The following online articles are written by Rachel Whalen, a fellow Vermont mom, writer, and grief advocate. Rachel experienced two miscarriages, and in 2016 her daughter Dorothy was stillborn after complications from preeclampsia. In 2017, her daughter Frances was born and since then Rachel has committed herself to helping other mothers and their families navigate life after loss.
website: AN UNEXPECTED FAMILY OUTING
Below are some blog articles, all written by Rachel, that we thought would be helpful to read for people visiting our website looking for support resources.
I Waited Your Whole Life To Meet You And I Had To Say Goodbye
I used to rub my stomach and whisper to you. “Hey there baby girl. What are you doing in there?” “Hi sweetheart, I can’t wait to meet you.” So many moments imagining what it would be like to say hello. To see your face. To welcome you into the world. Days spent curled up in bed, my hand where I imagined your hand to be–waiting for the day when your fingers would curl around mine. Lingering in daydreams of what my life would be like when we finally said hello.
Never knowing that we would too quickly say goodbye.
Why It's So Hard When Your Child Dies, and Why Life is Still Worth Living
Child loss is hard. We know this. It’s a universal understanding that losing a child is one of the most difficult experiences a person will endure, but still, a question arises.
Why is this so hard?
I’ve heard this question about grief and child loss asked again and again. I’ve been asked by those who have lost children and those who have not. In my moments of deepest despair, it’s the question I have asked myself.It is a question with an answer that is rife with pain and heartbreak.
To My Fellow Loss Mamas, I Love You No Matter What
Dear Courageous Mama,
I want you to know that I love you. No matter when or how your baby died, you deserve nothing but love and support. And that, beautiful mama, is what I have for you.
I love you in your moments of celebration. I love you in your moments of grief…
It’s Not Just Mothers That Have Lost A Baby–Let Us Not Forget The Dads
Let’s take a moment to recognize the dads–the grieving dads. When people acknowledge pregnancy and infant loss, they turn to the moms with their comfort and support. But it’s not just the mothers who have lost a baby.
Let us not forget the dads and their own experiences with the heartbreak of losing a baby.
We can’t forget about the dads who sat in hospital chairs with us while we waited. The dads who held our hands when we stared at silent screens. Let’s remember the dads who asked “Can I hold her now?” because they knew that time was precious.
Sleepless Nights Aren’t Just For The Moms Who Bring Home Their Babies
People love to tell moms-to-be about how exhausted they are going to be. Some almost seem to get a thrill from teasing about the sleepless nights that lay ahead. “Just you wait,” they’ll say with a knowing smirk, “life with a baby is exhausting.”
I wonder if they know that life without the baby is also exhausting.
Mothers who come home with empty arms will face many sleepless nights. Just like those mothers who are up all night soothing a fussy baby, these heartbroken mothers will know the experience of complete exhaustion.
Grief Is Not Just Surviving Those First Minutes, It’s About Living All The Minutes That Come After
I didn’t hear the door close, but I felt it. I sat up just enough in my hospital bed so I could look that way. Just visible through the glass was the outline of the nurse’s shoulders–hunched and tense as she so carefully carried my daughter out of the room. I quickly looked away. I couldn’t watch her disappear.
I knew very well that the nurse would return, but I was never going to see my baby again.
As I lay back down, I felt like I was living someone else’s life. It didn’t seem possible that I had just given birth to a stillborn baby. I had to be living the life of another because to live this life as my own would be impossible.
It’s Me–I’m The Person With The Dead Baby
I’m the person with the dead baby.
It’s okay, I’m allowed to be so blunt because it’s my truth. I am the person whose baby died. One day my baby was living and the next day they died. That is what happened. It doesn’t offend me if you acknowledge this.
It offends me when you don’t.
You see, I know that my baby died. I will not forget this. When you whisper about it like it’s a secret, that feels shameful. It feels like you’re embarrassed for me. I’m not embarrassed about my baby and I’m not embarrassed that she died. I’m sad that she died. It’s different.