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If you know someone who has lost a child and you’re afraid to mention them because you think you’ll make them sad by reminding them the child died…they didn’t forget they died.  You’re not reminding them. What you’re reminding them is that YOU remember they lived and that’s a GREAT, GREAT gift.

~ Elizabeth Edwards

I just came across this link that a friend, who has also lost a baby, sent to me:

http://starlegacyfoundation.org/information-for-family-and-friends/

Here are a few of the most helpful points:

1. Don’t forget the father.  In the case of a stillbirth, the mother must also recover physically from the delivery.  It can be easy to focus on her physical healing and forget that fathers hurt just as much.  Also, fathers may feel pressure to be strong for the mother – help him to grieve as well.

(Our very loved counselor, Cyndi Mesmer, gave Ryan and I matching bracelets that say “Tirzah Catherine”… that was very special, because that was the first time I think that Ryan felt specifically remembered in his grieving)

2. Acknowledge that this baby is a loved member of this family.

3. Let the family know you remember their child on special dates: anticipated due date, anniversary of birth day, holidays, etc. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are especially painful.

4. Remember them and their child in the months and years to come.  It doesn’t matter how much time has passed – they still love and miss their child daily.

5. Having subsequent children does not replace or take away the love for the child who has passed. These parents have been forever changed by the experiences they have had – just as if their child had lived.

6. Don’t expect them to be the same people they were before they became pregnant.  Accept them for who they are now and love the new person who has to be the parent of a heavenly child.

Most of all – remember that hugs and prayers go a long way.

If you know someone who has lost a child and you’re afraid to mention them because you think you’ll make them sad by reminding them the child died…they didn’t forget they died.  You’re not reminding them. What you’re reminding them is that YOU remember they lived and that’s a GREAT, GREAT gift.

~ Elizabeth Edwards

I recently read this blog post: “To Weep with those who weep.” …. It is written by a man, Luke Parrott, whose sister Lindsey had 2 terminal pregnancies in 15 months. Each baby girl, lived 10-12 hours before passing away. I think that his words are VERY MUCH NECESSARY.  (below is an excerpt, emphases mine, and the link to the full post is at the bottom). :

There is one shared experience of the entire human race that should unite us but deeply divides us all.  It is a socio-emotional factor.  It is the common experience of pain.  Pain can be an invitation to embrace others but it is more commonly used as a way of distancing.

It wasn’t until I watched my own sister and brother-in-law walk through two terminal pregnancies in the last 20 months, that I have felt the anguish of pain, suffering, and death.  I have held my only two nieces in my arms for only a few minutes each.  I have only held them both two times.  Once when they were full of life.  Once when they had passed on to death.

In this grief of my own, I have become deeply sensitized to the grief of others.  All pain and suffering is different for each human.  We cannot really know what the other is experiencing.  But our pain feels the same.  Our grief rips us both apart inside.  Our tears are the same.

Nothing is more painful for a grieving heart than to experience it alone.  And nothing is more painful for a grieving heart than to see others distance themselves from your pain.  What pain needs is very simple:  presence.  And that presence does not need any words.  It just needs to share in the pain.

I have now learned that when I hear pain, I choose to listen.  When I hear suffering, I want to be present.  When I observe grief, I want to partake.  Because that is what I have needed in my life during this season.  I don’t want to sleep through someone else’s suffering.  I want to be there with them.  Fully present.  Weeping as well.

Jesus weeps with us in our pain as he did with Mary.  He invites us to weep with Him.  And as we weep with Him, we realize we are weeping also with those who are in pain.  Those who suffer.  Those in grief.  To follow Jesus is to enter suffering.  It is to be present in pain.  It is to stand in solidarity with the one who weeps.  To ‘weep with those who weep’ is to weep with Jesus himself.

I wonder if we can only find unity in our humanity if we are willing to weep together.  To enter one another’s pain.  I think my country and our world needs this more than ever now.  Do we have the courage and vulnerability to enter the pain of others (even if we don’t understand it), grieve together, and allow that pain to be transformed into something new—for both of us?

http://vaporandmist.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/to-weep-with-those-who-weep/comment-page-1/#comment-2167

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

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A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,800 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 30 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

My Friend Nancy
When I first came to Calvary Baptist Church in Urbana IL, and sat in the wooden pew, in the second row, and looked up at the large wooden cross in the center, and sang the old hymns, and listed to Pastor Gritton preach, I had this peaceful feeling of being at home. My brother had this funny phrase “Are you grinnin’ with Gritton?”
And I remember that first Sunday when I met Nancy Miller, an older lady, a “farmer’s wife” as she called herself, and she gave me a hug, which I desperately needed at that moment. And after that, we would sit together every service, and many times she would hold my hand during the service and would always hug me. She and her husband would take me out to eat every Sunday as well. We had several adventures, Nancy and I… exploring the Amish country… visiting an Amish church, making friends with an Amish lady also named Catherine… and later visiting Catherine’s home and riding in her buggy.
Nany and I had hardly anything in common. She was in her 60s or 70s, had about a sixth grade education, and grew up near the Amish farm country of Arthur, Illinois. She had three husbands in her life time. And here I was, a suburban, single ,20-something- year- old, veterinary student. But I learned so much from her… mostly about love and friendship. She was a living picture of God’s love to me… which I didn’t deserve from her or from God… her love for me was simple… she loved me simply because I needed to be loved. She didn’t care about my education or knowledge or abilities… it didn’t mean anything to her. She didn’t seem to notice when I was tired, and callous, or irritable, or a poor listener… or when my attempts to love and relate to her were clumsy and awkward. She loved me regardless of what I did or didn’t do, it was always the same.
It’s just about the biggest regret of my life so far that I’ve lost touch with her. It is a dream of mine, to hold her hand again in this life time. I *know* I will in the next.

(I wrote this in 2010… and I still haven’t seen Nancy, and still hope to… My life has kind of been on 80 miles an hour it feels like for many years!)

Dear Tirzah,

You are the only “you” this world will ever know, And God made you to show His glory and His beauty in a unique and special way, that only you  can do. Just like your little finger prints and foot prints are yours alone- You have left a unique mark on this world. A mark that God had designed and planned just for you.

God extended His creative power and majesty in forming every detail of your little body- your face, your little fingers, the color of your beautiful red hair. And He delighted in every detail as He formed you and sang over you- a lullaby for you alone. And He called you: “Arise, my love…”, and you heard His voice and followed: “I am my Beloved’s and He is mine”…  And now He walks with you and talks with you, and tells you that you are His own.

My sweet Tirzah, He just couldn’t wait for you because you are so beautiful. And if I had a garden, wouldn’t I give my Lord the most beautiful rose of the garden? How could I give Him any less than you?

You were just so close, so close to being here with us. But God was watching over His will to perform it.

I just want to learn everything through your life that I can. To be still before the Lord and know that “My Beloved is mine, and I am His.” To follow my calling from the Lord, with simple obedience- as you did. Just ask the Lord, along with me, for your mommy to have a double portion of the Lord’s grace and presence. “Mercy drops round us are falling, but for the showers we plead.”  People keep telling your mommy that she’s strong, but really I’m not at all- any strength I have is directly from the Lord- you know that I know! ;o)

And may the Lord teach me to be “content with weaknesses.. hardships.. and calamities”.. so that His power may rest upon me- For His sake, so that the Lord only would be glorified. ( 2 Corinthians 12)

I am so weak Tirzah, and I am continually tempted to run into distraction- but you keep reminding your Mommy to run to the Lord instead.

In Him my faith has found a resting place… and soon my faith shall be made sight, and in the fullness of His presence, together with you, and all the saints… my heart looks for that day, and Tirzah, I rejoice with you as I wait.

This passage in James 1:3-4 scares me: “.. For when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything.” (New Living Translation)  It’s this word: anything that scares me. It just does.

It feels wrong, maybe shameful to admit this. I know it sounds like doubt.

But in the midst of this fear, my heart and soul cries out to God: “I believe!! Help Thou my unbelief!!”

Aren’t those similar to the words I cried out several years ago: “I am powerless to sustain even my own faith- I need YOU Lord to pour faith into my heart and sustain me!”

So this word: anything.

It’s the realization that life will bring more pain. There is no bargaining with God. It’s not true that since He has Tirzah I am now entitled to a smooth road. Even though I feel like I want it to be true: “God, since you have Tirzah, now I get a healthy baby next and no more deaths. And I get to keep Jeremiah and Ryan.”

But the truth is: I don’t know God’s plan… And. Even. If. He calls Jeremiah away. He is still good.

Is this what it means to hold life with an open hand? To hold my most precious loved ones loosely. They *are* the Lord’s.

And what can I do but fall on my face before the Lord and worship?

Now more than ever I have a sense of the majesty of God.

This majesty calls forth the *Highest* praise.

“The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; *blessed* be the name of the LORD.” ~ Job 1:21

And I say with this ancient man: “ … I, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored him who lives forever, for his dominion is an everlasting dominion,…  and he does according to his will among the host of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth; and none can stay his hand or say to him, “What have you done?”  (Daniel 4:34-35)

I lay my hand over my mouth- and fall on my face.

*This* is Holy Ground. This place of grief. This moment when Tirzah was called away. This Holy Moment.

I

…but I went away into Arabia~ Galatians 1:17

So *this*, this desert of grief is my Arabia…

My life verse is Jeremiah 2:2: Thus says the LORD, “I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride, how you followed me in the wilderness, in a land not sown.

I love this verse. I’ve also tried to escape it as *my* verse. Before all this. I’m not sure why. But it seems like I was always looking for a different *life* verse. Even though the Lord clearly gave me this one. I guess I was running from the wilderness. The idea scared me. But now I’m here and there is no running. Just tears. And hope. Painful hope.

Right now it is most painful to look back at the moment my doctor put the heart monitor on my abdomen and found no heart beat. At that time my mind was reeling- all I could think was- “We have to trust God. ”  And then trying desperately to hold Ryan together. I was afraid I would loose him too. And then phone calls i had to make to family and friends. To Mom, to Sara, to Janet- how did I manage to say the words “we lost her”. I couldn’t say the words dead or died then.

My whole body clenches.

This is the sting of death.

And it feels like it’s choking me and squeezing the breath from my lungs.

Am i to be pitied most of all??

Is my faith in vain??

“If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied…And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile…”

“But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead… For as by a man (Adam) came death, by a man (Jesus) has come also the resurrection of the dead….The last enemy to be destroyed is death. For “God has put all things in subjection under his feet.”