Ten years is a long, long time. A decade is a great milestone in the passage of our time here on Earth. And, while on most days of the year I couldn’t tell you what I was precisely doing ten years prior, today is one that left a little hole on my heart that I am quite sure will never truly heal. On November 22, 2007, I delivered my second son, Matthew, and he was stillborn. It was Thanksgiving day.
I’ve shared this story every year on his birthday for two real reasons. One because I could never think of anything else to write about on November 22. That one day immeasurably changed me – my life, my priorities, my heart and my family. And two, because I hope above all hopes that my story and struggle can reach someone else when they find themselves in the depths of despair feeling like they may never again be normal or whole again.
What I wanted more than anything in the entire world that day was to be able to talk to someone – anyone – that had walked my path. I never found that person. When I started writing Dixie Delights I knew that it would give me a platform – if just one day a year – to tell the world that I am here to share my story, talk on the phone, read your words of pain, offer a hug and be able to honestly look you in the eye and tell you that you can overcome this.
I’ve talked to more of you than I ever would have wished to have to talked to for this reason over the years. But, I realize that there are probably so many more people out there that could never approach a stranger with something so personal. Or, they are like me in the middle of the night, deep in labor with a child that won’t be born alive, and are searching for a similar story – just to know what to expect and to maybe help make some of the decisions that will all quickly come. I am going to share these thoughts that are only based on my personal experience. I am certainly no expert so take them for what they are worth.
Hold your baby. You only get these few precious moments or hours. Do not rush them because you can never, ever get them back. When you turn your child over to the doctors and nurses it is over.
Name your baby. You will want to be able to refer to your angel baby by name. It was very close to Christmas and I still have a hand full of ornaments on my tree that bear his name.
Have your baby blessed. If it is important to you, have a priest or person from your faith come bless and pray for your child. Our doctor is Jewish and a man of great faith. Having him pray for us and our baby alongside a Catholic priest was something I won’t ever forget.
Take pictures. It may seem morbid and you may never, ever choose to look at them again, but you won’t have the chance later. I have pictures of Matthew, of me holding him, of Honey holding him, and of the three of us. These are the most priceless treasures that I own. Truly. I can’t remember the last time I looked at them, and I have will probably never show them to anyone, but I know they are there. And, one day, when my memory fades I know that I will have them if I need them.
Save everything. Put together a memory box with your hospital bracelet, with the blanket they will wrap your baby in, his footprints, a lock of his hair, and the cards you received before and after. Print off emails and put them in the box. If you are like me, you also already have a few things for your baby – a homecoming outfit or a monogrammed bib. Save that too. Print pictures of your growing belly and of your “we’re pregnant” announcements. Just save everything because these meager things will be all you will have outside of your memories.
Write down everything. My thoughts are so crazy from that time but I wrote every one down and I have those in my box.
Get the autopsy. If it isn’t evident why your child was stillborn, get the autopsy. We did and it revealed an anomaly in my health that, with treatment, allowed me to go on to have Whit. There are no second chances here.
Bury, cremate or donate? This is a very personal decision that we were not equipped for or prepared to make. We decided not to bury him because we had (and still do not have) no idea where we would one day end up ourselves. We couldn’t commit to a cemetery. We didn’t cremate because I didn’t think I could bear to keep his ashes around and again, I had no idea where I would bury them. In the end, we donated his tiny, perfect little body to research at Emory. It made us feel like he was making his own tiny footprint on the world in that way.
When you come back home, understand that your spouse may not grieve the way that you grieve. You may feel like he doesn’t grieve at all. Honey was just as heartbroken as me, but he didn’t know Matthew the way I did and I don’t think he ever felt like he wouldn’t come back from this the way I did. Remember that only YOU truly know this child that you have carried in your womb and nurtured. And you might feel like you are the only one walking the world in such deep sorry while everything else around you quickly returns to normal. I think this is normal, it was for me.
Try to find solace in knowing that while your baby lived an incredibly short life, it was one filled wholly with love, joy, wonder and adoration. Your child never hurt, never wanted, never knew meanness or anger. They only knew the love of their mother…. you.
If you have other children at home, tell them what happened. John was only two and I know he really had no true understanding of Matthew at the time. But, over the years at this time of the year I do inevitably get sad. I dread Thanksgiving. I feel so incredibly thankful most every other day of the year but on Thanksgiving I feel sad. My boys know this. They’ve seen my cry for a brother they never knew and, quite honestly, have likely never missed. They’ve also seen me rely on their father, God and loved ones when the going gets rough.
When you lose a child I believe you stand at one of the greatest forks in the road. There are two paths and only you can choose the one you take. Your loss can become your crutch – your reason for why everything is so hard, so incomplete, so not how you imagined your life. Or your loss can become your light. Matthew changed me more than one one event in my entire life.
Every year on November 22 I light up the house with Christmas. Ten years ago doing this was one tiny bright spot in a sea of dark, and so it is our tradition. My sadness over the loss of Matthew has turned to gratefulness and the hole in my heart has become smaller with every passing year. His short little life so incredibly changed the way I live and parent. I am SO blessed to have my boys, I am SO humbled to be their mother, and I try SO hard to show them every single minute of every single day how much I love them. We really have such a short time with ALL of our children in the grand scheme of life and I never want to look back on these days with regret.
I want all of you that have lost a little one to know that you are in my thoughts and prayers, especially today.
Until I meet my middle son again, I will spend my time trying to fill the days of the two little boys I was able to bring home with smiles, laughter, and unconditional love.
My cup runneth over.
DIXIE DELIGHTS DELIVERED
I’ve been thinking of you today, sweet friend, and you are in my prayers.xoxo
Thank you, as always
Warm hugs & thoughts to you on this day Amanda, you always write this post so beautifully. I have been a happy reader of yours for a number of years now, I love all the decorating, sweet parties, Disney trips and Lilly P you share with us, but most of all you shine as a Mother. You seem to truly make the most of every moment you have with your boys. You inspire me to be a better Mommy too. I have 2 angel babies myself. Happy Holidays to your family :-)
XOXO,
Lindsey
Being a mother is everything. I didn’t know you had two angels. So many women do. Love and hugs to you. <3
Every year on this day, you make me weep at your words. Please know that this heartbreaking story you share, relunctantly but beautifully, IS making a difference in my wounded heart. I pray for you and your family on this day. You are a blessing, Amanda. Thank you!
I hope that it is helping someone, somewhere. Thank you SO much! xo
You and I have never met, but you are in my thoughts and prayers today. I have never (and will never) know this particular type of pain, yet your words made me cry. I can not pretend to know what you are going through, but I can see how an event like this would make you want to love your boys with all of your heart and soul. Thank you for sharing this. I am sure that you helped at least one woman experiencing the same type of pain and sorrow.
Thank you so much. <3
Your heart is beautiful, Amanda and God holds precious Matthew in his arms. His love radiates in all the twinkling stars across the land and in the evening sky.
May you and your family be blessed with peace today and always. I just turned my small tree on for you, filled with vintage ornaments from my childhood. It is a treasure. As are you.
I hope that he does. And thank you so so much for turning on your tree for us. You are always so very loving and kind. xo
I have been thinking about you over the last month. You know how I feel about you and what you mean to me. This was a great post and I can say I’ve done all of this! It does matter. We had our priest come to our hospital room at midnight. He baptized Cooper. I will always remember the nurses and doctors standing around us holding hands and praying with us and our priest. Even then I knew that moment was going to mean more later.
Thinking of you all. Love to you.
xoxo
Nicole
Your email meant the world to me a few weeks ago. xo
Once again, a beautifully written tribute to Matthew. You make me cry every year and I can only imagine the pain you have felt over the years. I am sure your advice will be able to help a parent in a similar situation. Your kind words and your caring heart are a gift to us all. Bless you and your sweet family. You continue to inspire us all to be better parents.
xo Shelley
I hope so much that it will reach someone that needs it. xo
I know this sounds strange, but I look forward to reading your Matthew post each year. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage at 11 weeks. I console myself by knowing that my daughter was born fifteen months later because that baby was lost. Thank you for your sweet, beautiful, heart-felt message. I share a few tears with you and all the other mothers who have felt that most powerful sadness. ❤️
It isn’t strange at all! I feel the same way about Whit.
The posts about Matthew always make me cry but also remind me to appreciate my little boy even on the hard days. Thinking of you <3
Yes, we have hard days too. But I always go to bed thankful and try to put them to bed happy and knowing they are so loved. <3
I said a prayer for you and Matthew when I hung the little blue angel on our vintage tree. I like to think my sweet MIL, who passed in March, is rocking a sweet angel baby tonight.
I love that you do this. And, yes, I hope that she is. <3
Amanda, it speaks volumes about your heart that you can write such a beautiful post about such a devastating loss. I’m just so sorry. I literally have no words. Even though we have never met, I can say with certainty that Matthew and his brothers are beyond blessed to have you for their mother. I will pray for you today. XO
Thank you so very much!
Thank you for sharing Matthew’s story. I know what a blessing children are, even our angels.
Yes, they surely are.
I’ve read your story several times and I cry each time reading your words of love for a child lost. So thankful for our Heavenly fathers love and Grace. Praying for your sweet family.
Thank you so much!
You are so brave and sweet to share all of this. Lots of extra love to you today.
Thank you Amy <3
Amanda, your sharing the story of Matthew with us always makes me love you even more. You are a wonderful mother and are so blessed with your boys. God bless you and your sweet family and Matthew, your angel in Heaven. Sending lots of love and prayers from South Carolina.
Much Love,
Judy
Amanda – Every year, you remind me of your strength and your empathy. Sending love to you today. Thank you for sharing your story with us. Today, and always.
Amanda,
I thought of you today and offered up a prayer for both you and Matthew. I think it is amazing how Matthew’s light lives on through you and so many other’s you touch and inspire in various ways via the blog. His sweet soul was only here for a short while but had such impact and no doubt is with you still. ?
Thinking of you and your Matthew. Even though we lost our “Matthews” under different circumstances and different ages, it was in the fall so when this time of year rolls around I say a prayer for you and hope that your broken heart is a little less painful on Thanksgiving day.
Since the first year I read your post about Matthew, I think of you Thanksgiving Day and say a prayer for you. I lost my brother when I was in high school and my family keeps my brother’s memory alive by talking about the fun times with him. I love how you always share your love of Matthew with us. I love that you share his story to help others. I pray that sharing helps heal your heart as well.
I am so sorry for your loss. I admire you so much and this was such a beautiful post. I have had three miscarriages in between each of my children. I cannot imagine going through the hell that you endured. Your words about the fork in the road remind me to look at all the light in my life and cherish every second. Thank you, Amanda.