After Hailey passed, so many people reached out to us. It is overwhelming to think back on her visitation and funeral. Hundreds, literally hundreds, came to show their love and support for our little family. What has been a blessing that we weren't expecting, was meeting people who have experienced what we were experiencing. A couple of days after H passed, someone I knew from high school messaged me on Facebook and explained that her older sister had lost their infant son as well. She offered to connect us when I was ready to talk. This small act of kindness led to one of the greatest supports I have had. We met Meg for coffee and found that our stories were very similar. She was able to express feelings that she had at the beginning that were exactly what we were experiencing at that moment! It was so nice to be able to talk to someone who understood. It was also nice to see someone who has been on this journey and come out on top. It gave us hope for our future.
Meg introduced us to a group called Compassionate Friends. It is a world wide group of parents and grandparents who have lost a child. We went to our first meeting in October. Everything was so fresh and painful. So many tears were cried that night, not just by us, but others crying for us. Our pain made their pain of loosing their child fresh again. One of the women there, Tracy, was Meg's biggest support. Tracy lost her infant son to an undiagnosed heart defect. She is such a model of strength. She and her family do so much to keep her son's memory alive...she's even writing a children's book! A lot of the inspiration for starting this blog came from Tracy. A few months back, I was reading her blog and she posted this excerpt from a book that a friend had shared with her. I'm passing it along on my blog just in case there is a warrior momma out there who needs a little boost on this moment in her journey.
You Are the Mother of All Mothers By: Angela Miller
I have to tell you this.
You didn’t fail. Not even a little.
You are not a horrible mother.
You didn’t choose this. You didn’t want this to happen. You didn’t do anything wrong. It just happened. To you. Despite your begging, pleading, praying, hoping against all hope it would not. Even though everything within you was screaming no, no, no, no, no.
God didn’t do this to punish you, smite you, or to teach you a lesson. That is not God’s way. You could not have prevented this if you tried harder, prayed harder, or were a “better” person. Nor if you ate better, loved harder, yoga-ed more, did x, y, or z to the nth degree—fill in the blank with any other lie your mind devises. You could not have prevented this even if you could have predicted the future like no one can.No, there is nothing more you could have done. You did everything you possibly could have. And you are the best mother there is because you would have done absolutely anything to keep your child alive. To breathe your last breath instead. To choose the pain all over again just to spend one more minute together. That is the ultimate kind of love. You are the ultimate kind of mother.
So wash your hands of any naysayers, betrayers, or those who sprinted in the other direction when you needed them most. Wash your hands of the people who may have falsely judged you, ostracized you, or stigmatized you because of what happened to you. Wash your hands of anyone who has made you feel less than by questioning everything you did or didn’t do. Anyone whose words or looks have implied this was somehow your fault.This was not your fault. This will never be your fault, no matter how many different ways someone tries to tell you it was.
Especially if that someone happens to be you. Sometimes it’s not what others are saying that keeps you shackled in shame. Sometimes you adopt others’ misguided opinions and assumptions. Sometimes it’s your own inner voice that shoves you into the darkest corner of despair, like an abuser, telling you over and over and over again you failed as a mother. Convincing you if only this and what if that, it never would have happened. Saying you coulda, shoulda done this or that so your child would not have died. That is a lie of the sickest kind. Do not believe it, not even for a second. Do not let it sink into your bones. Do not let it smother that beautiful, beautiful light of yours.Instead, breathe in this truth with every part of yourself: You are the best damn mother in the entire world. No one else could do what you do. No one else could ever mother your child as well as you can, as well as you are. No one else could let your child’s love and light shine through the way you do. No one else could mother your dead child as bravely. No one else could carry this unrelenting burden as courageously. It is the heaviest, most torturous burden there is.
There is no one, no one, no one who could ever, ever replace you. No one. You were chosen to be your child’s mother. Yes—chosen. And no one could parent your child better in life or in death than you do. You have within you a sacred strength.You are the mother of all mothers.
So breathe, mama, keep breathing. Believe, mama, keep believing. Fight, mama, keep fighting for this truth to uproot the lies in your heart—you didn’t fail. Not even a little.
For whatever it’s worth, I see you. I hear your guttural sobs. I feel your ache deep inside my bones. And it doesn’t make me uncomfortable to put my fingers as a makeshift Band-Aid over the gaping hole in your heart until the scabs come, if and when they do.
It takes invincible strength to moth a child you can no longer hold, see, touch, or hear. You are a superhero mama. I see you fall down and get up, fall down and get up, over and over again. I notice the grit and guts it takes to pry yourself out of bed every single day and force your bloodied feet to stand up and keep walking. I see you walking this path of life you’ve been given, where every breath and step apart from your child is a physical, emotional, and spiritual battleground. A fight for your own survival. A fight to quiet the insidious lies.
But the truth is, you haven’t failed at all. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
You are the mother of all mothers.
Truly, the most inspiring, courageous, loving mother there is—a warrior mama through and through.
For even in death, you lovingly mother your precious child still.
Love,
Mary
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