This is more like it... the traditional stages are for people with terminal illnesses. This one is much more in tune with my situation. Thank you, B!
1. SHOCK & DENIAL - You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. You may deny the reality of the loss at some level, in order to avoid the pain. Shock provides emotional protection from being overwhelmed all at once. This may last for weeks.
2. PAIN & GUILT - As the shock wears off, it is replaced with the suffering of unbelievable pain. Although excruciating and almost unbearable, it is important that you experience the pain fully, and not hide it, avoid it or escape from it with alcohol or drugs. You may have guilty feelings or remorse over things you did or didn't do with your loved one. Life feels chaotic and scary during this phase.
3. ANGER & BARGAINING - Frustration gives way to anger, and you may lash out and lay unwarranted blame for the death on someone else. Please try to control this, as permanent damage to your relationships may result. This is a time for the release of bottled up emotion. You may rail against fate, questioning "Why me?" You may also try to bargain in vain with the powers that be for a way out of your despair ("I will never drink again if you just bring him back")
4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS - Just when your friends may think you should be getting on with your life, a long period of sad reflection will likely overtake you. This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be "talked out of it" by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving. During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair.
5. THE UPWARD TURN - As you start to adjust to life without your dear one, your life becomes a little calmer and more organized. Your physical symptoms lessen, and your "depression" begins to lift slightly.
6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH - As you become more functional, your mind starts working again, and you will find yourself seeking realistic solutions to problems posed by life without your loved one. You will start to work on practical and financial problems and reconstructing yourself and your life without him or her.
7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE- During this, the last of the seven stages in this grief model, you learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. Acceptance does not necessarily mean instant happiness. Given the pain and turmoil you have experienced, you can never return to the carefree, untroubled YOU that existed before this tragedy. But you will find a way forward. You will start to look forward and actually plan things for the future. Eventually, you will be able to think about your lost loved one without pain; sadness, yes, but the wrenching pain will be gone. You will once again anticipate some good times to come, and yes, even find joy again in the experience of living.
(Pulled from http://www.recover-from-grief.com/7-stages-of-grief.html)
Friday, December 31, 2010
12/31/10 - Stages of Grief?
My uncle reminded me about the stages of grief... Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Yeah... I went through Denial before the labor, and anger after we got home from the hospital. Bargaining would have been pointless so I must have skipped that one. I guess Depression is next. Let's hurry through that one and get to acceptance, shall we?!? The doctor who delivered Logan gave me some medication I can use for pain that will also help with depression if I need it, but I don't want to be numb. Just like the labor, I think I want to feel it all because this is all I get of him. Still, I know I have a family that needs me and I can't just shut down. This isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to a human being, it's just the worst thing that's happened to me. So far. Boy, where's wood when you need it?!? It's a good thing life doesn't come with a preview like in the movies, or we'd never come to earth and live it. Or maybe it does but we just forget, and we come anyways because we could also see the ways we'd learn and grow after the pain subsides. That's the whole point, isn't it?
The nurses at the hospital kept commenting on what a great attitude I was having about everything, like I should write a book on how to cope or something. I'm no expert, that's for sure, and now I know there is so much more grief in life that I was fortunate to be missing out on before. But a gospel perspective definitely helps... when you know that your baby is his spirit and not just his body... when you know where your baby was and where he's gone now and who's watching over him, it's a lot easier to deal with because you know they are fine. Better than fine, I mean who could possibly be a better babysitter than God?!? Just kidding. Sort of. Is it wrong that I can joke about that right now? But seriously, wishing he could stay here with me would be selfish, and by far a more difficult experience for him. Not only that, but I know that he is truly Heavenly Father's child and that I would have just been borrowing him, so I can't feel that anything was stolen from me. I spent the last 4 months hoping and planning and thinking about my future with this baby and now it will take some time to let go of those thoughts and refocus on my new present and future. I can do that.
12/31/10 - The day after
We got home from the hospital around dinnertime yesterday, and thank you for sweet angels who bring meals for families in times of need, it was delicious! I keep thinking everything should look and smell and taste differently, but it doesn't. I was grateful for the snow that covered the ground because at least that made it seem like a different world from the one we lived in yesterday... before we discovered that Logan's heart had stopped beating. Paul is hurting like I am but he has been an incredible source of comfort and strength. I just can't say "I love you" enough and I am so blessed to have him in my life. I feel like every song and every poem and every book ever written doesn't have enough expression to hold one ounce of my heartache. So I put down what thoughts I can in this blog because I do my real journaling by hand and I can't write fast enough for the words I need to get out. I feel sorry for anyone reading this!
I always been full of sympathy and heartache for others who have gone through a miscarriage or lost a child or loved one in any other way. I've lost grandparents and friends and distant relatives but this is so much more difficult than anything I imagined. Somehow the strength to put one foot in front of the other appears when I need it... walking out of that hospital and leaving our tiny baby boy behind was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But it has also sharpened and sweetened the good things in my life. I have a lot to be grateful for and at least I know where my baby has gone. So I can be sad for myself for a little while, someday maybe I will get to the point where I'll just be glad to know that he will be waiting for me later.
A friend of mine lost her baby boy yesterday too, around the same time we were saying goodbye to Logan. I am so glad that she got to see him and be with him while his spirit was still on this earth, and that she has his twin brother that may be able to survive and go home with her eventually. But now I know that holds little comfort, there is no easy way to say goodbye to your baby. Their long road is not over although mine is, and I hope and pray for them to have comfort and a happy outcome.
As cruel as it seemed to have to go through an entire labor and delivery even knowing my child was already dead, I consider it a blessing because I was able to hold his tiny perfect body and feel like his mother for a short time. It is just so difficult because the day we found out he had died should have been the day we found out if we were having a boy or a girl. I was sure it was a boy, almost from the beginning, and we were so looking forward to having him in our lives. At least now we know the reason he didn't survive was not because of any genetic or developmental issue, and there is no reason we should not have successful pregnancies and healthy babies in the future. Maybe those hopes and dreams we had for Logan will come to pass with another child in this life, and perhaps some in the life after this with him.
This morning I woke up before dawn to the sound of a newborn crying. I went to check on Berlin but she was fast asleep in her bed. I woke her up, poor thing, so I could hold her in the darkness and enjoy the feeling of her warm body in my arms. As I sat there holding her, I remembered a small part of a dream I'd had just before I woke up... Berlin, older and with long hair, next to a tiny toddler who must have been her sister based on the resemblance. The little girl had short blonde stick-out pigtails and Berlin was sitting next to her holding her hand. I hope that is meant to be something I can live to experience.
I always been full of sympathy and heartache for others who have gone through a miscarriage or lost a child or loved one in any other way. I've lost grandparents and friends and distant relatives but this is so much more difficult than anything I imagined. Somehow the strength to put one foot in front of the other appears when I need it... walking out of that hospital and leaving our tiny baby boy behind was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But it has also sharpened and sweetened the good things in my life. I have a lot to be grateful for and at least I know where my baby has gone. So I can be sad for myself for a little while, someday maybe I will get to the point where I'll just be glad to know that he will be waiting for me later.
A friend of mine lost her baby boy yesterday too, around the same time we were saying goodbye to Logan. I am so glad that she got to see him and be with him while his spirit was still on this earth, and that she has his twin brother that may be able to survive and go home with her eventually. But now I know that holds little comfort, there is no easy way to say goodbye to your baby. Their long road is not over although mine is, and I hope and pray for them to have comfort and a happy outcome.
As cruel as it seemed to have to go through an entire labor and delivery even knowing my child was already dead, I consider it a blessing because I was able to hold his tiny perfect body and feel like his mother for a short time. It is just so difficult because the day we found out he had died should have been the day we found out if we were having a boy or a girl. I was sure it was a boy, almost from the beginning, and we were so looking forward to having him in our lives. At least now we know the reason he didn't survive was not because of any genetic or developmental issue, and there is no reason we should not have successful pregnancies and healthy babies in the future. Maybe those hopes and dreams we had for Logan will come to pass with another child in this life, and perhaps some in the life after this with him.
This morning I woke up before dawn to the sound of a newborn crying. I went to check on Berlin but she was fast asleep in her bed. I woke her up, poor thing, so I could hold her in the darkness and enjoy the feeling of her warm body in my arms. As I sat there holding her, I remembered a small part of a dream I'd had just before I woke up... Berlin, older and with long hair, next to a tiny toddler who must have been her sister based on the resemblance. The little girl had short blonde stick-out pigtails and Berlin was sitting next to her holding her hand. I hope that is meant to be something I can live to experience.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
12/30/10 - Hello and Goodbye to Logan
At 1pm today we delivered a stillborn baby boy. He was only 6.5 ounces and 7.75 inches long. He was perfectly formed with all his tiny fingers and toes but the cord had been wrapped around his neck at least twice. So that's why he did not survive, and I'm not sure how comforting that knowledge is. It is a rare and random occurrence and I know I can't blame myself, but I can't help feeling that I should have noticed something was wrong. At the first ultrasound he had been jumping around in the womb and doing what looked like somersaults and he must have eventually just gotten himself tangled up. The delivery was very easy physically, no pain medication or interference was needed other than inducing labor. We got to spend 3 precious hours with him before we left the hospital. While I was in labor I crocheted a tiny white blanket, about the size of a kleenex, and it was more than enough to cover him. We left him with the hospital for burial. As difficult as it was, I am comforted to know that his spirit had already long ago returned to Heavenly Father and all that we were holding was the shell of his mortal body. I have never experienced something so terrible and amazing at the same time. His name is Logan Ehren Tharp. Paul chose the first name and I chose the middle name... it sounds just like "Aaron" and it means "honor" in German. We are healing and focusing on all the many blessings remaining in our lives.
12/30/10 - Goodbye 2010, and good riddance
I have never been more grateful for the end of a year. I thought 2009 was difficult, but this year has eclipsed all that and is ending with the biggest tragedy of all.
The year started off with financial difficulties like a large number of other people we know, and a search for a new job for Paul. Fortunately he found a good one and was able to switch jobs smoothly. July was the highlight of the year, starting with a move to a nicer larger (and cheaper) house right next door to our best friends, then music camp in Idyllwild followed by a wonderful family reunion at Bear Lake in northern Utah. Laera started middle school in August and Berlin was weaned and started potty training, as well as speaking in very grown-up sentences. Life was good.
In September we found out I was going to be expecting a baby due around mid-May and we were super-excited. It was a complete surprise but since Berlin was about to turn two it seemed like good timing. The pregnancy went very smoothly and we hoped to meet this new wonderful baby in a few more months. Yesterday at our 20-week ultrasound we were so excited to find out the baby's gender, but instead we got heartbreaking news. There was no fetal heartbeat. And based on the size of the baby, he or she had stopped growing at around 17-18 weeks. At first it didn't sink in that this meant our baby had already died, but we soon realized that the pregnancy was basically over. Because of the stage in development (under 20 weeks) legally it's classified as a miscarriage, but since the baby had not yet been expelled I would have to go to the hospital and deliver the baby, basically as a stillborn. Another option would be to have a D&C, where they basically forcibly dilate you and remove the baby and placenta. But in that case the trauma to the baby's body would be such that I would probably not be allowed to see or hold it. So we chose to go through the labor process, just as if we were delivering another healthy child, and we will at least be able to hold our baby in our arms and love it before we have to say goodbye.
Paul and Berlin were there holding my hands when I got this news, and although of course Berlin was far too young to understand she could tell that Mommy was very sad. The doctor called the hospital to expect us shortly and we went home to pack a few things and feed the girls before we left for the hospital. Laera stayed home with Berlin, with the neighbors watching our for them until we could come home. We checked in around 2:30 pm and it took several hours for anything to happen as far as starting the labor process. I was still allowed to eat though, and Paul brought some of my favorite movies so we'd have something to do while we waiting and waited.
Around 5 pm I finally received the first of four 4-pill doses of Misoprostil, the rest spread four hours apart. It caused mild cramping and hopefully will continue to allow things to soften and open in preparation for delivery. I will likely have Pitocin started soon, which will strengthen the cramps into full contractions. After that it could go very fast, but there's a whole lot of nothing to do in the meantime. So I called people to give them the sad news, read a book, and started crocheting a tiny blanket for the baby. We also have the awful chore of deciding what to do with our baby's body after it's over. Of all the horrible situations to have in my life I never expected to be faced with such a choice. The hospital staff has been extremely kind and gentle in their treatment of both of us and are trying to making everything as easy as it can be. I know this kind of event is much more rare nowadays than it used to be, even just a few decades ago, and I feel immense gratitude for the improvements in medical care that I will be able to benefit from so there is minimal risk of danger to me. It's already too late for this new little life that would have come home with us in a few more months, but we know the spirit is already back where it belongs with Heavenly Father and all we will hold is the vessel that carried it.
I wish my mother were here, or my sweet mother-in-law; both of them have been through something similar to this at least once and I hope I can have their strength to overcome it. It has sharpened my focus and given me a new view on my life and made it clear what changes I can make to be a better wife and mother to my 2 special daughters. We have had amazing support from friends and church members and the outpouring of love and prayers has been felt. I feel peaceful and comforted but deeply sad. But I am not going through this alone, and I am cheered by the doctor's belief that there is no reason this situation will prevent me from having another baby someday. It doesn't make the pain go away but it does give me a bright spot in the future to focus on, and my family has become a million times more precious too me because of this unexpected and tragic loss.
As devastated as we are, we consider ourselves greatly blessed. I will be able to hold my baby in my arms, just much sooner than we expected. We just won't be going home together, and there will be no diapers to change or tiny outfits to put on. No one is able to tell us what to expect him or her to look like, but I don't care. Even at such an early stage of development there is no doubt it will be our baby. It will be beautiful. So we still sit and wait for the next stage, and pray for comfort.
The year started off with financial difficulties like a large number of other people we know, and a search for a new job for Paul. Fortunately he found a good one and was able to switch jobs smoothly. July was the highlight of the year, starting with a move to a nicer larger (and cheaper) house right next door to our best friends, then music camp in Idyllwild followed by a wonderful family reunion at Bear Lake in northern Utah. Laera started middle school in August and Berlin was weaned and started potty training, as well as speaking in very grown-up sentences. Life was good.
In September we found out I was going to be expecting a baby due around mid-May and we were super-excited. It was a complete surprise but since Berlin was about to turn two it seemed like good timing. The pregnancy went very smoothly and we hoped to meet this new wonderful baby in a few more months. Yesterday at our 20-week ultrasound we were so excited to find out the baby's gender, but instead we got heartbreaking news. There was no fetal heartbeat. And based on the size of the baby, he or she had stopped growing at around 17-18 weeks. At first it didn't sink in that this meant our baby had already died, but we soon realized that the pregnancy was basically over. Because of the stage in development (under 20 weeks) legally it's classified as a miscarriage, but since the baby had not yet been expelled I would have to go to the hospital and deliver the baby, basically as a stillborn. Another option would be to have a D&C, where they basically forcibly dilate you and remove the baby and placenta. But in that case the trauma to the baby's body would be such that I would probably not be allowed to see or hold it. So we chose to go through the labor process, just as if we were delivering another healthy child, and we will at least be able to hold our baby in our arms and love it before we have to say goodbye.
Paul and Berlin were there holding my hands when I got this news, and although of course Berlin was far too young to understand she could tell that Mommy was very sad. The doctor called the hospital to expect us shortly and we went home to pack a few things and feed the girls before we left for the hospital. Laera stayed home with Berlin, with the neighbors watching our for them until we could come home. We checked in around 2:30 pm and it took several hours for anything to happen as far as starting the labor process. I was still allowed to eat though, and Paul brought some of my favorite movies so we'd have something to do while we waiting and waited.
Around 5 pm I finally received the first of four 4-pill doses of Misoprostil, the rest spread four hours apart. It caused mild cramping and hopefully will continue to allow things to soften and open in preparation for delivery. I will likely have Pitocin started soon, which will strengthen the cramps into full contractions. After that it could go very fast, but there's a whole lot of nothing to do in the meantime. So I called people to give them the sad news, read a book, and started crocheting a tiny blanket for the baby. We also have the awful chore of deciding what to do with our baby's body after it's over. Of all the horrible situations to have in my life I never expected to be faced with such a choice. The hospital staff has been extremely kind and gentle in their treatment of both of us and are trying to making everything as easy as it can be. I know this kind of event is much more rare nowadays than it used to be, even just a few decades ago, and I feel immense gratitude for the improvements in medical care that I will be able to benefit from so there is minimal risk of danger to me. It's already too late for this new little life that would have come home with us in a few more months, but we know the spirit is already back where it belongs with Heavenly Father and all we will hold is the vessel that carried it.
I wish my mother were here, or my sweet mother-in-law; both of them have been through something similar to this at least once and I hope I can have their strength to overcome it. It has sharpened my focus and given me a new view on my life and made it clear what changes I can make to be a better wife and mother to my 2 special daughters. We have had amazing support from friends and church members and the outpouring of love and prayers has been felt. I feel peaceful and comforted but deeply sad. But I am not going through this alone, and I am cheered by the doctor's belief that there is no reason this situation will prevent me from having another baby someday. It doesn't make the pain go away but it does give me a bright spot in the future to focus on, and my family has become a million times more precious too me because of this unexpected and tragic loss.
As devastated as we are, we consider ourselves greatly blessed. I will be able to hold my baby in my arms, just much sooner than we expected. We just won't be going home together, and there will be no diapers to change or tiny outfits to put on. No one is able to tell us what to expect him or her to look like, but I don't care. Even at such an early stage of development there is no doubt it will be our baby. It will be beautiful. So we still sit and wait for the next stage, and pray for comfort.
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