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Taking a Sad Song, Making it Better

~ Discovering joy amid pain

Taking a Sad Song, Making it Better

Category Archives: Memories

The Summer of Collected Memories

23 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by purdywords in Acceptance, Blessings, Change, Coronavirus, COVID-19, Family life, Inspiration, Intentional Living, Memories, Motherhood, Parenting, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Perspective, Rest, Seasons, Simple Living, Simplicity, Stress & Anxiety, Thankfulness, Travel

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Coronavirus, Living intentionally, Seeking joy, Simple Joys, Summer 2020

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” – John Lubbock

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/32939-rest-is-not-idleness-and-to-lie-sometimes-on-the

Facing a litany of summer let downs due to COVID-19, I became insistent my family, in our conscious efforts to slow down, mask up, and stay home, would still have a long list of positive memories. Oversimplified and less monumental than summers prior, it was imperative we gathered a collection of sweet, tangible experiences of our own to hold and enjoy. But, first, we would allow ourselves the space to mourn our personal disappointments: the canceled annual vacation, refunded summer camps, no pool days, declining offers to gather, not visiting loved ones with vulnerable health conditions, avoiding crowds and community, only attending virtual mass, and sorrowfully missing our friends and family. Then, we would rest and appreciate the slowness, embrace this time of stillness and isolation, and despite the litany of mourned losses, we would find a way to make the best of it—together. Although, at the beginning of this summer experiment I had rampant doubts about how we would pull it off, I believe we exceeded our goal and succeeded in our efforts to “discover joy amid the pain.”

Once virtual schooling came to a halt, my husband and I scoured Airbnb for in-state cottages and cabins to our liking, in our modest price range, and declared 2020 would be the season of locating the quaint and hidden gems nearby. The fruits of this idea did not disappoint. Intentionally, we spaced our bookings apart so we would have one adventure to look forward to every month of the summer. We filled in the downtime with ease by including treks to local parks, camping in our yard, gathering for family game nights, and letting the days unfold on their own. The choice to have a combination of planned getaways and unscheduled stretches of time spent at home attributed to a quite happy and wholesome break. By allowing ourselves the occasion to branch out toward sections of the state we’ve not visited before, and returning to the areas we favor, we discovered newfound delight in local exploration and realized ourselves more in awe of our awesome state and enamored with the town we live in.

Another unexpected advantage to the pandemic summer was the making of an outdoor retreat tucked away in the woods on the property where my husband grew up. Frequently when visiting my father-in-law, we’ve walked the area together—especially in the winter months when the overgrowth has fallen and our boots can crunch atop the frozen earth. The freedom we found this summer allowed my husband and children to embark on a project together, and they set about clearing out a more direct path from the house to the forest, lining the grassy lane with bits of wood and rock, and making the connection between the house and back property a more delightful experience for everyone involved. Now the children can roam and run free between the yard and faraway wood without the distress of thorny entanglements or fear of getting lost. The joy in carving out this special place has allowed us to share with our kids the type of summer fun we fondly remember having—hot summer days spent in outdoor intrigue, hours gone investigating the natural world, making outdoor revelations on our own, and finding a piece of oneself that can only be uncovered under the shade of a tree, breathing in the fresh air, one’s skin soaking up some Vitamin D. The chance to gift a piece of our past to our kids, to allow them to encounter for themselves the unhinged joys of a simplified and rural encounter, was an unexpected blessing of the summer—a highlight all of us agree upon.

Creating this hidden world for our family to treasure was also an opportunity for peaceful reclamation. Shielded from the cacophony of worldly anxieties, the forest cover has comforted and cocooned us as we dealt with the stressors surrounding and threatening us on a daily basis. Within the personalized hollow, we could forget it all for a little while. We hung up our hammocks between the trees as our Boy Scout practiced and refined his outdoor skills, our youngest daughter worked to identify plants and wildflowers and took polaroid pictures of whatever drew her eyes into focus, and our youngest son walked the length of logs, climbed atop piles of dirt and debris, and gathered sticks and rocks. Nearby, my husband delighted in working to improve the nature-given space, and I indulged in a new novel, read between the camp chair and a hammock, and wrote in my journal. We lit fires and ordered pizza for dinner, looked up at the sky and marveled at the blue, and listened to the symphony of sounds of rural Ohio as we bathed under the light filtering through the trees above us.

A few weeks ago, my kids donned masks on their faces and strapped backpacks to their bodies, climbed the stairs into their school bus and chose seats near one another, then waved good-bye to my husband and me as they drove off to the start of a new school year. I see a difference in each one of them and it’s not just their sun-kissed cheeks and golden highlights, not just the inches and pounds added to their frames, not just the new shoes and crisp uniforms. I believe the difference is apparent because they’re shining from the sound interconnectedness between them, made stronger from the calmness and maturity they’ve gained, are restored by the ability to be resolute and resilient in anxious times, and fully renewed from having spent a season seeking joy in the minuscule moments of life.

A new time has emerged now, and I’m looking forward to what discoveries await us in the autumnal season. I know there will be more silver linings to weave into our familial story, sweet memories to create together, and small, not insignificant, moments to cherish. As 2020 comes to a close—thankfully so—I’ll spend the next few months measuring the milestones, maintaining the closeness, and continuing to make the best of this unprecedented time by demonstrating to my kids how gratitude is possible even on the worst days and remaining intentional about reminding them: all we have is today. So, let’s live it well, while we can.

We have grown dull toward this world in which we live; we have forgotten that it is not normal or scientific in any sense of the word. It is fantastic. It is a fairy tale through and through. Elephants? Caterpillars? Snow? At what point did you lose your wonder of it all? – John Eldredge

https://www.outofstress.com/finding-joy-simple-things-quotes/

Thoughts on Journal Writing

30 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by purdywords in Journaling, Memories, Past, Peace, Writer's Block, Writing, Writing Goals, Writing routine

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Creativity, Journal writing, Journaling, Seeking joy, Writer's Block, Writing

“The pages afforded glimpses into my soul where I’d hidden it, behind masks of paper and ink.” ― Rachel L. Schade, Silent Kingdom

The greatest cure I have found to my own writer’s block is diligently keeping a personal journal. Some days, if my fingers won’t willingly dance across the keys of my laptop, I take up my pen and put the ink to paper, easily scrawling away the mess filling inside my head―all of the anxieties, doubts, fears about the unknowns, random thoughts, memories, coincidences, and dreams. Once my journal writing session is complete, which takes me anywhere from 10-20 minutes (depending upon the weightiness of my heart and the heaviness of my soul at the time), I am finally confident and steady enough to confront a blank screen. After I journal, my mind is straighter and freer, and I am able to write fluidly with a clearer perspective, lighter heart and peaceful demeanor―no matter the subject matter.

It takes only a quick Google search to discover why famous authors, past and present, have kept a journal. Personally, I find the process cathartic; a balm to my emotional, sentimental nature. I would much rather my journal be the vessel bearing the burdens of my inner-person, fielding the complaints, taking the hits, mending the brokenness, offering the therapy, relieving the stress, questioning the injustices, remembering the laughter, piecing together fragments of memory, working through shame, healing past hurts, expressing grief, and recording both the simple and profound moments of my life. Essentially, my journal is where I work out the sorrows and write my way to discovering the joys.  

A cup of tea, a near-perfect pen, a journal waiting to be filled―this is my prescriptive remedy for a happy calm. Journal writing is as essential as breath. 

If you’re intrigued by the journal writing process, but have no idea where to begin, I recommend reading this: https://journaltherapy.com/lets-journal/a-short-course-in-journal-writing/

May I also suggest reading this essay on writing?  Ellen O’Connell Whittet muses in beautiful detail about how everything we write matters. 

 

“I say to people that I am not writing, but I keep writing the diary, subterraneously, secretly, a writing which is not writing but breathing.”  ― Anaïs Nin, from her Diary

In Thanksgiving for Literature and Literary Spots

08 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by purdywords in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Authors, Books, Chasing Dreams, Memories, Peace, Reading, Thankfulness, Writing

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#30DaysofThanks, 30 Days of Thanks, Books, Bookstores, Creativity, Giving Thanks, Gratitude, Inner peace, Inspiration, Libraries, Life lessons, Literature, Living intentionally, Memories, Peace, Poetry, Poets, Reading, Seeking joy, Writing

I lived in books more than I lived anywhere else. ~Neil Gaiman

 

Truth: When I was a young girl, I had recurring nightmares about being caught inside a burning house and not escaping until I could figure out how to save my books. This revelation quite possibly tells you enough about me that I should stop writing now! Nevertheless, I persist in written expression of my deepest gratitude to all the authors of the literature I have read over my lifetime and for those I can hardly wait to read. Interwoven into thanksgiving for books, I am eternally grateful for the peace I feel every time I enter a library or bookstore. So much so, that I will forever seek out literary spots wherever life finds me and take a piece of their shelves home with me in eager anticipation of visiting the world of words set between the pages of each and every gift of a book.

Just for fun, here is a sampling of some of my favorite bookstores I have encountered in my travels and places I have lived:

  • Brookline Booksmith, Brookline, MA:  https://www.brooklinebooksmith.com/
  • Mitchell’s Book Corner, Nantucket Island, MA:  http://www.mitchellsbookcorner.com/
  • Paragraphs Bookstore, Mt. Vernon, OH:  https://paragraphsbookstore.indielite.org/
  • The Book Loft of German Village, Columbus, OH:  http://bookloft.com/
  • The Book Nook & Java Shop, Montague, MI:  http://www.thebooknookjavashop.com/
  • The Kenyon College Bookstore, Gambier, OH:  https://www.shopkenyon.com/

Please, leave a comment and tell me about your favorite bookshops!

 

Some books leave us free and some books make us free. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

In Gratitude for Learning how to Forgive Thyself

06 Monday Nov 2017

Posted by purdywords in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Blessings, Change, Forgiveness, Memories, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Perspective, Seasons, Thankfulness, Walking & Hiking

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#30DaysofThanks, 30 Days of Thanks, Challenges, Forgiveness, Life lessons, Peace, Self-love

Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself. ~ William Shakespeare

 

Allowing my mind to wander at will during my brisk walk today along the trustworthy path in the neighborhood where I reside, my thoughts turned to the act of forgiveness and what a delicate art mercy can be, especially when extending that grace to oneself. Revealingly, my inner critic is a harsh woman and I persistently fight for victory against her bitter tongue and unrealistic expectations. Today, I am thankful for the great lessons of life and heart that have contributed to my acquired strength, humble formation and greatness of spirit over these forty-something years. Self-reflection reveals I am witness to the lasting goodness, genuine beauty and absolute joy that emanates when one learns to forgive herself with the utmost sincerity.

 

“When you forgive, you love. And when you love, God’s light shines upon you.”   ~ Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

 

In Gratitude for Love and Marriage

02 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by purdywords in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Blessings, Chasing Dreams, Love, Marriage, Memories, Past, Perspective, Seasons, Thankfulness, The Husband, Uncategorized

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#30DaysofThanks, 30 Days of Thanks, Catholic Marriage, December, Family time, Inspiration, Love, Marriage, Memories, Seasons, Thankfulness, Thanksgiving, Wedding Anniversary, Winter

“I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.” ~ Oliver Herford

 
Increasing our gratitude efforts in the month of November can allow us to reflect back on moments that have strengthened and blessed us, or forward thinking to events and anniversaries that fill us with a happy light. Next month, my husband and I will celebrate 15 years of marriage, and for this phenomenal event, I am eternally grateful. Today, I am giving all thanks to my wonderful husband. For without him, I’d be devoid of the feeling and experience of unconditional, sacramental, true love.

We were married on a snowy evening in mid-December. It was magical, ethereal, lovely. My fondness for the month of December runs deep. When the snowfall begins lightly and lovely, as soft flakes of iridescent beauty swirl and float with ease, a sparkling backdrop to the darkened sky, I am filled with a special sort of nostalgia–an essence my husband and I wanted to emulate and capture as we pledged ourselves to each other for a lifetime on our wedding day. 

The beauty rooted in the winter season brings forth quiet stillness, gentle peace, and a warmth discovered by being wrapped in the arms of your beloved. Despite the cold and the dark, there remains an elegance in winter if only we will ourselves to set forth and seek it out. As long as life gets cold and gray or seems bleak and frozen in despair, it helps to have a loved one by your side for all of the ups and downs life inevitably brings. The holidays in the month of December allow ample chance for us to give and receive thoughtful gifts and greetings of love, peace and joy that will ease the burdens and struggles with pure reasons to hope and annual opportunities to partake in spreading love. For me, each December represents all of this and more, most importantly, a purposeful reason to rejoice for the love burning deep within my heart for my husband, my beloved, my number one.

I’m one lucky lady.

In terms of my marriage, you know, falling in love with my husband was by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ~ Caroline Kennedy

Strength in numbers and my personal #metoo

18 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by purdywords in Forgiveness, Memories, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Sexual Harassment/Abuse, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Uncategorized

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#metoo, Anxiety, Challenges, Healing, Hope, Memories, Peace, Self-love, Sexual Harassment/Abuse, Suffering, The Past

“Beauty provokes harassment, the law says, but it looks through men’s eyes when deciding what provokes it.” ~ Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth

 
My father was a traveling salesman for a book publishing company. Part of his compensation package included a leased company vehicle that he would sign for every few years. We had recently moved from Hopkinton, MA to a rural Central Ohio town in the summer of 1986, and I remember the day he picked up his new van like it happened only moments ago. Inside the car dealership, the lights were so bright it hurt my eyes and the air smelled of stale doughnuts, burnt coffee and chemical-laden air freshener. While my father signed paperwork and smoked a few Marlboro Reds with the representative, outside, my siblings and I were restless for being there so long and stayed with my mom waiting in the parking lot for our father to return with the keys and drive the new ride home.

As if they’d know one another their entire lives, my father and the sales representative sauntered outside in the afternoon sun, smiling and laughing, probably sharing stories of the sales trade. My father introduced each one of us and the salesman kept his sideways glance fixed directly on me, when out of his mouth came the words I will never forget, about being a knockout of a redhead, those long legs of mine, advising my father he better watch out with me and the boys that would no doubt be hanging around, and maybe he’d bring me back in a few years for a test drive with him and my own car?

I was ten-years-old when this inappropriate salesman thought it was funny and completely allowable to take note of my young-girl looks and dream of my future physical stature, giving no regard to my blushing face, nor my father beside him. His lingering gaze bore holes of shame through me and his unflinching smile was sinister sweet. Back then, I was too young to understand the implications and innuendos spoken that day. After all, I was only in the fifth grade. Yet, the entire presence of that tasteless salesman–including the outfit he was wearing, his moustached and confident face, smug demeanor, and crushingly detrimental words–have haunted me for over thirty years.

My late father was a good and decent man–absolutely not perfect–but, good, decent, and protective of his children and he handled the embarrassing situation with dignity. And you can be assured that we never saw that salesman again. Though, a few years later, when it was time to exchange company cars, I begged to stay at home and read my book, to which my father did not argue, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Fueled by the news in Hollywood of harassment and abuse that too many women have sustained, I’m sure you’re aware by now of the hashtag #metoo that’s swirling around social media and inviting women to share their personal stories of sexual harassment and abuse. Within my own circle of friends and family, it is disheartening to learn how much pain has been inflicted and endured in the name of sex. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention, in solidarity with my sister-friends, that at ten-years-old, that sleazy car salesman without filter nor decency nor couth, was not the first male to assert his sexual advances or desires over me, nor would he be the last. Though, there are some stories I am not willing to share, and this is my prerogative, while willingly choosing to not let their egotistical, sick, dominating power clutch hold of me forever. I have forgiven, but it’s difficult to forget.

As a caveat to my story, I feel compelled to write and say to all of my readers, that despite my personal stories, devastating experiences, and real struggles with the type of boys and men that harass and abuse, I have known more boys and men in my lifetime that are good, kind, decent, loving, protective, and respectful. Let’s not forget that for as many abusers there are in the world, there is still abounding love, light, and hope around us, and boys and men who will work with us to fight against the social and moral injustices of sexual harassment and abuse.

If you are struggling with your own story of sexual harassment, abuse, or violence and are in need of help, please contact a local therapist specially trained in this type of trauma. You may also contact RAINN or call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800.656.HOPE.

 

“You are stronger than you know.” ~ Lori Osterman

 

Lighting the way for those children lost too soon, never forgotten, remaining forever in our hearts #waveoflight2017

15 Sunday Oct 2017

Posted by purdywords in Catholic Parenting, Change, Infertility, Love, Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Parenting, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Prayer, Seasons, SIDS, Suffering, Tough days, Wave of Light

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#waveoflight, Challenges, Family time, Healing, Inspiration, Love, Memories, Miscarriage, Moving forward, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, Parenting, Peace, Perspective, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day 2017, SIDS, Stillbirth, The Past, Writing

“There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless, supreme. If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would show only a woman looking down at her empty arms.” ~ Charlotte Brontë

 

A flicker of light,

a ray shining through,

cast out the shadow of loss inside my heart

warm the chill of remembrance within me.

 

Annually on October 15th, grieving parents around the globe light candles that illuminate their homes in solidarity, united by brilliant luminance and the heartbreak entrenched by the grief over the children they have lost prematurely or in early infancy. The seven o’clock hour on this day, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, ignites the sorrowful hearts and minds of those whose lives have been tragically impacted by the loss of a child from miscarriage, stillborn death, and SIDS.

It’s alarming to read that ten to fifteen percent of all confirmed pregnancies will end in miscarriage. (Source: https://www.marchofdimes.org/complications/miscarriage.aspx)

Even graver, to learn that over 23,000 babies each year are stillborn. (Source: https://www.marchofdimes.org/complications/stillbirth.aspx)

A grim report from the CDC states that 3,700 cases of SIDS were confirmed in 2015.(Source:  https://www.cdc.gov/sids/data.htm)

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” ~ A.A. Milne

 

Most every year, I write about my shared grief on this day. (You can read my past blog posts related to miscarriage here.) Miscarriage and baby loss has affected me distinctly and most profoundly, and these incredibly difficult experiences were, in fact, the initial driving force behind starting this blog years ago. Writing through the lingering grief in hope of discovering new sources of joy in motherhood, my intent in offering up these deeply personal stories of mine was, and still remains, rooted in wanting to reach a grieving mother (or father) at the right time in their own journey of grief founded in miscarriage or infant loss out searching for understanding, compassion, and hope. Some brave voices and compelling stories of strangers, comprised a sorrowful circle of mothers who had known loss like I had, were discovered by me in quiet desperation for answers, community, and reason. Through the melancholic melody of their words, these women offered my grieving heart comfort, validation, and most importantly, hope. I only hope my stories will be the same beacon of light for someone in need.

On that note, I would like to recommend a few well-written blogs penned by authors, much like myself, gravely affected by the loss of their own children:

https://www.freckleeyefancy.com/

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/

https://grievingoutloud.com/

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

 

Tonight at 7:00, my family and I will be lighting a candle to honor and remember the six children we lost in miscarriage, our angels: Agnes, Julian, Max, Catherine, John, and Francis.

“It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

 

Please join me in this special lighting ceremony, from wherever you read, to keep the light of remembrance aflame, and honor the hearts of their grieving parents and families.  #waveoflight

 

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” ~ Buddha

 

Lighting Hope with a Wave of Light Across the Globe

15 Saturday Oct 2016

Posted by purdywords in Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Past, Peace, Perspective, Tough days, Wave of Light

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Miscarriage, National Pregnancy amd Infant Loss Awareness Day 2016, October 15th, Wave of Light 2016

God puts rainbows in the clouds so that each of us – in the dreariest and most dreaded moments – can see a possibility of hope. ~Maya Angelou 

In loving memory of all our children gone too soon. They remain forever in our hearts. 


#waveoflight2016

On Miscarriage, Sharing your Grief, and your Right to Remember

03 Monday Oct 2016

Posted by purdywords in Love, Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges

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Challenges, Grief, Grieving, Love, Memories, Miscarriage, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, Peace, Personal growth, Perspective

Sweet little flower of heavenly birth, you were too fair to bloom on earth. ~ Author Unknown

 

Miscarriage is quite a unique type of death experience. It haunts your mind and heart in ways that are difficult to put aside. Not only are you losing a child and the dream of that little person, but you often never know what went wrong to cause the child’s life to end so soon. The grief process after a miscarriage can be a lonely, arduous time.

Although you might feel like hiding away, try to share the truth of your pain with those closest to you. Reach out and be honest, raw, and open about what it is like to lose a child so suddenly. What I have learned over the years is that no one truly understands what you are going through—especially the incredible strength miscarriage and baby loss asks and takes from you—unless the person has experienced the same type of trauma, themselves. You can still try, though. It is worthwhile to include your loved ones in your grieving process, if only to honor the life of the child you grieve for so desperately.

At first, the well-meaning friends and family you open up to might be uncomfortable with the level and intensity of your sadness as you grieve for the child you will never see, hold, nurse, nor raise. They may try to comfort you with what feels like unsympathetic comments such as:

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” (Sorry, but this life I carried inside, actually did mean something to us. It was our child.)

“It wasn’t really a baby yet, anyway.” (As if a pregnancy test and a beating heart on a screen one day, but gone the next, can be denied.)

“Don’t worry, you’ll get pregnant again soon!” (As if they know this for certain—they don’t. And even if you do become pregnant soon after your loss, the next child will never replace the love and dream you had for the child that never lived.)

Feel free to tell your loved ones the truth—that you are grieving because you just lost a child. Explain that the heartache you feel is over all the hope and dreams you had, but have gone away. Gently inform that just because the baby hadn’t been born at an age when they had a fighting chance to live, his life still had meaning.

Invite your family and friends to join you on your grievous journey so they can reach a clearer understanding of miscarriage and baby loss. Allowing these loved ones to hold your hand along the way will open up their eyes and minds to the right and privilege that is yours alone to honor and cherish your miscarried babies in any compelling way, and how you’ll forever carry their memory imprinted on your heart.

 

How have your family and friends helped or hindered your ability to grieve a miscarriage? 

The Insurmountable Grief of Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Death

02 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by purdywords in Infertility, Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Wave of Light

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Baby Loss, Challenges, Grief, Healing, Love, Marriage, Memories, Miscarriage, National Infant and Baby Loss Memorial, Parenting, Peace, Perspective, The Past, Writing

“Some people say it is a shame. Others even imply that it would have been better if the baby had never been created. But the short time I had with my child is precious to me. It is painful to me, but I still wouldn’t wish it away. I prayed that God would bless us with a baby. Each child is a gift, and I am proud that we cooperated with God in the creation of a new soul for all eternity. Although not with me, my baby lives.”
― Christine O’Keeffe Lafser, An Empty Cradle, a Full Heart: Reflections for Mothers and Fathers after Miscarriage, Stillbirth, or Infant Death

 

In America during the month of October, advocacy campaigns support a list of worthy national causes, including those meant to raise awareness and support for the early detection of breast cancer, anti-bullying attempts, and domestic violence prevention. Though, a campaign in October that reaches the closest to my heart is the one that was deemed integral to supporting mothers and fathers devastated by pregnancy and baby loss.

In an effort to do my part to support those grieving the loss of a baby, as I have suffered six times before, I will be devoting my blog posts this month of October to spreading awareness and support. (Please feel free to read some of my blog posts and what I’ve shared in the past about my miscarriage experiences.) The blog posts I feel compelled to share this month will reflect on my personal story of miscarriage: how each of my baby losses have shaped, molded, and changed me; how The Husband and I have coped over the years with so many losses; how we have chosen to honor each of our angel babies; and what the grieving feels and looks like now.

My greatest hope for October is that you will join me in spreading awareness of pregnancy and baby loss, perhaps by lending your support to those suffering this insurmountable pain, and honoring all the children that gained their angels’ wings before their precious feet ever touched the ground. Thank you, gentle and kind readers.

Have you suffered a miscarriage or experienced the loss of a baby? What support do you wish you had during that time of loss and grief? Does sharing your story—through writing, creating art,  talking about the experience, or honoring your child(ren)in a special way—help at all?

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