A Second Child Remembered

On this blog I have reflected quite a bit on being mother to my daughter, C, so much so it may seem like she is my only child.  This is not the case however.  I do have another child, one that I think about quite a bit this time of year. That child’s name is Hope. It was around mid April five years ago that I found out I was pregnant for the second time. Only a short few months later in July I found out my child was not going to live to birth. I had to say good-bye and joined the ranks of bereaved mothers.

The last five years have not always been an easy journey. I have struggled to figure out how I define myself as a mother. I struggled with the question of how many kids do you have. I have looked into the face of grief and difficult decisions. In the midst of all of this I had to keep working as a chaplain. I continued to have to put aside my own grief to minister to the grief of others. I shared the whole of my grief with only a very chosen few who I knew would not judge me and could handle the fullness of my struggle. For a long time it was a lonely place to be, and still is lonely sometimes.

One thing I have noticed over the last several years is that the issue of perinatal loss comes to the forefront about three times a year, October which is perinatal loss awareness month, Mother’s Day and occasionally around Father’s Day. But really this is not an issue that is dealt with three times a year, it is an issue dealt with daily. Daily, bereaved mothers miss their child(ren) desperately, daily women may feel like a failure because their body betrayed them through infertility or inability to carry a healthy fetus to term. Daily there are little things that remind us our little ones are no longer with us in body, only in memory.

For clergy who also hold the title of bereaved parent the journey can be even harder. Infant dedications/baptisms, “required” attendance at baby showers and so many other events that are attended to around the birth and life of children in our congregations can be reminders of little ones of our own that will not experience these things. We do truly celebrate these events for they are joyful reminders of the miracle of life. It is just that sometimes, depending on where we are in our own grief these events can have a bit of taste of the bittersweet.

In my own chaplaincy I have discovered that being a bereaved mother does give me a unique place at the side of the bereaved mother I may be ministering to. At the bedside I am equiped with a host of pastoral education but also the life education of walking this particular journey myself. “Bereaved Chaplain Mother” is a unique title  I hold and with it the comes the call to enter into this place of ministry in a way few others can. It is in this place that I have walked some very hallowed ground.

Walking through the hallowed ground of grieving Hope’s death, seeking meaning in it and ministering through it has taken me some unexpected places. This journey has had me sharing my story with nurses and nursing students to help them in gaining better understanding in caring for women going through perinatal loss. It has also found me writing. I have never really considered myself a writer, yet the need to share Hope’s story has pushed me to write through the encouragement of colleagues and family. Some of my writing will soon be published.

Writing has become another part of this journey of grief that eases with time but does not really fully go away. It is both scary and freeing to know that Hope’s and my story is being shared with the world. And perhaps adding my voice to the other voices speaking about this issue will continue to provide healing not only to myself but also to others who share this unique grief journey.