Circle of Support Lafayette

The Pit

The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief. My friends watched me struggle through daily life, waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit, not realizing "she" is gone forever.

The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair, it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to ration. The pit leaves you forever changed, unable to surface the person you once were.

Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit, waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes, not understanding whatís taking me so long to emerge. After all, in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite sometime. Yet in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday.

Not all of my pre-grief friends are gathered around the top of the pit. Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkness. They climb side by side with me from time to time, but mostly they climb ahead of me, waiting patiently at each plateau. Even with these friends I sometimes wonder if they are also waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes.

Then there are the casual acquaintances, you know the ones who say, "Hi, how are you?" when they really don't care or really want to know. These are the people who sigh in relief, that it is my child who died and not theirs. You know...the "better them, than me" attitude.

My post-grief friends (and a rare pre-grief friend) are the ones who climb with me, side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit with me. They are able to reassure me when I need reassurance, rest when I need resting, and encourage me to move forward when I don't have the strength. They have no expectations, no memories and no recollection of how I "should" be. They want me to get better, to smile more often and find joy in life, but they also accepted the person I've become. The "person" who is emerging from the pit

~Author Unknown

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My Wish List

1. I wish my baby hadn't died. I wish I had her back.

2. I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my baby's name. My baby lived and is very important to me. I need to hear that she is important to you also.

3. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my baby, I wish you knew it isn't because you have hurt me. My baby's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my baby, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

4. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.

5. I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my baby, my favorite topic of the day.

6. I know you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my baby's death pains you too. I wish you would let me know those things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.

7. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my baby until the day I die.

8. I am working very hard on my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my baby, and I will always grieve that she is dead.

9. I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.

10. I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

11. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I am feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

12. When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't "feel" okay and that I struggle daily.

13. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So, please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

14. Your advise to "take one day at a time" is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.

15. Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly it is not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.

16. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my baby died, a big part of me died with her. I am not the same person I was before my baby died, and will never be that person again.

17. I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain BUT, I pray that you will never understand.

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My Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes

They are ugly shoes uncomfortable shoes I hate my shoes

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them

I get funny looks wearing these shoes

They are looks of sympathy I can tell in others eyes

that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs

They never talk about my shoes

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them

But once you put them on, you can never take them off

I realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes

There are many pairs in the world

Some woman are like me and ache daily as they walk in them

Some have learned how to walk in them so that they don't hurt quite so much

Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go

before they think about how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes

Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman

These shoes have given me strength to face anything

They have made me who I am

I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

-Author Unknown -

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From the heart of a bereaved Mother...

This is now what "normal" is...

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.

Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age they would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and their birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my babies.

Normal is making sure that others remember them.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have 1 child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.

Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.And last of all,

Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
------ author unknown ------

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Wish List

I wish you would not be afraid to mention my baby. The truth is just because you never saw my baby doesn't mean it doesn't deserve your recognition.

I wish that if we did talk about my baby and I cried you don't think it was because you have hurt me by mentioning my baby. The truth is I need to cry and talk about my baby with you. Crying and emotional outbursts help me heal.

I wish you wouldn't think that I don't want to talk about my baby. The truth is I love my baby and need to talk about it.

I wish you could tell me you are sorry my baby has died and that you're thinking of me. The truth is it tells me you care.

I wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me. The truth is the memory of my baby, the love I feel for my baby, the dreams I had and the memories I have created for my baby are all loving memories. Yes there are bad memories too but please understand that it's not all like that.

I wish you wouldn't pretend my baby never existed. The truth is we both know I had a baby growing inside me.

I wish you wouldn't judge me because I'm not acting the way you think I should be. The truth is grief is a very personal thing and we are all different people who deal with things differently.

I wish you wouldn't think if I have a good day I'm "over it" or if I have a bad day I am being unreasonable because you think I should be over it. The truth is there is no "normal" way for me to act.

I wish you wouldn't stay away from me. The truth is loosing my baby doesn't mean I'm contagious. By staying away you make me feel isolated, confused and like it is my fault.

I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be "over and done with" in a few weeks, months or years for that matter. The truth is it may get easier with time but I will never be "over" this.

I wish you wouldn't think that my baby wasn't really a baby and it was blood and tissue or a "fetus". The truth is my baby was a human life. My baby had a soul, heart, body, legs, arms and a face. My baby was a real person. My babies due date, Mothers Day, celebration times, the day my baby died and the day I lost my baby are all important and sad days for me.

I wish you understood that losing my baby has changed me. The truth is I am not the same person I was before and will never be that person again.

I wish you wouldn't tell me I could have another baby. The truth is I want the baby I lost and no other baby can replace this baby. Babies aren't interchangeable.

I wish you wouldn't think that you'll keep away because others will be there for me. The truth is, everyone thinks the same thing and I am often left with no one.

I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women is uncomfortable for me. The truth is I feel jealous.

I wish you wouldn't say that it's natures way of telling me something was wrong with my baby. The truth is my baby was perfect to me no matter what you think nature is saying.

I wish you would understand what you are really saying when you say "next time things will be okay". The truth is how do you know? What will you say if it happens to me again?I wish you would remember the father. The truth is he is suffering too.

I wish you don't think bad of me for posting this list. The truth is it needed to be said.
~Author Unknown~

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The Wall

"You are walking along fine with everyone else and the sun is shining and all is well, then you walk SLAM into a brick wall. And it hurts – it really hurts. It hurts your head and your chest where your heart is and your stomach. And it shocks you as only slamming into a brick wall can. It stops you dead in your tracts. And you stand there thinking, "How did I not see that coming? What the hell happened? How could someone just do that to me?" And you look around and everyone else seems to be walking around the wall. They are carrying on like nothing happened and the sun is still shining for them. They don't even see the wall. They don't even know it's there. And you realize you didn't even know it was there until you hit it – you didn't even know there was a brick wall you could hit – not now, not at this stage. And slowly you pull yourself back together. The pain in your stomach has turned to a sick feeling and your heart still hurts, your mind racing with questions about this brick wall – How, What, Where, Why??? Mostly WHY??? Why on earth would someone make you walk into this wall – why did they have to put it in front of you and no one else?

And you can walk again now the pain in your stomach and maybe your legs has lessened. So you slowly make your way around the wall and to the other side. But it doesn't look the same on the other side. It's greyer and emptier. And you know you've left something behind – something very precious and you want it back. So you turn around and there is the brick wall behind you and it seems to hit you with the same force again when you realize you can't go back. It's blocking your path and it will always be there. You pummel your fists on it and cry and shout at it but it's unbreakable and absolute. It won't let you get your precious bundle back – that has to stay on the other side and you must carry on without it. You can't go back to the path you were on before you hit the brick wall – it's impossible. So all you can do is go forward and walk on from it. But it's hard going and your legs don't seem to want to walk away from it. You know when you look over your shoulder it will always be there. It may fade a bit from view but if you look closely you will always be able to see it – even in the distance. And you look around you again and see all the people who never hit the brick wall carrying on too. You tell some of them about the brick wall and they sympathize – it must've hurt they say. You are looking very well despite this brick wall – you have no cuts or bruises on the outside because those heal. So you must be doing ok then now they say. "But my wounds are on the inside!” you feel like screaming. How can you not know about this brick wall – why couldn't you walk into it instead of me? And then you feel bad – you know you wouldn't really want anyone else to walk into that wall.

Some people are ok – maybe they have seen the wall themselves in the past or came close to it – maybe they are really good friends/family who close their eyes and do try to imagine walking into the wall. They are the ones who help you keep walking away from it. People tell you that you'll never hit this brick wall again – it only appears once in your life. And you want to believe them even though you can't ever be sure. Up ahead it looks like maybe your path does cross back into the sunshine again – the same sunshine that everyone else is basking in. And you can maybe just make out another bundle waiting for you to pick up and carry with you for the rest of your life. And maybe if you are strong and keep moving forward then you'll reach it one day. But it's not the same bundle as before – it can't be. That one is behind the wall. The wall that's always there if you look over your shoulder. And written on it forever more is the message in letters a mile high, that only you can see “My Darling Baby Boy...Rest in Peace"

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The Cord

We are connected,
My child and I, by
An invisible cord
Not seen by the eye.

It's not like the cord
That connects us 'til birth
This cord can't been seen
By any on Earth.

This cord does it's work
Right from the start.
It binds us together
Attached to my heart.

I know that it's there
Though no one can see
The invisible cord
From my child to me.

The strength of this cord
Is hard to describe.
It can't be destroyed
It can't be denied.

It's stronger than any cord
Man could create
It withstands the test
Can hold any weight.

And though you are gone,
Though you're not here with me,
The cord is still there
But no one can see.

It pulls at my heart
I am bruised...I am sore,
But this cord is my lifeline
As never before.

I am thankful that God
Connects us this way
A mother and child
Death can't take it away!

Author Unknown

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OH MOTHER, MY MOTHER:

Oh Mother, my Mother
I touch your tears
invisible fingers
soothing your skin.
I know you think of me so often
in the day, in the night,
in your dreams
going into an empty nursery
knowing I'll never be there
but I am . . . in your heart
in your soul, I shall always be
for you gave so unselfishly
of yourself.
Inside of you, you created
such a world for me
a world of laughter, of love
of sadness, of sorrow
every emotion people come to know
you shared with me.
And even though I may never
feel your arms around me
I felt your heart beating,
like a lullaby, singing me to sleep
and your spirit giving me a safe haven
already protecting me
nurturing me
preparing me of things to come
But sometimes the journey
of life pulls souls apart
and yes, I had to go on
to another place.
I wish I could stay
I wish this was a decision
I could make
and I know you do too.
Know this wherever you are:
I will always remember
that yours was the first love
the first joy, the first soul
I will ever know
you gave me courage to
go on in my journey
I hope I can do the same
for you
Your heartbeat will always
call me to you.
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"Ask My Mom How She Is"
(unknown)
My Mom, she tells a lot of lies,
She never did before
But from now until she dies,
She'll tell a whole lot more.

Ask my Mom how she is
And because she can't explain,
She will tell a little lie
because she can't describe the pain.

Ask my Mom how she is,
She'll say"I'm alright."
If that's the truth, then tell me,
why does she cry each night ?

Ask my Mom how she is
She seems to cope so well,
She didn't have a choice you see,
Nor the strength to yell.

Ask my Mom how she is,
"I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping."
For God's sake Mom, just tell the truth,
Just say your heart is broken

She'll love me all her life
I loved her all of mine.
But if you ask her how she is,
She'll lie and say she's fine.

I am here in Heaven
I cannot hug from here.
If she lies to you don't listen
Hug her and hold her near.

On the day we meet again,
We'll smile and I'll be bold.
I'll say,
"You're lucky to get in here, Mom,
With all the lies you told!"

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"My Mom is a Survivor"

My Mom is a survivor,
or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night
when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night
and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her
to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach
that never wash away ...
I watch over my surviving Mom
who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others ...
a smile of disguise!
But through Heaven's door
I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My Mom tries to cope with death;
To keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows
it is her way to survive.
as I watch over my surviving Mom
through Heaven's open door ...
I try to tell her that angels
protect me forevermore!
I know that doesn't help her,
or ease the burden she bears.
So, if you get a chance, go visit her.
Show her that you care.
for no matter what she says ...
no matter what she feels.
My surviving Mom has a broken heart
that time won't ever heal.
~Author~
Kaye Des'Ormeaux
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My Dad is a Survivor

My dad is a survivor too
which is no surprise to me.
He's always been like a lighthouse
that helps you cross a stormy sea.
But, I walk with my dad each day
to lift him when he's down.
I wipe the tears he hides from others;
He cries when no one's around.
I watch him sit up late at night
with my picture in his hand.
He cries as he tries to grieve alone,
and wishes he could understand.
My dad is like a tower of strength.
He's the greatest of them all!
But, there are times when he needs to cry...
Please be there when he falls.
Hold his hand or pat his shoulder...
And tell him it's okay.
Be his strength when he's sad,
Help him mourn in his own way.
Now, as I watch over my precious dad
from the Heavens up above...
I'm so proud that he's a survivor...
And, I can still feel his love.

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-WHAT MAKES A MOTHER?

I thought of you as I closed my eyes, and prayed to God today.
I asked what makes a mother, and I know I heard him say,
"a mother has a baby, this we know is true".
"But God, can you be a mother, when your baby's not with you? "

"Yes, you can" he replied, with confidence in his voice,
"I give many women babies, when they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime, and others for a day,
and some I send to feel your womb, but there's no need to stay."

"I just don't understand this God, I want my baby here!"
He took a breath and cleared his throat, and then I saw a tear.
"I wish I could show you what your child is doing today,
if you could see your child smile, with other children and say.."

"We go to earth to learn our lessons, of love and life and fear,
my mommy loved me oh so much, I got to come straight here!
I feel so lucky to have a mom, who had so much love for me,
I learned my lesson very quick, my mommy set me free.

I miss my mommy oh so much, but I visit her each day,
when she goes to sleep on her pillows where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek, and whisper in her ear,
"Mommy don't be sad, I'm your baby, I'm still here."

"So you see my dear sweet one, your children are ok,
your babies are here in my home, and this is where they'll stay.
They'll wait for you with me, until your lesson is through,
and on the day that you come home, they'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a mother, it's the feeling in your heart,
it's the love you had so much of, right from the very start.
Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother,
until their time is done, they'll be up here with me one day,
and know you're the best one!"

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What Makes a Dad?

God took the strength of a mountain
The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun,
The calm of a quiet sea,

The generous soul of nature,
The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages,
The power of the eagle’s flight,

The joy of a morning in Spring,
The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of Eternity,
The depth of a family’s need..

When God combined these qualities;
When there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so, He called it ~ DAD.

~ Author Unknown ~
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Grief is Like a River

My grief is like a river,
I have to let it flow,
But I myself determine,
Just where the banks will go.

Some days the current takes me
In waves of guilt and pain
But there are always quiet pools
Where I can rest again.

I crash on rocks of anger
My faith seems faint indeed
But there are other swimmers
Who know just what I need

And loving hands to hold me
When the waters are too swift
And someone kind to listen
When I just seem to drift

Grief's river is a process
Of relinquishing the past
By swimming in Hope's channels
I'll reach the shore at last

~Cynthia G. Kelley~
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-Memories

If we could have a lifetime wish
A dream that would come true.
We'd pray to God with all our hearts
For yesterday and You.

A thousand words can't bring you back
We know because we've tried...
Neither will a thousand tears
We know because we've cried...

You left behind our broken hearts
And happy memories too...
But we never wanted memories
We only wanted You.
-Unknown

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Silent Child
by Kelly Lancor

My silent child
our precious baby,
Close to my heart
I'll keep you with me.
An important job
God has for you,
There is love to give,
and work to do.

He needs an angel
strong but small,
To shine light on many
and give love to all.
Before you go
I give you this,
half my heart
and one last kiss.

We'll miss you dearly
that we know,
But by God you were
chosen,
So to heaven, you must go

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REMEMBERING
There will come a day
when your tears of sorrow
will softly flow into tears of remembrance...
and your heart will begin to heal itself...
and grieving will be interrupted by episodes of joy...
and you will hear the whisper of hope.
There will come a day
when you will welcome the tears of remembrance...
as a sunshower of the soul...
a turning of the tide...
a promise of peace.
There will come a day when you will...
risk loving...
go on believing...
and treasure the tears of remembering
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Friday, May 8, 2009

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