavement Conference is coming to sunny Phoenix, AZ! Please join us this September 28th – October 1, 2016 for an exceptional opportunity to learn, enhance your skills in your field and connect with others who work with and care for bereaved families.

This conference will appeal to any professional who provides care to families experiencing a perinatal death or who engages in research in the field, including obstetricians, maternal fetal medicine physicians, neonatologists, palliative care physicians, advanced practice nurses, midwives, physician assistants, nurses, social workers, genetic counselors, ultrasonographers, chaplains, funeral directors, child life specialists, lactation consultants, psychologists, childbirth educators, policy makers, program administrators, researchers, professors, and parent advocates, among many others. In addition,

bereaved parents participate in the conference as those who work in advocacy, lay support and who may hold a dual role as both patient and researcher or practitioner.

For more information, please go to www.perinatalbereavementconference.org.

For additional details, follow on Twitter (@PLIDAnetworking), or on Facebook.

Thank You for Your Gifts!

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In Memory of… Lucas, Antonin and Alexander Amoroso We love our boys forever! By: Zorayda Amoroso Starling Blaze Amos Sophie & Brian, A mother and father's love cannot be measured in increments of time. An entire lifetime of love can be squeezed into a few brief miraculous moments when necessary. Thinking of you in your time of loss. Sincerely, The team at Williams-Sonoma, David, Bob, Stacie, Tina & Rebecca Madeline Antonio By: Mary Ellen & John Antonio Kara Elizabeth Auffarth By: Jean & Ed Auffarth Baby Baird By: Sarah Baird Rachael Ann Begley By: Susan & Kevin Begley By: Jennifer Begley Sydney Elizabeth Bijur By: Anne Bijur Joshua Bruenning By: Jenny & Kurt Bruenning Baby Calza We are praying for your healing By: Anonymous Ridge Chappel & Sophia Nance We miss and love our babies every day By: Carey & Robert Hneleski Jess C. Cooper IV In memory of our son, Jess C. Cooper IV By: Shawn & Michael Dennis Emery Olivia Croson We love and miss you, Emery. Merry Christmas. By: Ryan Croson Delaney Grace Cuculich Remembering our beloved baby girl By: Jennifer Wambach

Benjamin Owen Devos By: Rosalie Maimone & Craig Medwick Simone Payton Dodd Simone, you are in our hearts and prayers forever. We love you so much and will see you in heaven one day. Love, Aunt Lauren, Uncle Ryan, Fiona, Grammy and Pop-O By: Lauren Long Riley Eberman By: The Eberman Family Chase Ryan Elmendorf Thank you Share for all you do! By: Carol Elmendorf By: Jeremy Elmendorf By: Jan Lanigan Alaina Rose Farhatt Thinking of you and your family, Alaina. By: Jen Harutunian Stephen James Farrow We love you! By: Kathryn Farrow The Field twin babies In memory of your tiny babies, with love, AC & UB By: Cynthia J. Avella Lynsie Fishman By: Cynthia Layton Alexander Joseph Fritz In loving memory of our precious son, Alexander Joseph Fritz By: Stephanie Fritz Benjamin G. Gelsthorpe By: Glenda Botwinski Matthew& Maria Gorman By: Martha Lammert Baby Grace Thinking of you during this blessed season Love, Grandma B & Grandpa Bob By: Barbara & Robert Callanan Caroline Grace By: Greta Frazier Jack Andrew Granger II By: Isma Granger

Obed Warren Groggett By: Dee Ledger Elena Gilde Grossfield By: Anonymous Nathan Edward Haney In our hearts forever... By: Julie Counterman Mason Harris By: Denise & Lee Harris Griffin Heiney By: Deb & Jack Bailey Andrew Hewitt By: Linda & Clyde Hewitt Madison Hope In memory of our baby angel. We love and miss you. By: Cindy Guillen Dalton Howell By: Beth & Steve Lazenby Nicholas Matthew Huggins By: Margie & Matt Huggins Jack Robert Johnson By: Laura Scanlon Audrey Hope Keinrath In loving memory of our Granddaughter By: Connie & Richard Pirtle Gabrielle C. Kirchoff By: Christine Kirchoff Abigail Kuester By: Amanda Kuester Madison Grace LaGreca By: Jane LaGreca Lauren & Emma Lambert By: Susan Smith Christopher Lammert Merry Christmas and Happy New Year By: Lisa Cosher Adrian Edward Liang In Memory of our son Adrian Edward Liang who would have been 5 this year. By: Ginger Tong & Albert Liang Tong

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Thank You for Your Gifts! Joseph Margherio In memory of Joseph M. Margherio By: Mike Margherio By: Maureen Guffey Holt Mattox McEwen-Norsworthy By: Nancy & Charles McEwen Ava Elizabeth McGowan Wish you were here sweet baby girl....miss you so much! Love, Mommy, Daddy and Audrey By: Stephanie McGowan Briana Marie McGreal By: Karen McGreal Timothy Michael We will see you in Heaven. Until then, we will give mom a big hug, continue to look out for each other, and honor your memory. Love always, David, Christine, and Ann By: Christine Beutler Camilla Moss, Angus Shaw, and Hunter Charles Webb By: Laurie Twomey Baby Motil By: Rhonda Roseberry & Michael Motil Paige Nanberes By: Cheryl & Ronald Fauquher Marley Caroline Neville By: Teresa & David Andre Liam Niemi By: Elizabeth Hill Riley Claire Nitsch Hard to believe it's been another whole year that we've been missing you, Riley. By: Mindy Campbell Theodore Noah Okeson By: Victoria Okeson David Chase & Allison Marie O'Leary By: Donna Wilke Alexis Orsbon I'm so sorry for your family's loss. I hope that you can feel yourselves supported by those around you. By: Julie Buehler

Owen Christopher Paganini As he celebrates his 2nd Heavenly Christmas, we honor Owen's little life that has blessed & changed our hearts forever. By: Debra Mahan Tristan Jude Paloocek Merry Christmas Tristan Jude By: Mariann & Richard Wedel Kaedyn Roshni Patel You will always be remembered, missed, and loved. Enjoy being an angel in heaven. By: Gail Costigan Danny Pellinen By: Arikka Kalwara Charlie Perrin Lindsay and Matt, When the New Year comes around, we remember and honor Charlie. Love you always sweet boy...xxxxooo By: Sarah Brown Charlie, as the new year comes around, you are so in our thoughts always. We love you Charlie so much Xxxxooo Nana and Poppi By: Sarah Brown Amanda Nicole Rasmussen By: Carma & Randy Rasmussen Amy Noel Rathsam By: Sharon & Larry Rathsam Matthew Paul Rauch By: Nancy & Bill Rauch Joshua Mirkay Redington Always in our memory and hearts. By: Michael Redington Jim Rosche By: Louis Reardon Alina Rose For you, Alina, our Angel. With Love, Grandma Patti and Papa Scott. We miss you and we love you. By: Patricia Kenney Steffen Roth By: Diana & Ray Cheshire Mira and Sadie Brown Remembering our beautiful baby girls, Mira Nicole and Sadie Kayla, as we

approach their 11th birthday and angelversary on March 1st. By: Amy Brown Thomas Safransky By: Evelyne Thomas Olivia Sampson By: Karyn Sampson Eleanor Catherine Schaben By: Emily Thornhill Chantal Luc Shirley By: Francoise Shirley Shelby Smith By: Alicia Smith Janet Sugarman By: Jack Sugarman By: Lois Sugarman Jamee Swartz By: Diane & Jim Swartz Finn Thilenius By: Aaron Wright Emmanuel Thomas Tokarsky Dearest Emmanuel, We will always love you! We miss you but know you are in the best hands with God (and Nona). Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, little angel! Love, Aunt Friss, Uncle Matt, Luke, Christian, and Henry By: Christa R. Fistler Emmanuel was "born with wings" on Dec 23, 2014. He is my grandson. By: Edward Tokarsky Coleman Christopher Urzi By: Judy Goodall Merry Christmas to our beautiful Coleman. By: Tracy Rembusch David Jr., Kellen, Easton, Marek, & Barret Varady In memory of the Quints. By: Keith Varady Hunter Charles Webb To support the fundraising efforts of Betsy Webb. By: Meredith Berger Katherine Hines Patrice Lynch-Wood

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Hunter Charles Webb Anonymous Kerry Carter Colleen Dowd Thomas Fons Claire Grinley Deanna Hohman Jessica Holland Stacie Hutzler Lisa Kaczor Joshua Landholt Heather Lopez Kara and Christopher Lydon Lynn Marks Cory McClellan Danielle Murta Jennifer Nowakowski Ryan Roepke Michele Thiede Betsy & Ryan Webb Ivette Wright Clayton Welsch By: Marilyn & Sheldon Wettack The Babies of St. Joe West By: Lisa & Butch Zorn Colin Daniel Williams By: Dan & Lauren Williams Addison Lee Zambo By: Anonymous Baby A & Baby B By: Brian Johnson Bjorn By: Petronella & Jeff Gurule Clare Linda and Adam, We love you. We think of her often. Mom and Dad By: Lisa Phillips Makayla By: Elizabeth Teru Quinton By: Regina Cirrincione Robin You are missed every day. By: Susan & Leonard Craft Wesley and Matthew By: Michael Bielamowicz

In Honor of… The Fries Family For the support of the Fries family. By: Thomas Croke Katie Johnson Thank you for the joy you bring to our family! By: Gerri & Dan Kostecki Share In honor of the awesome ladies of Share! By: Debbie Toney Cathi Lammert To your love of Christopher's memory By: Cheryl & Al Moellenhoff To honor all those who are recovering from child loss through miscarriage By: Anthony Chavez

Friends of Share… Mary Alexandre

Ameren Missouri

Rick and Beth Andrews

Kathy Aubuchon

New Balance

Mark & Cindy Barada

Baue Funeral Home

Rudy Beck

Helen Beutler

Lana Brashears

Bravelets

Yvonne & Bob Brossette

Meredith & Derek Byers

Debbie & Jim Cochran

Nikki Cordosi

Sharon & Barry Covington

Raymond D'Auria

Matthew Doyle

Julia Everhart

Ellen Fisher

Ryan Folscroft

Justine Froelker

Mark and Betty Fuller

Robert & Nadia Gard

Teresa & Patrick Gavin

Ann Glaze

Dianna & Michael Glowczwskie

Jayshree Govender

Sara & James Higgins

Vicky & Dan Huesemann

Karen & Kevin Jackson

Judi & John Kapeller

Eunice Klaas

Amber Kraus

Michelle & Mark Kraus

Jared Krebs

Seymour Kroll

Stephanie Kurtzman

Linda Laferriere

Jamesine Lamb, OSF

Cathi & Chuck Lammert

Sarah Lawrenz

Linda Leindecker

Life Time Fitness

Charles & Kimberly Maner

Stephanie Manuel

Francoise & David McCollister

National Christian Foundation Heartland

John O'Connell

Tammy Olson & Brian Thileneis

Jill & Jim Peach

Susan Petzel

Christy Phanthavong

Carla Pund

Glenden Rayner

Chris & Shelby Roberdeau

Shayla Rose

Megan Rowekamp

James & Shelly Lo Running

Paul Schamel

Kim Schroeder

Jodie & Gary Segal

Amanda Standish

Shiraz & Gulzar Sunderji, MD

Lori Taber

Craig Weber

Kristina Weker

Gary & Melissa Wellman

Deb & Dean Welsch

Sandra & Larry Whitener

Shannon Willhite

Karen & Jack Zerr

William & Joann Ziegler

Richard Zuch

We are so

grateful for your donations, and for the sharing of your

memories of your babies loved and missed.

Thank you!

Thank You for Your Gifts!

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Today is our son’s fourth angelversary. As we make our yearly plans to honor our Carson’s life, I can’t help but recognize how much we have grown and how much we have changed. Only four years ago we were struggling to survive and find a purpose to keep on living. Today, though we hold Carson in our hearts and still miss him desperately, we cling to life and soak in each moment we have together. Especially those moments with our rainbow baby who blessed our lives two years ago. I have found that no matter how much time passes, I will always miss my Carson. There will always be a hole in my heart the size of a mother’s love – vast and endless. I carry him wherever I go, imagining him flying near me, reminding me in subtle ways to have patience and share our love with all those in my path. Seeing Carson in this way allows me to keep him close and gain a higher perspective, opening myself for healing. Carson’s short life touched many. He brought people together, and the gifts he left behind are visible in others, especially in me. Through him, I experienced more love than I had ever known, and much of it came from the most unexpected places. Focusing on these gifts Carson left

behind allowed my grief to grow into hope. There are many things I learned through this journey of love, loss, and hope. I learned to be present in the moment, no matter what it held. Being present with whatever emotions came up, whether it was anger, grief, depression, or hope, allowed me to acknowledge them, honor them, which then gave me the ability to release them. I know these same emotions will continue to revisit from time to time, yet each time I find myself there again, I will have a higher perspective, which will bring a whole new level of healing. Something else I gained was more patience – patience with circumstances, with others and sometimes their lack of thought or understanding, and especially, patience with myself. Understanding that grief actually changes the way our brain works gave me a greater appreciation for what I was really going through. Giving myself the same caring attention I gave to

others allowed me more space to heal.

Another gift that I found was the ability and freedom to love stronger and more earnestly. Carson’s loss was so unexpected, it taught me to truly appreciate each moment I have with those I love. It dissolved unrealized resentments and freed me to love deeper than ever before. I feel I am a far better person, mother and wife because of these gifts Carson left behind.

There is so much more that I have learned, but those things are on a level which cannot be explained by words. They are present, though, and can be seen by those who really allow themselves to see who I am. For in me, Carson will always live. I feel his brilliant light shining through me into this vast world we live in.

A new hope is being born; a hope that through our experiences with Carson we grow stronger – stronger in hope, faith, and especially love.

Danae Little is an author and a teacher who is blessed enough to currently be a full-time mommy. She is the author of “Carson’s Gifts,” a self-published journal of her journey through love, loss and hope. http://www.createspace.com/4098087

Growing Into Hope By: Danae Little in Memory of Carson Lee Little (February 1, 2012)

Smell the Roses: They’re Always There Dr. Diane Sanford

Many times I figure out what my New Year’s resolution is after the new year starts. That’s what happened this past week. I woke up Wednesday night thinking, “Stop struggling. Enjoy the good life you have.” Don’t get carried away and think my life is perfect. It isn’t. Although Ann and I teach self-care, we are equally challenged to make it part of our daily lives.

The New Year is about how to improve life and ourselves rather than savor what’s already working. In fact, last

week I talked about taking small steps to make change stick, which still applies because it’s challenging to “smell the roses” when facing the “daily grind”, as one of my clients puts it. When did we decide that life had to be difficult and stressful instead of satisfying and joyful? How often do we hear each other say, “I’m so stressed. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.” It’s the mantra of modern life.

I’m listening to Deepak Chopra‘s Reinventing the Body, Resurrecting

the Soul: How to Create a New You. He says that reconnecting with our soul’s inner guidance can make our lives easier. Well, mine woke me up last week and I’m resolved to spend more time soaking up the sunshine and appreciating my blessings. My family, friends, comfy home, writing with Ann, work I love , and the wonderful community of women whose lives have touched mine. Each day is a gift. Even in the darkest night, the stars shine.

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Adrian left this world on my birthday in March of 2014. My only son passed away, and when he took his last breath, it felt as if my world had stopped. I just sat there holding my bundle of joy, and I wondered how I would go on. My son was born at twenty-three weeks and two days. He weighed one pound and 6.6 ounces. He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. I knew he had a lot of obstacles to overcome, but I had faith that he would come home. I was so happy every minute I was with him, and when I got to hold him, my heart was full of so much love and joy. When Adrian was three days old, he coded. They said there was nothing they could do and that he wouldn’t make it overnight. I hit my knees and prayed the most sincere prayer I had ever prayed. I asked God to give me just one more day. One more day to tell him how much I loved him, one more day to touch him and show him how much he meant to me. God answered my prayer and gave me thirty seven amazing days with my son before he was given his wings. On March 22, Adrian got a small hole in his intestines. They said the medical term was NEC, and that a lot of premature babies get it. They rushed him into surgery, but by that time it had spread, and all his intestines had died; there was nothing they could do. I held him all day as he was on a morphine drip, and at 6 pm, we decided it was time to pull his breathing tube out. It was the hardest moment of my life. After I left the hospital, it all seemed like a horrible nightmare. All I could think was, “Why my son? What had I done wrong? Why couldn’t I save him?” I was his mother, and there was nothing I could do.

The next few days were a blur. The funeral arrangements, the gathering of family and the small coffin that was put in the ground was all so painful that I felt numb. I didn’t want to live. I cried for days, and the days turned

into months. I thought if I wasn’t grieving for him, then he would think I was forgetting him. This was not true. I knew in my heart my son would want me to smile, to laugh, and to live my life. It wasn’t easy, and two years later, it is still painful.

Some advice for other grieving parents is that it is okay to talk about your child. It is normal to be angry, but do not push the people away who want to be there. I know it is hard to be around people as you grieve, but let them know that instead of ignoring them. They just care. Do not try to drink the pain away. From experience, I will tell you it will make it so much worse, and it will not bring your child back. Remember that even though your child is gone, you can still smile from the memories you have of them. Everyone is different. If you need to put their things away for a while, know that it is ok. It isn’t because you don’t care, it is because you are trying to heal, and looking at their belongings makes you miss them even more. Keep your faith. I know this is the hardest because you will wonder why God had to take your child. Try to remember that even though we don’t know why He did, there is a reason and that one day we will know why. Find a reason to keep going. It’s going to be hard, but remember that even though you cannot see your child or touch them, it does not mean that they are not with you. And remember that you will see them again someday. Write to your child. This worked wonders for me. I would write when I was sad, when I remembered something good and when I wanted to give up. Write it down and later down the road, you will see the progress you have made. Put their pictures up when you are ready. It will make you smile eventually to see your beautiful angel hanging on the wall. The holidays and the first year will be the hardest, but you have to keep going. Your baby would not want you to give up. Talk to your family and

friends, and I suggest a counselor for support. Counseling has helped me a lot. You will never be the same, I can tell you that, but you will be happy again. Maybe not as happy as you once were, but one day you will find yourself smiling while talking about your memories with your baby. You will find little things that remind you of them, and you will feel a sense of peace every time you see or hear that.

You will come to realize that even though your child is not here on earth, they are in a wonderful place far better than what we are living in, and they are happy and healthy and free of the wicked things that are happening in our world. After two years, Adrian’s pictures are hanging on my wall. I share stories of my memories with him as I smile and laugh remembering the moments we shared. Yes, I still get sad, and it still hurts at times, but it is a lot easier now to deal with.

What I am trying to say is, don’t give up. Live for your baby. I know it hurts, and you will feel like you can’t go on and that the world is over. It’s not. In time, you will begin to heal; you just have to keep pushing to get there. If you can’t find a reason to live, it might help you to think of this: Your children want you to laugh and live life. They want you to love again. They want you to go on and live a happy life so that one day, when it is your time, you can go home to them. They will be waiting for you, and when you get to the other side and see your baby’s face, you will be glad you pushed through and that you made it home to God and to your angel who is waiting. This is a poem I wrote for Adrian. I hope that this has helped you. Please know there are people who care about you, and you are not alone...

I think of you

When the snow falls on a winter day

I think of you

A smile or tear,

I think of you.

Learning to Cope By: Sheila Armstrong

Page 13 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Learning to Cope (continued) As the presents are opened on

Christmas day

I think of you.

The chill on my face,

And I’m frozen in time.

A time I once was hopeful for the snow to fall.

A time I would wrap you up as we would build a snow man,

But the snow has passed and time has changed,

But I think of you.

When the spring is here and the sun comes out

I think of you.

The light that shines upon my face

Brings back memories of the light in my eyes when I held you.

I think of you.

When the showers start in the midst of spring,

I think of you.

Your love pouring down on me.

I think of you.

The flowers bloom

I think of you.

The Joy in my heart

Is all for you.

When summer comes and the children

play,

I think of you.

You would be coming home.

I think of you.

As I pass the park

I think of you.

As the month of June comes,

I think of you.

Your due date is here

I think of you.

I see your smile in the sunshine.

And I think of you.

As the leaves begin to fall.

I think of you.

I am holding onto your memories, and the times we shared.

I think of you.

It seems the fall is hardest, as the colors fade away,

And the world turns dark.

But I think of you.

But one day I will hold you.

And the seasons won’t matter.

I will be with you.

The tears no longer fall,

Like the autumn leaves that blow away.

I will be with you.

The sun will shine upon my face.

I will be with you.

My life will be whole again,

Because I will be with you.

Wait for me son.

I’m waiting for you.

And when that glorious day comes

And I get to come home.

I will be with you.

We will laugh and rejoice

I will be with you.

My life will be complete once again

Because I will be with you.

Dedicated to my son Adrian January 17, 2016

January 1, 2011 is a day I will never forget. My husband and I welcomed a beautiful baby girl to this world. Sadly, just three days later on January 4, 2011, we had to say goodbye. A heartache, a pain that no parent should have to endure. Our sweet daughter, Paige, was gone, and we were left with broken hearts and big dreams to make sure our little girl was never forgotten. In the last five years, we did several things to honor Paige. I made hair bows and donated them to the local NICU where Paige spent her short life. We participated in walks and joined committees that would bring awareness to the illness which took Paige’s life.

We celebrated Paige’s 5th birthday this past January, and we knew we wanted to do something different, something

that would tell Paige’s story, something that would bring some good into this world. We decided on doing acts of kindness for complete strangers. We invited family and friends to join us and asked that the acts of kindness be completed between Paige’s birthday (January 1st) and her glory day (January 4th). We created cards for everyone to pass out when completing their act of kindness, and we called it “You’ve been PAIGEd!”

To say we were overwhelmed by the amount of good happening in memory of our daughter would be a huge understatement. We handed out over 400 cards to family and friends, and even complete strangers participated. The acts of kindness ranged from feeding an entire fire house of firefighters, to paying for a meal for a

complete stranger, to delivering roses to every nurse on a labor and delivery floor of a local hospital. The “You’ve been PAIGEd” cards gave a link to a blog I started right after Paige’s death. Many people visited our blog and left stories of how they were touched by the kindness they received. Our Facebook page was flooded with complete strangers reaching out to say thank you for making a difference in our daughter’s memory. The “You’ve been PAIGEd” acts of kindness made a very difficult week a little easier to get through and allowed many to feel the love we have for our sweet Paige!

This Random Act of Kindness was submitted by Marissa, Paige’s Mom. To read more of their story, visit paigesparadise.blogspot.com

Random Acts of Kindness: You’ve Been PAIGEd! By: Marissa Steinhoff

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Smoke Break By: Donna Matz

Next month will mark 20 years since my son, Joe, was born still. My first pregnancy had been normal and uneventful for 39 weeks and 5 days. But at my 40 week checkup, there was no heartbeat; just that deadly silence that is too familiar to too many. Fortunately, at the hospital I was given a brochure for a local support group, MIS (Miscarriage, Infant Death, and Stillbirth). These monthly meetings played a vital role in my recovery from this devastating loss and trauma. Horrifically, my second pregnancy ended in miscarriage at about 12 weeks in January, 1997. Just when I thought I had fought to get my head just above water, the talons of grief had snatched and plunged me back into it’s abyss. It was at this time I sought a professional grief counselor with experience in perinatal loss grief and began weekly sessions with her. I remain grateful to this day for finding such a compassionate and competent counselor! The work of picking up the pieces and building a new normal began. She was my solid anchor as I was an erratic buoy bouncing on the waves of emotions and falling to the depths of despair. Considerable time and work was spent developing coping strategies for facing the challenges of daily life: addressing those well-meaning but hurtful things that were said to me, anger management, and attending the first baby shower after my losses. Initially, my therapist tried to discourage me from attending my

friend Susie’s baby shower as she thought it was too soon after my losses. However, I was determined, and when I explained that Susie was a former co-worker who had been extremely supportive of me and that there would only be two other people attending who I knew (former coworkers) who were even more supportive and caring, she relented. It was the perfect scenario for that first baby shower being relatively anonymous as only three women present (the mother-to-be included) knew my story. I wouldn’t be burdened with feeling like the big grim reaper in the room, the ultimate kill joy in the flesh. “So what are you going to do when all the ooooing and aaaahhhing starts to feel suffocating?” We began to evaluate the options: I could leave, but that would be too abrupt and would call unwanted attention to myself. Or I could quietly slip into the kitchen and start washing dishes and cleaning up; this would not be unusual for me to do at a party, but since I didn’t know the hostess, I probably wouldn’t be comfortable with that. So I guessed I would suffer in silence. Then it dawned on me…. these people don’t know me, so I could be a smoker and leave for a smoke break. It was the perfect solution! I still chuckle as I recall stopping at the gas station to buy the cigarettes. I’d never bought them before and remember thinking that these death sticks are pricey!

Feeling the wave of anxiety and nervousness rising, I was rushing to get out of the store when the cashier stopped me to give me a pack of matches. “Oh, yeah, thank you.” I shoved them into my purse, and off to the shower I went. As it turns out, I never had to take that smoke break. The power of having a plan provided the confidence I needed to not need to use it. Not only having a plan, but also having my two supportive friends, Liz and Heidi, was instrumental in facing this challenge as I wasn’t facing it alone. They were there to pull me up should I start to feel myself drowning in darkness. In the years since my son’s death and my miscarriage, I’ve learned that the loneliness and isolation of perinatal loss is perhaps the most difficult aspect of this type of grief. Finding and participating in the MIS support group was a lifesaver for me. It is where coping strategies were shared, compassion was readily available, and lifelong friendships were formed.

It’s why when the former facilitators of the group had to step down from their roles, a friend (also named Donna) and myself stepped forward to continue the work of this unique support group. “The Donnas” have been honored to serve bereaved parents who have suffered perinatal loss for the past 15 years as we honor the legacy of our children.

Vilomah Kula: Online Support Community By: Paula Stephens Last year, as I approached the five year anniversary of losing my oldest son, I reflected on the resources and tools that had helped me the most over the years. Two of the profound elements that were most helpful were community and learning about how others were living with child loss.

Vilomah Kula was created to bring together the best elements of social communities (such as Facebook) with the action it actually takes to heal. This is a first of it's kind blend of having groups and social interaction with resources and tools under the same umbrella.

The best way to get to know the Kula is to watch this behind the scenes video, https://vimeo.com/154361382 or visit the website at www.vilomahkula.com. You can also email me at paula@crazygoodgrief.com and I’ll be happy to chat and answer your questions!

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Reserve Your Table Today! For those interested in mindless trivia,

AND in supporting Share and the families we serve, please save the date for the

2016 Share Your Knowledge Trivia Night on Saturday, April 16, 2016. Bring a table of your friends and pool your minds for a fun night supporting a this incredibly powerful mission!

For more information, and to register, click here: http://nationalshare.org/?event=trivia-night-to-benefit-share-2&event_date=2016-04-16

Share Your Knowledge Trivia Night

Share Walk for Remembrance & Hope T-shirt Quilt Raffle! Lovingly handcrafted by Marilynn Maurer and Paula Morrow, this Share Walk for Remembrance and Hope t-shirt quilt will be raffled at this year’s Angel Ball! Raffle Tickets are $5 each or 6 for $25. Official drawing will be held at the 14th Annual Angel Ball on April 9, 2016. You need not be present to win; we will happily call you with the news! We will lovingly send this item to any winning Share family anywhere in the country or world—if you have any questions, please contact Sarah Lawrenz at slawrenz@nationalshare.org.

Thank you to our talented volunteers and generous supporters! Click here to enter: https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/share/eventRegistration.jsp?event=796

Raffle for Angel Ball: A Share Walk T-Shirt Quilt!

St. Clare’s Share Chapter Leader Melanie Schwob made this beautiful quilt with her support group. Below she tells the story of her inspiration behind each piece of fabric. The inspiration for this project came from my Support Group families at St. Clare. As the Share Bereavement Coordinator for St. Clare Health Center, I wanted to do something that would help foster positive outcomes from their grief and felt that a quilt could be an avenue. I learned to sew as a young girl, and I grew to love bringing ordinary fabric to life. Each family in our support group was encouraged to choose a pre-cut square of fabric and in any way they desired, transform it into a expression of love. I compiled these "love" squares and assembled them into a finished quilt.

By helping parents create a tangible work of art with a simple square of fabric, together they brought their babies' memories to life. This activity was my gift to the group, but by entrusting me with this project, these families have inspired me. They continue to energize

me with their courage and trust, and are continuing to reach out to support one another. There is no greater gift.

*If your Share chapter is proud of an accomplishment, please let us know so we can recognize you in Sharing!

Chapter Spotlight: Creating a Tangible Work of Art & Healing

The Room we Made for Owen By: Julie Backer

What are you going to do with his room?” Everyone who came over to visit us following our son’s stillbirth asked us this, but the answer was not an easy one. Time and healing helped us find resolve and a solution that felt right for our family.

It was August 2009, and I was 37 weeks pregnant with our first son, Owen. I had a perfect pregnancy and loved the joys and planning that came along with being pregnant. After struggling for a few years with infertility and having a few miscarriages, I was finally going to have a baby. Being a teacher who heads back to work each August after a long summer off meant I had the time to be sure I had Owen’s room completely ready before school started. Since my due date was just a few days into the start of a school year, my husband and I spent my last few weeks at home during the summer getting every single detail ready for Owen’s arrival. The room was freshly painted. His dream rocker and furniture were delivered. Curtains were hung and board books were carefully placed on the bookshelf. The bedding, blankets, bibs and clothes were all carefully washed in detergent safe for infants. Even the diaper bag was packed and ready to go by the nursery door. Having all of Owen’s things organized and ready to go meant I could focus on starting the school year and getting my classroom ready for a full year of learning. The only detail that was missing from Owen’s room were the wooden letters “O-W-E-N” that we had purchased but were waiting to hang. Since we found out the gender, we decided to reveal his name upon delivery.

My 37-week check up happened to fall on my first day back at work. I worked a full day in my classroom before heading to my doctor’s office for my checkup. After the usual weigh-in and blood pressure check came the time to listen for Owen’s heartbeat, but our son’s heartbeat could not be found. My doctor rushed us to an ultrasound room and told us the words that changed our lives: Your son doesn’t have a heartbeat. The following morning, Owen Michael Backer was born into Heaven, and we immediately became bereaved parents. My husband James and I were beyond devastated and navigated some rough, emotional waters throughout the next

few months as we tried to find our way without Owen here.

My husband and I left the hospital with a box filled with Owen’s things. His entire life had been reduced to one small, blue box no bigger than a shoebox. Inside of this special box was his hospital hat and blanket, the brush and comb used to groom his full head of hair and the remains of the bottle of baby body wash they used to clean him up. How could it be that just a few days before he was moving and kicking around inside of me? Life had thrown us an unexpected curveball to say the least. When we returned home for from the hospital, I immediately walked upstairs with the small box in my hand and said to my husband, “I want to go in his room.” I placed Owen’s blue box down on his nightstand and sat in his dream rocker next to the window. I spent that first night at home staring up at the stars and the dark night sky wondering where Owen was. Could he see me? Could he feel me? Did he miss us and wonder why he didn’t get to come home to his perfect little nursery? Was he sad or was he ever in any pain? All of these thoughts and more rushed through my mind as I rocked back and forth in his rocker. Instead of holding and rocking him, I held on to the few items I had that were inside of the box and rocked with those items instead. My heart literally ached for him to be with me, and my arms felt so empty. His room would become one of the only places I found peace, comfort and solace.

The days and weeks following Owen’s death seemed to drag on. I wanted to feel whole again yet couldn’t imagine moving forward. To get through the following weeks, my husband worked,

and I spent my days attending therapy or visiting Owen’s grave. Yet, every night, we always found our way back into Owen’s nursery. I would sit in the rocker and James would sit on the floor against the dresser, next to the letters, “O-W-E-N” that we had set out on the floor once we got home from the hospital. It was here that we connected, talked about and prayed for Owen, reflected on the hardships of the day, and eventually made our plan to move forward in Owen’s memory.

After a few months of attending therapy both as a couple and by myself, my husband and I found the courage to call our fertility doctor and ask about the steps we needed to take if we wanted to try to get pregnant again. Six months had passed since Owen was delivered, and I felt as if I had the courage to try again. After just a few treatments we learned we were once again pregnant. As soon as we saw those words flash across the pregnancy test, the worry and anxiety set in. How was I going to make it through another pregnancy? What if it happened again? And if we didn’t have a boy, what would we do with Owen’s room?

Just as we had with Owen, we decided we should find out the gender of this baby. I was about 16 weeks pregnant when we went in for our ultrasound. As bereaved parents, gender did not matter to us whatsoever; we just wanted to have a baby alive in our arms! But deep somewhere in my own heart, I so badly wanted this baby to be a boy so we could keep Owen’s room the way it was. My husband and I could continue our nightly chats in his room, and best of all, we would be able to use all of the beautiful bedding, decorations, blankets and clothing that had been purchased for Owen. I distinctly remember lying

Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2 Page 16

on the ultrasound table, clutching a little monkey in my hand that was Owen’s, as the technician asked us if we wanted to know the gender. We of course said, “Yes!” and that’s when she told us, “IT’S A GIRL!” I smiled and James leaned down to kiss my forehead as tears streamed out of my eyes and down the sides of my face. I was so happy, yet so sad at the same time. What was I going to do with all of Owen’s “stuff?”

Months went by and our daughter’s arrival was approaching. Many people kept asking us the same question, “What are you going to do with his room?” A few weeks before my daughter’s arrival, my Mom called and asked me, “When are you going to change Owen’s room?” This was a slight variation from what everyone else had been asking us all along. After answering, “I’m not sure Mom,” she told me this little girl inside me deserved to have a room and “things” waiting for her, just as Owen did. She said I needed to try to find the joy in this pregnancy just as I had with Owen’s. She told me lovingly and patiently that it was time….my baby girl was coming soon! After explaining to her the ritual and comfort my husband and I had established and found each night sitting in Owen’s room, she understood what it would be for us to change things and move his little blue box from the nightstand where it had sat for months and months on end. Even the diaper bag was still sitting by the nursery door. She suggested I take pictures of everything in Owen’s room and create a book from a photography website of all of the photos so I could remember exactly how his room looked. I loved her suggestion and decided to do just that. When the time was right, of course. In the coming weeks, my husband and I went to a baby store and picked out bedding for our little girl that would match the color of the walls we painted for Owen. I wanted to keep something the same and didn’t feel like I had the courage to change everything. A few days after our shopping excursion, I grabbed my camera and starting snapping photos of Owen’s room. I took pictures of every little detail: the pattern on his crib sheets, the placement of the baby blue box, specific board books that we read to Owen in

utero, special outfits we picked out for him, his mobile hanging above his crib and of course the letters- “O-W-E-N” that had rested on his floor for months on end. That evening, I took the pillowcase off of the throw pillow that sat in Owen’s dream rocker and replaced it with the one we got for our little girl. Tears streamed down my face. I hadn’t imagined in a million years it would be so hard to change his room. I told my husband it was going to take weeks for me to get our little girl’s room done if it were that hard to take a pillowcase off a throw pillow!

I spent the next day on the computer, creating a special book called “The Room We Made for Owen” using all of the photographs I had taken the day before. I captioned each picture and placed the photographs carefully so the book not only detailed Owen’s room, but also told the story of his short time with us here. I was so proud of myself for having the courage to make this book because it served as the first step to taking his room down. After a week or so, the book arrived in the mail and filled my heart with so much joy. Once again, my husband and I found ourselves in Owen’s room that night, thumbing through the book and remembering our time with him.

This book was a catalyst for us to move forward with our daughter’s room. Now that we had Owen’s room preserved in the photo book, taking down his things little by little didn’t seem as difficult anymore. I had preserved his room and how it “should have been” for Owen in the book, so changing his room for his little sister seemed natural and timely. We spent the next last few weeks of my subsequent pregnancy preparing the nursery for our little girl, whose arrival was imminent. My husband and I found a special storage place for all of the things that were distinctly Owen’s, like the little blue box, the boy outfits that hung in the closet and his “boy” bedding.

The night before I delivered our little girl, I took the “O” from the letters that sat on the floor of Owen’s room and hung it on the wall. Olivia Ann Backer was born on November 11, 2010. A few months later we learned were pregnant again, this time with a little boy. Noah James Backer was delivered on February 26, 2012 and used almost everything that we had in Owen’s room.

God didn’t stop there. We are expecting another little boy on March 29, 2016. We are so fortunate that both subsequent sons are able to use all of Owen’s things, which had been so carefully packed away years ago. Owen’s room has truly lived on, both in our house and for our family. His book, his room and his presence still continue to fill our hearts with love every time we walk in Owen’s room.

The Room we Made for Owen (continued)

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Page 18 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Losing a baby to miscarriage is the most heart-breaking thing that has ever happened to me – my darkest hour followed by my most desperate days. It’s opened me up to a whole new world in which the reality of life’s fragility is so much more real, and a world where my eyes have been opened to hurting parents all around me with hopes deferred and dreams dashed. But it’s also opened me up to a world where I’ve seen over and over friends—and even casual acquaintances—that genuinely want to help.

And as much as they want to help, loving, well-meaning friends often feel awkward and don’t know how to relate after such a tragedy. (What if I say the wrong thing? What if I get in the way?) That’s ok – we who have lost babies know the tension and we understand there is no cultural blueprint for dealing with the death of a baby, especially when there is no body to bury.

I sincerely hope you never need to use these suggestions for a bereaved parent in your circle. But if you do, never underestimate the power you have to minister profoundly through simple gestures and supportive friendship at this time. You can help a family in crisis find the difference between grieving with despair and grieving with hope as they process the loss of their child within a caring, supportive community.

1. Don’t be silent. In our effort to give people personal space, we can inadvertently leave them feeling uncared for. Losing a baby is one of the loneliest events a woman might ever experience and she and her family need to know they aren’t forgotten in their pain. Send a hand-written note, make a phone call, or

drop off flowers. At minimum send a text or write an email. She may not answer the phone or return your text straight away, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t appreciated. Don’t be silent just because you feel awkward. Instead, just say “I’m sorry” or “I’m thinking of/praying for you” (if you actually are). Even those simple statements can touch people deeply as they are reminded that they are not alone. You can also say, “I don’t know what to say.” Even that—combined with a hug—can be comforting as you stand in solidarity and identify with their pain.

2. Be available to listen and talk… or not. There is no way to know exactly what a parent will want or need as she deals with her grief moment-by-moment. She may want to talk it all out or she may not want to delve deep in that moment. She may find comfort in hearing your own story of loss or she may rather you quietly listen. Follow her lead as she sets the pace of conversation and continue to gently make it known that you are available for whatever she needs.

3. Give her permission to feel whatever she’s feeling. Grief comes in waves – sometimes in the form of questioning or anger or sadness or blame or a thousand other ways. As she learns to navigate those waves, your friend might also struggle with comparing her pain to another’s (“but she lost her baby at birth” or “I only had one miscarriage but she had three” or “she was farther along than I was,” etc.) and then feel guilty because she feels worse than she thinks she “should.” Help her to know that whatever she’s feeling is normal and that her pain is just that – hers. It is what it is – no more or less than it “should” be. In the thick of grief after babyloss it’s important for parents to feel validated that the life and death of their little one was more than a “pregnancy loss” – it was the death of a child and the death of a future together. Grieving loss of that magnitude will take time and that’s okay – there’s grace for the process.

4. Refrain from offering pat answers or religious clichés. A grieving parent doesn’t need to hear things like: “God will never give us more than we can handle” or “now you have an angel in heaven” or “at least you know you can get pregnant” or “that baby was too special for earth” or “God will give you another baby when it’s time” or pretty much any form of “there is a reason this happened – it must be for the best.” When a parent is grieving the death of a baby, it is more than we can handle. That’s why we need you and that’s why we need God to carry us. We cannot do it alone – it’s too much, too hard. And if that baby was “too special for earth” does that mean that we were not special enough for the baby? (See how that might unintentionally heap false guilt on a bereaved parent?) We don’t want an angel in heaven, we want a baby in our arms. (I’m not saying you shouldn’t bring up heaven, especially if you share a common faith, but do so with a heightened sensitivity.) Although every woman is different, most need to grieve the loss of one baby before deciding she can face her fears and set her heart on trying for another one. Take care that you don’t try to minimize the pain by encouraging her that she can try again before she’s ready or not to worry because “time heals all things.” Even though all of these types of sentiments are well-intended, they can be damaging for a grieving parent and cause even more confusion and pain during an already murky time.

5. Give practical help. One of the most common things for women who have just lost babies is that they feel emotionally and physically exhausted. Helping with simple things like meals, laundry, watching the children or doing school runs (if applicable), cleaning, etc. can minister so deeply. Some days she needs all her strength just to make it out of bed. An important tip: Instead of making a general offer such as “let me know if you need anything,” make your offer more concrete: “I have a dinner planned for you, what night works

How to Care For a Friend (and Family) After Miscarriage or Stillbirth By: Adriel Booker

A friend who

understands your tears

is much more valuable

than a lot of friends who

only know your smiles.

best?” or “I have set aside some time to clean your bathroom, may I come later today or would sometime tomorrow be better?” As much as the general, all-encompassing offer is appreciated, it’s actually very hard to articulate and ask for specific help when it’s most needed while being tossed around in the waves of grief. To put it simply: general offers can be hard for a family to cash in on, so get specific, and then follow-through.

6. Don’t assume that someone else is looking after them. Especially for those that seem to have lots of friends, a large workplace, or attend a large church, it can be easy to assume that someone else is looking after a grieving family… even if that’s not actually the case. No one intends to let things fall through the cracks because of faulty assumptions, but it happens. Be mindful that you don’t miss an opportunity to support a family after a loss because you think it’s already covered by someone else. They need you now more than ever. (This becomes especially true if their own family is far away or if family relationships are already strained.)

7. If you are a person of faith, pray, pray, pray. When we lost our baby we felt so covered in prayer for those first few days. It’s hard to describe, but we felt a tangible presence of God that we’re convinced was directly linked to the prayer of saints. Also, offer to pray for the mother and father in person when you see them during a visit, at church, etc. or pray for them out loud over the phone. Don’t fall victim to the mentality that it’s “just prayer.” Prayer is powerful and critical and brings life and change, hope and encouragement, healing and comfort. Not only will a family need concentrated prayer after a fresh loss, but they will also need prayer well beyond those initial first few days. Weeks and months later they might need prayer more than ever—the mother in particular—as the reality and finality of the loss sinks in.

8. Don’t forget dad. Although it’s typically different to the

way a woman grieves, men have their own process to walk through after losing a baby. Often he’s busy with work and supporting his wife emotionally as she grieves (as well as other children) and so it may appear that he’s perfectly fine as he tries to maintain the status quo for the sake of his family. I guarantee you that he’s grieving too. Hugs, small gestures of generosity (like a coffee or a favorite snack dropped by his workplace), and heart-felt prayer can go a long way. In addition to caring for the mother, ask yourself if there are small ways you can ease dad’s load, validate his pain, or demonstrate your support to him in a personal way.

9. Give her grace around other pregnant women and babies. When I first miscarried I found it so healing to be around my friend and her adorable newborn. She had wondered if she should avoid me while my grief was so fresh (to protect me from more pain) but I wanted to be around them and of course my friend was delighted! At the same time I found it very difficult to be around pregnant women, especially those who would deliver close to my due date. After a period of time it didn’t affect me as much and I found it easier to feel genuine joy (without jealousy) when I heard pregnancy announcements or saw bellies swelling with life. Then, about six weeks or a month before my due date, a new wave of grief came and it became extremely difficult to be around pregnant women again – those newly pregnant and those about to burst. There’s no way of knowing what capacity your friend will have for being around pregnant mothers and babies and it will likely vary over time. This is another area where you have to let her take the lead, but it’s also one that you should consider initiating gentle communication about if you’re unable to read her signals or if she’s gone quiet. Let her know that you understand if it’s too hard to attend a baby shower or visit a friend in the maternity ward and ask her what she is and isn’t comfortable with. (And then don’t judge her response or try to talk

her out of it.)

10. Mark your calendar. Anniversaries and other important markers are extremely difficult for bereaved parents. Mark your calendar with the baby’s estimated due date, the date they received a horrible prognosis, the date of the miscarriage or stillbirth, and/or the date of the funeral. As those dates approach, extend special kindness, send a card or flowers, drop by a meal, or make a purposeful phone call. If they have named their baby, mention their little one by name or use it when you write a card. (You have no idea how validating and comforting it can be to see that others recognize your baby as an actual person with a name and an identity.) Do something to remind them that you miss their baby too, that you are still sad for their loss, and that you want to support them any way you can. Knowing that her baby and her feelings of loss are not forgotten will be a special comfort during those ‘marker’ dates.

11. There are a million little ways to love one another. Obviously there are far more ways to help a grieving family than the ones I’ve listed here. Each family will have unique needs and will be blessed in different ways depending on their family structure, life circumstances, and personalities. As a friend you are positioned perfectly to discover those if you’re willing to take a little initiative and willing to not always get it exactly right.

As you step out in faith and generosity of spirit, your friends will be ministered to in their time of grief. Practical, emotional, and spiritual support during this most tender of times can fortify a friendship like nothing else, and love offered will find its destination among those that are hurting.

You can read more from this tender author by visiting her website below:

www. adrielbooker.com

How to Care For a Friend... (continued)

Page 19 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Page 20 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

I had a conversation the other day with a co-worker who recently lost her Mom. She told me she was doing okay, and trying to get back into 'real life' just a few days after. I know that feeling, not from the loss of a parent, but after the loss of my babies. I just let her talk, as sometimes for me, that was the most therapeutic. Just letting it all out. We were talking about loss and how to deal with it, and she seemed frustrated about something. As we talked (really, as she talked and I was listening), she started telling me about the day her mom died and how she wanted to handle it in her own way and not allow anyone else to dictate what she was supposed to do. That statement really struck me. How was she supposed to handle it? Is there a right way? Absolutely not. There is not a right way or a wrong way. Her family, most likely not intentionally, was pushing her to handle things the same way they were. That was not what she wanted. She wanted to handle things the way she wanted to. Do what worked for her. And she made sure that what she wanted was what happened. Everyone needs to do things in their own way. And everyone should be allowed to do things in their own way. Especially when the thing is dealing with death - whether it be the death of a parent, spouse, friend, child or even a child you have not met. Here are some things I have learned: There is no time limit to grieve and no defined set of rules on how to grieve. Some people grieve quickly. They are able to say their goodbyes and move on. They are not heartless or uncaring. It is just how they are. Just how they work. My husband is like this. With all of our losses, he moved on quickly. Yes, he is sad. Yes, he hurts. Yes, he wishes they had not happened. Yes, they have had impact on him. But, he

gets back to 'real life' quickly. It is hard for me to understand, but I know that is how he is, how he deals, and I respect that. I know what we have been through is something he will always feel and will always be part of him. Others grieve for a long time. There should not be a time limit placed on grieving. A day. A week. A month. A year. A lifetime. Any amount of time necessary. I lost my babies. I will never get over that completely.

But at the same time, it is important not to dwell on how terrible it is, how painful it is and how sad I am. While grieving is very important and everyone should be allowed to take their time, that person should also remember to get up everyday, pull himself/herself together and try to work toward moving forward. Sure, there were (are) lots of days I wanted to stay in my PJs and be sad. However, I tried to at least get up, take a shower and find something productive to do that day....big or small, only as much as I could handle.....because I knew that was important. Be mindful and aware of others and allow them to handle in their own way. Everyone has their own way. Grieving is very personal. And a grieving person needs support from those around him/her. Always. For me the support has always been what helps clear the fog. However, when the support becomes pushing to "stop crying" or "it is time to move on," I do not respond well. There is a fine, almost invisible line, for those who are supporting a grieving person between support and pushing. It is an easy line to cross. If you do, try to be aware of it and don't be offended if the person you were trying to help reacts poorly. Emotions are raw, always.

I also feel myself being very particular who I surrounded myself with. Or at least being aware of who I did and did not want to be around. Early on, after each of my losses, I remember saying this many times.....I was just not ready

to see people. I only wanted to be with my husband, our son, my mom (sometimes), my sister (sometimes), a close friend (sometimes). The general population was really not something I wanted to deal with. Even other members of my family were not really people I wanted to be around. It wasn't personal, I love my family and my husband's family. It was just too much for me to deal with too many people. And I didn't worry about it. I knew they understood. Listen. For me, telling my story is important. It helps me handle the emotion. And I have discovered it helps people who have been through this and felt alone. I don't walk around yelling my story or pushing it in the face of those who don't want to know or don't need to know. But, if you have asked me and I am telling you, please listen to me. What I am telling you is the most difficult thing I have gone through. And I am telling you because I need the support you offered. Don't talk too much - even though you are just trying to help. As I was talking to my co-worker, I discovered I had lots of advice, things I could tell her about what worked for me. But, I kept most of it to myself because I could tell, my just standing there and listening to her was just what she needed and when she needed or wanted advice, she asked. Visit Sarah’s full blog at http://our-unexpected-journey.blogspot.com

To Each Her Own By: Sarah Bartels, author of “Our Unexpected Journey”

Don’t allow others to rush you through your grief.

You have a lifetime to heal, and it’s a lifelong journey.

Travel at your own speed.

~www.thegrieftoolbox.com

Page 21 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

This beautiful poem was written by

RaeAnne Fredrickson, creator of the

inspirational blog,

“All That Love Can Do”.

One sweet day, I will close my eyes here for the last time, and open them there for the first.

Your sparkling eyes, your darling smile, your soft hair and skin – everything wonderful I’ve missed about you – will welcome me on that sweetest of days.

One again, I’ll hold you. Once again, I’ll kiss you. Once again, I’ll pull you close and breathe you in. Once again, I’ll be filled with joy and peace.

For the first time, you’ll be mine to keep, forever. For the last time, I’ll remember the day you left. For the first time, all the pain of your loss will fall away forever. For the last time, I’ll remember how it felt to be without you for so long.

For the first time, I’ll be free.

For the first time you’ll hear me say, “Hello my love, I’m here to stay,” and “I’ll never let you go.” And for the first time, I’ll know it’s true.

For the first time, I’ll hold you, and you’ll hold me too.

One sweet day, I’ll know I had been right all along; You were happy, you were safe, you were waiting patiently for my time to arrive. And, finally, that day will have come.

For the first time, I’ll spend every moment possible with you, without the fear of knowing it’s going to end. For the first time, I’ll have no need to hurry, or try to make every second count. There will be no need to rush. You’ll be mine for always.

For the last time, I’ll remember how desperate I was to memorize your every detail on the day I had to say goodbye. For the first time, those memories will fall away forever. For the first time, I’ll know it’s never going to end.

That sweetest of days we will begin our new journey together; mother and child. Never to part. Never to fear. Never to hurt. Never to yearn for again.

That day I long for with each passing moment will then have become my reality; The day that now seems as distant as eternity itself; The sweet day I’ll say goodbye to this heartache for good; The day it’s all finally finished, this lifetime of living without you, this lifetime of deep aching in my heart.

For the first time, I’ll hear the voice I’ve imagined a thousand times actually say, “Welcome home, mama! I’ve always known your love, and you can know mine!” For the last time, I’ll remember the constant absence of your life from mine.

In that sweet moment, the missing piece from my heart – the one your exact size and shape – will once and for always snap into place, and all will be made right once again.

On that beautiful day, that sweet, wonderful day, when finally we’re together again, forever.

Finally, my grief will be done. Finally you’ll be mine to keep. Finally, it’ll all be over. And all about to begin…

To read more of RaeAnne’s blog,

please click here: http://

allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/

Willow Tree “Tenderness” Figurine by Susan Lordi

One Sweet Day By: RaeAnne Fredrickson

There are some

that bring a light

so great

into the world

that even after

they have gone,

the light remains.

Going back to work after you’ve experienced the loss of your baby can be a worrisome, stressful time. We reached out and asked our Facebook community to share any insight they may have gleaned from their own experiences with returning to work after their losses. If you will soon be returning to work, we hope the following stories from others who have been in this situation will give you some ideas on ways you might handle this challenging time.

I was working at a national coffee shop when I lost my daughter. I actually ended up transferring stores because some of my regulars were told I went on maternity leave instead of what actually happened. There was no way I thought I could face them. ~Angela

I had a friend send an email out to my team about my wishes on how to approach me. Also, after my initial time off, I went in for half days for two weeks. That helped me adjust getting back into it. I work from home, so I am very thankful I didn't have to "face" people. I know my experience is very different than others. ~Leslie

I changed jobs. I started my miscarriage while at work, and when I went back to work a few weeks later, it was very difficult. I never told anyone I was pregnant let alone that I was nearly halfway through my pregnancy when it

happened. Many people asked questions that I didn't know how to answer, so when I told them the truth about everything, it made them very uncomfortable. I felt like they thought I was lying about everything because I never told anyone I was pregnant. After a week, I switched jobs and moved to another city, a city closer to my family. That helped a lot. ~Katrina

I don't think there's any easy way to transition back to work. I thought I was fine when I first returned after a miscarriage, but it was so hard that first day that I ended up taking off a few more days. When I returned, everyone asked where I had been. Of course, I could only tear up and shake my hand letting them know I couldn't talk about it. I'm a teacher and was able to focus on my students all day, but every break I got, I couldn't help but grieve over my loss. Things started to change when I opened

up to a few co-workers about my loss. Talking about my child has helped me get through the pain. I know it made some uncomfortable, but it's what I needed. Those that could talk about it with me, did and continue to. I've learned that many other women have been through my pain and/or the pain of infertility. It's comforting knowing that others understand and care about your situation. Two things have gotten me through all my losses and struggles with infertility, and those are prayer and conversation about my miscarried children. By talking about them, I know they are always with me. ~Lauren

A fellow co-worker and friend sent an email out for me. My co-workers are amazing! They bought gift cards for eating out those first few weeks and helped make my transition back to work so much easier. When I needed a break because I was having a break down,

Angel of Hope

Tranquil, beautiful, Ben Rau Memorial Garden in Blanchette Park, St. Charles, Missouri is home to the Angel of Hope, an exact replica of the Christmas Box Angel statue, stands as a symbol of hope for all parents who have experienced the death of a child. To honor our

children’s memories, memorial bricks are placed around the base of the Angel of Hope as well as the walkways that lead to the statue. Every hour of every day, the Angel is visited.

In St. Charles, MO, new bricks are dedicated in special ceremonies held twice each year, in the spring and in the fall.

To purchase a brick at the St. Charles Angel of Hope, or more information on this memorial site, please visit http://nationalshare.org/donate/memorial-bricks/

For a listing of Angel of Hope sites worldwide, please visit http://www.richardpaulevans.com/angel-statues/locations

Page 22 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

My house had just exploded with baby items before we lost our son. We had just had a baby shower, so items were everywhere. While we were still at the hospital, my husband and brother in law ran home and put everything into the nursery and closed the door. I was thankful that they did this. I know it was hard on my husband. I was thankful that they left the ultrasound pictures out and didn't pack them away. ~Dolly

This is a painful topic for me. My husband is Jewish, and they had an old wives tale tradition of not buying anything for the baby before he or she is born. With Bridget, I only bought a handful of things. I didn't want a shower because I was trying to be respectful. During her birth and death, I was hospitalized with a serious infection. I requested it all be given away (the items I bought) before I got home. Then... I wished I hadn't said that. I wanted those items for her. I still wish I had them. My advice is to remove or hide the nursery or baby items but do not give away! Wait until the darkest moments have lifted. Allow yourself time to see what you would like to keep, donate or sell. Please give yourself time to process. If you are a loved one reading, please hide or tuck away for a while. ~Laura

My husband packed everything away before I came home; I stayed with my mother for the first couple days. I didn't go through them until probably a good year later. By then we had already moved, so it was a like a fresh start. ~Amber

We're all different. I think I would have been angry if others had hidden my daughter's things. I put things away when I was ready. ~Dawn

I went through the clothes and blankets. I kept some that were special to me and put them in a container, and I donated some to a NICU. It felt good to me that someone would be able to use his stuff. He had many medical issues and would have been one of those children in the NICU. I have to say it took almost a year to take the crib down. It felt like if it wasn't there he never existed. My husband didn't push me, but when we

were getting our carpets cleaned he asked if it was ok. I told him as long as I didn't see it, I thought it would be ok. I think everyone is different and there is no "right" way—it’s just what feels right to you. ~Dawn

Carina's room was basically ready for her when she died. We had bought all new furniture for her room because, while we had moved Gianna into another room before Carina was born, she wasn't ready to give up her crib. So, we had bought a new crib, dresser, and nightstand for Carina. I had bought, washed, and put away clothes for her. The new crib mattress was being aired out, so there weren't sheets on the crib yet, but everything else was ready. After she died, I had my husband shut the door, and I didn't go in there for 5 months. I didn't even open the door. I'd stand in the hallway with my hand on the doorknob, but I just couldn't bring myself to open it. Around the 5 month mark, I started opening the door, but I couldn't go in. I'd open it, look in, stand in the doorway for a few minutes, and then shut the door again. Probably around the 6 month mark, I went in, mainly because it bothered me so much that her crib wasn't made up. So, I went in and actually made up her bed -- put the mattress pad on, put sheets on the crib mattress, and put the bumpers in the crib. I'm sure my husband thought I was completely crazy, but he never said anything about it. And it just made me feel so much better that it was truly ready for her...even though she would never lie in that crib, I needed it totally ready. Sounds strange, but it made sense to me at the time. After that, I would go in her room regularly and sit in the rocker-recliner and just be. I'd cry, reflect, miss her, write in my journal, etc. In many ways, her room brought me solace. Eighteen months after she died, we became pregnant with our son. Carina's room was gender neutral since we didn't find out if she was a boy or girl until she was born. So, her room became Evan's room after he was born. We added some special touches for him and to make it his. But, I worried I would feel like it was still HER room. And I did. But it didn't bother me the way I feared it would ... it actually helped me to feel like she was watching

over him. We moved from that house a year later, and I still miss that room. I don't think I've ever told anyone who isn't a bereaved parent that I actually made up her crib 6 months after she died. I think they would think I was completely out of my mind. But I know that other bereaved parents would "get it." We do what we feel we need to do to get through such a horrific situation. And we all do the best we can in those circumstances. Time certainly does give us perspective. ~Michelle

I had put everything in a couple of clear Rubbermaid containers. My hubby didn't know what to do with everything, so he left it as is...someone said they asked me in the hospital, but I don't remember. I felt relieved that I was the one to put them away...I wanted to touch her things. I kept everything from the hospital, and all her onesies, blankets and hats I put into a large glass jar...so when I'm having my Alivia moments, I can still smell her. I set up a curio cabinet with little keepsakes and pictures. There was a bear the hospital gave us; I put her dress she wore for pictures on the bear, and it is in the curio cabinet. ~Sabrina

My situation was different due to having a surviving twin. They took the crib down while I was at the hospital. My mother in law and I poured ourselves into making a quilt (mainly her, I have no sewing skills) out of his crib bedding and his outfits. It turned out amazing, and they were his. Proof he was here. ~Sarah

My husband and I put all the baby things that were all over the house in the nursery that day and shut the door. I didn't want any help. He never really went in there after that, but I would go in there regularly since my office was in the room next to the nursery. I would go in there and cry, look at the molds of his hands and feet, lock of hair, his crib all ready for him, etc. I left the crib set up and put his stuffed animals in there with his blankets on the railing. I finally boxed almost everything up and it felt like I had some closure, but at the same time I didn't want that. ~Andrea

When your baby has died, one of the most heart-wrenching experiences is often coming home to a lovingly decorated nursery that was ready and waiting for your new baby. We posted this topic on the Share Bereaved Parents’ Support page to gather and share with you some ways in which parents have found healing and peace in deciding what to do with their baby’s precious possessions and nursery.

someone covered my class for me. I was very open with the kids at the beginning of the year and told them I might have sad days and why. They have been amazing too, and so understanding. I

think we underestimate kids. I'm now in my 21st week with my rainbow baby, and the kids will stop and ask me how the baby is doing. It's really sweet. ~Elizabeth

Page 23 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Brave Momma,

The one in prenatal yoga tonight with a 12 week flat belly. Your first time coming.

I see you.

I started going to the classes around the same time during my 3rd and 4th pregnancies. 11 or 12 weeks pregnant. I went each week. Rarely if ever missing a class. It was sacred time. I craved it between classes, sometimes speeding down the interstate to make it on time. Being there made me feel strong, powerful, normal. Like the others in the class. Like a Mom. Like I was supposed to be there. Fighting the feeling that I was not supposed to be there. That I didn’t belong. That I was different.

In warrior pose, I stood proudly, stretched out my arms, reaching one hand to the past and one to the future.

In child’s pose, I cradled myself and my babies in the fetal position. Safely cocooning their spirits in mine.

In tree pose, I focused, building my stamina and balance for the babies to come.

At the beginning of each class, our instructor asked us to introduce ourselves. Our names, our gestation week, if it was our first.

Hi, my name is. I’m this many weeks. This is my second baby. We just found out. We're having another boy!

Hi, my name is. I’m this many weeks. This is my first baby. It’s a girl!

Hi, my name is. I’m this many weeks. We haven’t found out yet.

Hi, my name is. I’m this many weeks. It’s a surprise.

My turn. Hi. My name is Maria. I’m 11 weeks.

Is this your first?

Swallow. Inhale. I. Well….No.

How old is your one at home?

Exhale. Inhale. Swallow. This is my 3rd pregnancy but we lost the first two. We’re hopeful about this one.

Eye contact broken. Silence. The instructor quickly moving to the next mom.

Silent tears down my face as I let my head hang loose in downward dog.

Each time, if I didn’t offer it right away: Is this your first?

First what?

First baby?

First time I’ve been pregnant?

First time I’ve been this pregnant?

First time I’ve wanted so deeply?

First time I’ve loved so profoundly and fully?

First time I’ve feared so intensely?

No, it’s not my first.

This pregnancy is different. 2 children at home. No time to carve out the sacred time. Tonight at 24 weeks, I return for this baby’s first class. Rolling out my mat and glancing around at all the momma bellies, I feel different. I’m a veteran. I can almost guess from the faces who is new to the class, who is new to pregnancy, who has little ones at home.

And this time, confidently, I say Hi, I’m so glad to be back. I’m Maria. I’m 24 weeks. I have 2 angel babies and 2 girls at home. And we’re expecting a 3rd girl.

Several moms follow me, describing their swollen bellies filled with their futures.

And then you speak.

Hello, my name is. I have 3 angel babies. I’m 12 weeks. This is the first time we’ve gotten this far.

I see you.

Brave Momma.

The cautious joy.

The muted fear.

The sadness, the grief, the pain.

The quiet courage. The hidden strength. The boldness of trying again despite a history that tells you the odds are against you.

I see you.

Steeling yourself. Reaching forward while pulled to the past.

I see you.

Your wanting. Your longing. For the babies that were and the baby that is.

I see you.

I see your babies. 1. 2. 3. And 4.

I see your babies.

The babies you never got to share. The ones you don’t often name. I see them. 1. 2. 3.

The ones that are present always but tucked away in your heart, protected from others’ lack of recognition, protecting others from discomfort of something they can’t understand. The ones you name inside your thoughts while telling the world that “yes, this is my first.”

More moms follow you and then another kindred spirit:

Hi, My name is. I’m 29 weeks. We have 3 angel babies.

Another of us.

We catch eyes on the way out. And in the cold parking lot, I call out, “Thank you for sharing tonight.” You offer a quick, tender smile, and say

Is This Your First? By: Maria Paredes, PhD, LPCS

Page 24 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

“No. Thank you. For sharing first.”

We are soon joined by the other kindred momma: Thank you. I wouldn't have shared if you hadn't shared first.

And then by a 4th momma who eagerly shares: I lost my first baby too, but I don’t call it an angel. But, I know.

We share a few brief exchanges. Our fears. Our hopes. We don’t have to say much. We say a lot.

A sisterhood of loss.

A shared knowing.

We all smile gently, warmly. Unspoken gratitude streaming among us.

“Good luck” we each repeat. It gets easier, I say.

And then we all drive off.

http://bodypoliticswithdrparedes.blogspot.com/2016/01/is-this-your-first.html?m=1

Is This Your First? (continued)

Notes of Hope: A Collection of Messages to Our Babies, With Love Share is honored to share with you Notes of Hope: A collection of messages to our babies, with love.

It is with full hearts that we offer you this beautiful compilation of your collected Notes of Hope. So often, we speak to our babies in the quiet of our hearts, and many times, it feels as if we talk to them with every breath we take. And somewhere, along the path of our journey without our children, the words we speak through raw grief and longing can soften, and slowly join with words of hope and the most tender love. It is these words we have invited our Share community to share with us, so that we may compile these

messages, these testaments of love to become treasury of hope for other bereaved families as they take the first steps of their journey. Here at Share, we understand the powerful impact of the words of our hearts when we put pen to paper, or fingers to keys, and know what a special gift this can be when shared. As always, we hope you find comfort in these messages and that they might lead you to a sense of hope and healing in the midst of heartache.

We have all been touched by the words of your hearts, and are deeply grateful for the opportunity to pass on your messages to our larger Share community. Please enjoy, and freely share, our Notes of Hope.

Please note, you are welcome to download and print a copy of this PDF on your own, however, if you would like to have a professionally printed version, it can become available for $20, if we reach a minimum order of 25. We will need to know your ordering intentions by March 15, 2016.

If interested in placing an order, please email Jaclyn Nikodym, jnikodym@nationalshare.org or call the Share Office at 636-947-6164 and include the best email and phone number to reach you.

Click here to view and download the PDF.

Page 25 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Page 26 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Share sincerely thanks those who have so graciously given donations in memory of a baby, relative, friend, and in honor

of all loved ones and through Matching Gift Programs. Gratuitous donations are also accepted from anyone who wants to

help Share in its mission. We gratefully acknowledge these gifts, which help us continue to reach out and fulfill the daily

needs of bereaved parents. Share’s services are available free of charge to bereaved parents, family and friends, or

anyone whose life has been touched by the loss of baby.

When you make a donation in memory of a loved baby, please include the name of the baby or babies, the birth or death

date(s) and the parent’s name(s). We would love to acknowledge your donation to the parents. If you donate in memory

or honor of a special loved one, please include their name(s) and pertinent information. A short message may also be

included with any donation. Thank you so much for your faithful gifts!

Share’s mission is to serve those who are touched by the tragic death of a baby through early pregnancy loss, stillbirth or

in the first few months of life.

Six times a year, we share information and ideas from parents and professionals in a magazine to support and provide a

sense of friendship for bereaved parents. We hope you will find this magazine helpful and that you will share it with

others you feel it would interest.

We encourage you to send your personal articles, stories, poems, artwork and recipes to our magazine at any time.

Please do not submit copied, copyrighted, or web articles. The Magazine Editor reserves the right to edit your personal

submission for content and/or length to fit the needs of the particular magazine edition in which it will appear. Your

submission may be used for the current magazine, or may be used in a future publication. All submissions become the

property of Share.

Please include all pertinent personal information so we may identify you and your baby/ies in the respective publication.

Your submission grants Share permission to list your personal information with the publication unless instructed

otherwise.

Magazine Submission Guidelines:

1. Please provide title, authors’ name and applicable loss information for article submissions. If donating monetarily in

memory of a baby, please provide loss information, including the parent’s name(s).

2. Submissions must be received no later than the 1st of the month, one month prior to issue month. If you are making

a donation and would like to be recognized, or honor a birthday or anniversary, in the most recent edition of the

magazine, then it, must be received by the 10th of the month, two months prior to the publication.

3. Please type your submissions in single spaced, 10 point, Times New Roman or Arial font when possible.

4. Submissions can be mailed to 402 Jackson, St. Charles, MO 63301, e-mailed to rcarlson@nationalshare.org or faxed

to the National Share Office at 636-947-7486.

Sharing Magazine Information:

Sharing Magazine is published by Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support, Inc. If you would like to reprint articles/submissions from Sharing please properly cite Share and the writer by stating the name of the organization, website, magazine, volume, issue, and author in your acknowledgements. If you would like to reprint an article/ submission that is copyrighted by an author or a publishing company, you must obtain permission from the copyright holder to reprint. Email questions to rcarlson@nationalshare.org.

Would you like to be removed from

mailing lists?

To remove bereaved parents’ names from mailing lists you can visit

http://www.privacyrights.org/fs/fs4-junk.htm#MPS

-OR- Send a letter plus a $1 check or money order to:

Mail Preference Service Direct Marketing Association

PO Box 643 Carmel, NY 10512

The Mission

With Gratitude

Page 27 Vo lu me 2 5, I ss u e 2

Upcoming Issues of

Sharing

Magazine

May/June 2016

Honoring your Parenthood

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day can be two of the most painful days bereaved parents face. In

this issue, we will share stories of how you honor yourselves as parents when one or more of

your children are not with you, tips for getting through these

days, and finally, special things others have done to recognize

and honor you as a parent.

July/August 2016

Relationships: Staying Connected with Loved Ones

after a Loss

It is not uncommon for newly bereaved parents to withdraw from their family and friends,

often feeling alone in their grief. However, maintaining social and

family relationships can be an integral part of comfort and

healing. In this issue, we will share ways bereaved parents

have found to sustain friendships and other important

relationships while grieving. If you found comfort and support from your loved ones or from unexpected sources, we would

love to hear from you.

Sharing Magazine reaches over 10,000 families, and is shared

with countless others around the world. Please know how many

lives your story will touch.

Please submit your stories, poems and artwork to

rcarlson@nationalshare.org

Thank you!

Connect on Facebook

Search: Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support

Share offers several social communities in addition to

support groups. Search: Share Bereaved Families Peer Support for

general bereavement or Share Subsequent Pregnancy Peer Support if

you are currently pregnant or are planning to become pregnant

following the death of a baby. Please note that these are closed groups

and membership must be approved by an administrator.

Get the magazine delivered directly to your inbox!

In an effort to reduce our carbon footprint, we have

decided to make the magazine available online. If you

would like to receive a copy via email, we would be

happy to add you to our mailing list. Visit

www.nationalshare.org then click ‘Subscribe’ in the

top right corner!

Find a Share Chapter Near You!

For a full list of all Share Chapters across the country, please visit

http://www.nationalshare.org/heal/sharechapters/

Need Resources? Shop on Share’s online store for books, gifts, memorial keepsakes and much more! https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/share/giftstore.jsp

Follow Share on Pinterest for ideas and information

on memory making, jewelry, grief support resources,

books, holiday traditions and so much more!

Read our most current blog posts at www.nationalshare.blogspot.com

Stay connected

on Twitter!

@Share1977

We continue to expand our video library on YouTube.

Watch What’s Happening!

Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss

Support is delighted to invite you to

the 14th Annual Angel Ball Gala on

Saturday, April 9th at 6:00 PM

at St. Louis Marriott West.

The Angel Ball, originally meant to

be a one-time event to celebrate

Share’s 25th anniversary, has now

become a beloved, not-to-be-

missed Share tradition. While this

event is essential to helping Share

raise funds to continue to provide

free support to serve bereaved

families grieving the loss of their

baby, it is also a magical and lively

evening where Share families,

volunteers, community leaders and

faithful supporters can come

together to support one another

and a tremendously important

mission, all while having a fabulous

time at a dinner, auction, and dance

to be remembered. Please help us

Let It Glow at the Share’s 14th

Annual Angel Ball!

To buy a ticket, bring a table,

become a sponsor, donate an item,

or learn more about this beautiful

event, please contact Sarah

Lawrenz at 636-947-6164 or

slawrenz@nationalshare.org.

Registration will be opening

soon!

http://nationalshare.org/

angel-ball-2016/