Time heals all wounds?
Tell that to the gaping hole in my heart that is shaped like my son. Tell that to the pain I feel, emanating from that wound. My wound sure hurts and the pain hasn’t lessened with time.
Give birth to and hold your dead baby and then say that to me again. I bet you wouldn’t be able to.
Everything happens for a reason?
Tell that to my children when they ask what happened to their brother. I don’t doubt that everything happens for a reason because if it didn’t, then that would mean my son died for nothing.
Do me a favor, kiss your baby on their already cold forehead and tell them you are sorry for failing them and then see if you can say that to me.
You are young. You will have another baby.
Will I? Perhaps, but one never knows what God has in store. Sometimes you can’t have another.
To The Mom Who Isn’t Sure She Wants A Rainbow Baby
How do you think that makes that person feel when you blatantly point out their inability to ever give life again? Struggle with infertility. Lose your uterus because of previous complications and see if you can say that to someone ever again.
He’s in a better place and his suffering is over.
Really? You really think that there is any better place than in his mother’s arms, in our lives and growing into the little boy he should be today?
How about you look at your kids and tell me which one you could give to God. You know, to be in a better place and not suffering. I bet that statement would never again cross your lips.
Oh, something was wrong with him? See? The body has ways of dealing with that. It knew how to fix the problem.
My son was a problem that the body had to get rid of? My body actually told the cord to strangle my child in my womb?
I’ll agree that the human body is a miraculous and marvelous thing but I don’t think it sent my uterus that memo. My child was never a problem.
Tell me something. When your child has problems do you think your body should have taken care of the issue?
Exactly.
Did your child ever take a breath outside of the womb? No? Oh good! That means his soul wasn’t even there yet. Yes, someone actually said this to me.
While I understand that this may have been her belief, it’s not mine. Have some respect for someone’s spiritual beliefs. I personally don’t agree and really would have preferred not to have been told this.
You should be grateful for the kids you do have and focus on them. While I do agree with this statement, I also disagree. My children are ALL my children, whether alive or dead.
My dead son doesn’t cease to exist simply because he wasn’t born alive. He is still my child and I am still his mother and will honor him every year.
Yes, I will celebrate his birth, even if he entered the world silently. He still entered this world by me giving birth to him.
Plan a funeral and cremation for your baby the day after he is born and tell me again how grateful I should be for my living kids.
I can guarantee that not only would you be even more grateful for your living children but you’d still be grateful for the one who passed away. You would be grateful for whatever time you could spend with them.
Walk into a chapel with your dead child’s casket sitting 15 steps in front of you and tell me how grateful you’d be for the lives of your living children because there is nothing in this world you would be more grateful for than the life of your kids. I can guarantee that.
So, go through that and see how utterly stupid that statement is.
It’s been long enough. You should be over this by now. Really? You really said that to me? Unless you’ve been through this, you have no right to say such a thing to me.
If You Don’t Know How To Support Us, Just Show Up
The ashes of my dead child, along with my dreams of who he would be are resting in my home. Do you think you could get over it that quickly?
Do me a favor – give birth to your baby and then say goodbye to them on the same day. See how well that sits with you. See if you could “get over” that. Have your child’s life end and see if you could ignore that.
What is wrong with celebrating his existence? Why do we have to forget him? Why are you now ignoring me and hostile when I bring him up. It must make you uncomfortable.
How about you go through it and see just how uncomfortable that is, then add the pressure of getting over your child and not burdening others with such sadness and see how lonely you feel in your loss.
You never get over the loss of your child.
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Melinda Gordon-Lichioveri is a 39-year-old mother of three from Long Island, NY. She lost her middle son, Evan Robert, to a cord accident on 11/11/13. With every year that passes and with every breath in her body, she lives for her children, even the one she lost. She strives every day to bring awareness to the baby loss community and to honor her baby boy.
Melinda like usual you are doing Evan proud. You are truly one of the strongest and most dedicated mothers I have ever meet. Love you!
Why is it that people feel the need to expect of you what they could never actually do, feel, or imagine for themselves.
I read this article and found my heart break with every sentence all over again.
I lost my boy at 24 weeks due to an incompetent cervix. He was born two days after my premature labor started. And died 5 hours & 1 minute after he was born. Every fiber of my being was torn away from my existence when I lost him. But I had to be strong and accept that, “that is what God wanted.” “He is better off.” “How would life be like to raise a child like that?” And countless other meaningless, heartless, cruel, painful words meant to console. 23 years later . . . I’m still a mess.
I wrote this letter at the behest of a grief Counselor. I try to remember the words but it is not so easy. I’d like to share it:
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My Dear Son, Jeries,
I need you to know that you were so loved and so very much desired. Your father and I loved each other deeply and you were an extension of our love. There is so much I’ve wanted for you. So much I dreamed for you. So much I planned for you. You were gratefully put in our lives and so unfairly ripped away from us too soon. I have mourned you for so long, not knowing how to let you go, that I have become only a shell of my former self. I have not allowed myself to live my life and flourish as I should have since you left me. I’ve questioned every moment of that fateful Saturday morning, and the week preceding it, not willing to accept that there was nothing I could do to keep you from leaving me. I blamed myself for not being strong enough to help carry you along to a healthy term in the beginning of your life. You were everything I ever wanted at that moment and, to my dismay, there was nothing I could do to change the course of your tragic outcome.
I have been struggling with my grief for over 18 years now, letting it engulf me to the point of incapacity. I hurt to the point of numbness and disregard. Disregard for myself, my health and my worth. Disregard for your father and your younger brothers’ love and companionship. Disregard for everything meaningful in life.
In this past year, I’ve struggled to find answers to the “Why’s” and “What If’s” of my life up until now. I’ve just learned to accept that those answers do not need to be as important as they once were. I’ve learned to grown through my pain and grief as I’ve learned to understand that I must accept what I cannot change. Learned that I am not at fault for what happened to you. Learned that your life had a purpose to fill in mine. You were not ready to live in this world, but needed to come to me for a reason that I have not yet discovered. That you had to go to a higher place in order to be the angel that you were meant to be. I need to let you rest in the peace that you deserve, and allow myself to find the peace to go on, knowing that you will always be a part of me, even if not by my side.
There is so much I need to make up for, so much I’ve neglected, so much I’ve not allowed myself to appreciate. I need to find my world and begin to live in it. I need to learn to bask in the happiness that you, your father, and your brothers have endowed me with. I need to find my true self, and to learn to take care of, and love her unconditionally. I need to learn to be proud of the mother that I know I am. Be proud of the beautiful, loving wife that my husband is grateful for. Be proud of the incredible sister, the devoted daughter, the true friend that I’ve become over my lifetime. But most of all, I need to be proud of the incredible woman that I’ve grown to be.
Dearest Jeries: I need to let you go, my sweet angel. You are always part of me, and always will be. But I need to live my life with no more regrets, no more sorrow, no more pain. And the only way that will be possible for me is to give you peace and love you with my life full of happiness, love and serenity.
Good bye, my sweet Angel, until we meet again.
I love you with all my heart.
Always & Forever
Mom
Blessed be
Muna,
I’m so sorry that your son passed away. There is no greater pain and I can feel your love from the beautifully written letter that you wrote to him. I appreciate what you said and that you shared this letter. I remember writing one to my son as well and putting it in his casket. It helps to put it all in writing.
Much love and healing to my fellow loss mom.
Melinda