Baby Loss

Ask The Band: Help Coping With Baby Loss Anniversary

On the 13th of November, 2005,  I gave birth to a baby girl. She was four months premature, and didn't even make it out of my womb. I was only 16.

I did everything I could to make sure that she would have a good life. I found a great couple and talked to them via text/email/phone at least four times a week. I was absolutely positive they would provide the best life for my unborn child.

While I was in labor, I sent a text to the adoptive mother and asked her to make the 40 minute drive to the hospital. By the time they arrived our baby was gone.

It was so fast; I can't even remember most of the process. All I can remember is the guilt. I felt like I had failed them, and I knew I couldn't face them.

It's been seven years now. When will I be able to stop thinking about this? When will I stop feeling so sad? How long does it take to get over something like this - something that really shouldn't have had such an effect on me?

I know she wasn't mine. I couldn't have taken care of her. But I can't stop thinking 'what if?' What if she was healthy, what if I would have kept her, what if I did give her to those people...

What would have been different if I were raising her?

I miss her. I never even got to see her beautiful face - I can only imagine it. It hurts so bad.

The last three days gave been harder than the actual day I lost her. I can't get out of bed. None of my friends know what I'm dealing with because I'm to embarrassed to tell them. I really just need someone to talk to who isn't going to judge me.

So please, if you read this and have any advice on how to get over it and move forward, please share with me. I really don't know how much longer I can stay in bed without just dying...anyway, that's all I've got. Thanks.

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Spotlight On: Baby Loss - The Isolation Of Grieving My Dead Son

The creation of human life is one of the most complex and shockingly beautiful things that our bodies are designed to do. The microanatomy that goes into this task is so astonishingly complicated that it's a miracle any of us walk around at all. And yet, most of us do. Most...but not all.

When a baby dies, we are fragmented. Shattered, we must pick up the pieces and put them back together as we pay tribute to our children, our tables forever missing one, our families incomplete, our treasures in heaven, our babies alive only in our hearts.

It is through our stories that they live forever. These children were here and they mattered. They were loved. They are loved.

It's been just over three years since I last held my sweet boy in my arms, tiny at just twenty-two weeks gestation. Three years of not changing his diapers or watching him grow. Three years of aching every time I see my friends fly through their own healthy pregnancies. Three years of a guilt-ridden jealousy of every parent who doesn't know the depths of my sorrow. Three years of never knowing how to answer the question “how many children do you have?"

Three years of hurting.

I know that death is a part of life; from the moment of conception, it's a solitary promise. The only question is how much time we have between our first moment and our last. All of us, on some level, know this.

But that will never relieve the suffering of grief. The risk of pregnancy loss will never erase the pain. Like so many other women, I knew the odds. I kept track of the statistics. I celebrated my way into the second trimester. But when the grim reality of stillbirth was visited on my family, I was unprepared for a different reality: the reality of a complete and limitless grieving.

This is a different kind of grief than the kind I carry for my father, who died when I was fifteen. Or for my grandmother, who died three years later. My sorrow for them is tempered by the memories I have; ones I can share with others. I have comrades in my grief, people who help me remember and be grateful for our times of joy.

Our time before loss.

In sharing these memories, our loved ones, for a moment, live again.

We don't have treasure chest of memories to share and hold dear. He's already dead in the photographs we have; every memory of his existence outside of my body completely entrenched in heartbreak. Talking about my son is, by its very nature, an exercise in grieving.

I have amazing people in my life who have not only allowed me the room to grieve my son in my own way, but who have reached out in an attempt to touch my son's memory with me. I don't think I can tell these people how wonderful and rare and beautiful and needed they are. I don't think I can ever thank them enough.

But these people are rare. They are the exception to a very tragic rule.

For many, pregnancy loss is a difficult, terrible, avoid-at-all-costs topic of discussion. The awfulness of a dead baby lends itself to stilted conversations; to awkward pauses and hurried condolences. To overly cheerful nods towards the silver lining of my living children, as if they somehow are obligated to, or even can, “make up” for their brother's death. As if children are interchangeable.

And instead of the sharing of memories... silence.

This is the awful truth about pregnancy loss: so much of it is absolutely carried alone. People don't know what to say, so they say nothing at all. Nobody wants to remind me of my heartache, but it has never for one moment been forgotten. How could I forget the boy who should have been my future?

And why would I ever want to?

I'm not angry at anyone for being absent or silent or unsure. I understand. I really, really do. I don't even know how I need to grieve; how can I expect anyone else to? But just because I understand, it doesn't mean it hurts any less.

It doesn't mean I feel any less alone.

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Spotlight On: Pregnancy, Infant, and Child Loss: The Need

The creation of human life is one of the most complex and shockingly beautiful things that our bodies are designed to do. The micro-anatomy that goes into this task is so astonishingly complicated that it's a miracle any of us walk around at all. And yet, most of us do.

Most...but not all.

When a baby dies, we are fragmented. Shattered, we must pick up the pieces and put them back together as we pay tribute to our children, our tables forever missing one, our families incomplete, our treasures in heaven, our babies alive only in our hearts.

It is through our stories that they live forever. These children were here and they mattered. They were loved.

They are loved.

It’s taken me all evening to work out what to type so expect pure ramble. 

I used to love writing. To spill my thoughts and feelings out onto the screen, but then life and 'stuff' got in the way and for months now I have forgotten to sit down and have a decent one-to-one with myself. 

Who am I? I am Lucy and I am 31 years old. On Thursday, July 2, 2009, as my son was dying I - the Lucy I had grown into over the past 28 years - was reborn into someone unknown.

When your baby dies, you have three options.

1. You become so consumed in your grief that you cannot see a way out from it, other than to end your life, as all you can think about is wanting to be with your baby.

2. You go through the grief process, you meet lots of friends through your grief and it soon becomes your life - you let it define who you are.

3. You go through the grief process, you meet lots of friends through your grief but somewhere along the line, you go off on your own, needing to do something, somewhere, somehow but not quite sure what, how or where.

I won’t lie; over the last thirty-eight months I have experienced all three of the above - although not to the extreme where I did take my life, otherwise I would not be typing this now. Obviously.

I simply cannot explain the overwhelming need to be with your baby in the beginning, even though the logical part of your brain knows that the only way to be with your baby means that the overwhelming need will take you away from everyone you love and from everyone who loves you.

I do not think badly of the women – and men - who do follow that need. In fact, I think they are ultimately stronger then they believe themselves to be; it takes a lot of courage to take yourself away from all that you have ever known. Thankfully I was able to bring myself out of those thoughts quite early. Instead I turned to the ever-so-faithful Jack Daniels for a short while, before again coming to the realization that it didn't matter how many bottles I downed or how many tears I shed, he, Bobby, my son, will not come back.

It’s easy to look back now and see that I was stuck in point two for pretty much 18 months after his death.

Due to fertility problems, it had taken Steve and I 28 months to get pregnant with Bobby. Not surprisingly, we were not able to fall pregnant again straight away - even as I type this we are still childless.

I fell into the world of Internet support groups. I was even an admin on a Pregnancy and Infant Loss Board, helping others who had recently lost or those who I had met through Bobby's death. As time went on, it dawned on me that those whom I had spent so many hours, days, and months, not to mention emotional effort, into helping, were moving on without me. One by one they all fell pregnant. They formed new friendship circles and because I could no longer relate, I was left behind.

Out of all of the emotions I have felt since the day he died, that realization cut deep to the core, allowing the green-eyed monster to appear. I know that it was not premeditated, but I felt used, let down and stuck emotionally because ultimately, I had put my grief on hold, instead concentrating on helping them move forward.

Resentment slowly set in; with every new pregnancy announcement came the sweaty palms, the rushed heartbeat, the sick feeling at the bottom of my stomach. I had no choice but to be outwardly 'happy' for my friends, to not feel upset when pictures of their scans appeared on their Facebook wall and board profile. Each time I would subconsciously remove myself from their life for nine months until their baby was born safely.

I am ashamed to say that at certain points, a tiny, nasty part of me had wanted that pregnancy to end so that I could get my friend back. Then I would again be needed and things would go back to how they were.

It is amazing what your baby dying does to you, both physically and emotionally. This is the first time I have ever confessed to those feelings and reading them back doesn’t so much make me sad but instead makes me proud for how far I have really come in my lifelong journey.

I remember falling into the third point as though it was yesterday. It was in November 2010 and a very dear friend at the time had set up a non-profit organization to help those like us. Unlike before, this help wasn’t an emotional, intense ‘help’ - it was practical help. It gave me the freedom to still make a difference, but at a safe distance.

Having volunteered for this non-profit for a year, the opportunity came for me to go off and start my own. I am very proud to say that my baby, Upon Butterfly Wings, turned one on the October 1, 2012.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that UBW has saved my life - not physically so much but mentally.  Still having empty arms three years on, it has given me a purpose; it has given me a meaning to my life. Before Bobby died, I never knew what I wanted to be; what I wanted to do ‘when I grew up.’

I obviously still have moments where I will sit and cry over the need to have my little man here, right now. The need to see him in his preschool uniform, the need to know the color of his eyes and the sound of his voice. Thankfully, these days are overshadowed by the feeling of pride that not only was his death not so much in vain, but that because of him, there are mums and dads out there who are actually being helped and there are babies who are being treated with dignity and love.

Because of a need to help, by learning to live with and eventually understand and quite like my new mind, I now have the drive and determination to change a very small part of the world. There is no reason, apart from my own doubts, that need cannot happen.

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October 15, 2012: Remembering The Band's Babies

The light of a distant star continues to reach the Earth long after the star itself is gone.

- Author Unknown

Today, October 15, 2012, we pause to remember the stars of our soul that were extinguished far too early.

To the parents who are missing their babies today and always, The Band sends our love and prayers.

To our babies, the babies who never got to experience the joys of Earth and whose lives were cut very short, we miss you.

We miss you. More than anyone can ever know. We wish we could have one more moment - one single moment - with you, as if we can't have a lifetime with you.

Today, we honor the short lives of some of the brightest souls, souls that have touched many and have taught us to cherish all of life's moments.

If you'd like to add your little lost soul to our wall, please enter your information here as we at The Band will be adding the names of your wee stars to our wall.

To our babies who we carry in our hearts, instead of our arms, we will never forget you.

Love,

Aunt Becky

Band Back Together's Wall of Remembrance:

Miscarriage:

Ally's Baby:

  • Mary Katerina, miscarriage March 13, 2008.

Amanda's Baby:

  • September 23, 2010, miscarriage.

Amanda and John's Babies:

  • Juliana, July 2008, miscarriage.
  • Charlie, November 2009, miscarriage.
  • Samantha, March 2010, miscarriage.

Ameila's Babies:

  • Her 3 Littles, December 23, 2010, missed miscarriage/June 2011, miscarriage/December 6, 2011, Autosomal Recessive Polycysitic Kidney Disease

Another Becky's Baby:

  • Baby Savu, August 2004 missed miscarriage between 3rd and 4th month.

Ashleigh's Baby:

  • Baby Garrett, September 13 2012, Miscarriage

Aunt Becky's Babies:

  • February, 2008, Baby 1, miscarriage.
  • March, 2008, Baby 2, miscarriage.

Baby Boy, February 15, 2000, miscarriage.

Baby Ian, pregnant October 2011, unpregnant January 2012, ectopic pregnancy.

Baby KJ, July 15, 2008, miscarriage.

Baby Moll, June 13, 2005, miscarriage.

Baby Noah Walter, January 2012, miscarriage.

Barbara's Babies:

  • Malcolm, January 2008, miscarriage.
  • Ophelia, April 2009, miscarriage.

Blazngfrye's Babies:

  • Caden, miscarriage, May 1989.
  • Aubrey, miscarriage, December 1993.

Courtney's Baby:

  • Kaycie, miscarriage, 6/14/2011.

Dawn's Baby:

  • Baby Jones #1, February 2007, miscarriage at 12 weeks due to blighted ovum (Empty Gestational Sac).

Debbie's Babies:

  • Michelle, November 1991, miscarriage 
  • 2 babies, miscarried in 1994 and 1999.

Elsie's Ten Possibilities:

  • Nine Embies, 2008
  • Lola, 2011

Erin's Babies:

  • Baby 1, September 2006, miscarriage.
  • Baby 2, January 2007, miscarriage.
  • Baby Girl 1, December 2008, late miscarriage.
  • Baby Girl 2, August 17, 2009, born still at 18 weeks.

Ewokmama's Baby:

  • March 2005, miscarriage at 13 weeks.

Fibi's Baby:

  • Biscuit, July 18, 2012, miscarriage.

Heather's Babies:

  • Unnamed baby, 6w1d, September 18, 2010, miscarriage.
  • Unnamed baby, 6w2d, June 22, 2011, miscarriage.
  • Unnamed baby, 5w, August 15, 2011, miscarriage.

Her Almost:

  • Pregnant in December, 2007. Unpregnant by February, 2008.

Her Highness:

  • Forget Me Not #1, February 2008, miscarriage.
  • Forget Me Not #2, January 2012, miscarriage.

Hubbit:

  • Two boys.

InDueTime's Baby:

  • Baby M, September 10, 2011, miscarriage.

Jenna's Daughter:

  • Stella, February 13, 2011, miscarriage.

Jennifer's Baby:

  • June 8, 2008, early miscarriage.

Joules' Babies:

  • November 2007, early miscarriage
  • November 2011, early miscarriage

Justine and Boo's Baby:

  • June 2009, miscarriage.

Kallay and Ryan's Baby: 

  • Baby C lost to a partial miscarriage, May 17, 2010. Baby C is survived by twin sisters, Lily and Molly who were born on December 7, 2010.

Kate's Babies:

  • Mari Elizabeth, September 2003, miscarriage
  • Noah Douglas, October 2004, miscarriage.
  • Twin Angels, July 2006, miscarriages.

Kathryn's Baby:

  • Rebecca, June 3, 1995, miscarriage.

Katie's Babies:

  • Baby Sluiter A, April 2007, miscarriage.
  • Baby Sluiter B, May 2008, miscarriage.

Kelly's Daughter:

  • Lola, October 9, 2012, miscarriage.

Kelly and Brad's daughter:

  • Lily Catherine, February 18, 2010, miscarriage.

Kelly's Babies:

  • Baby 1, April 2003, miscarriage.
  • Baby 2, October 2004, miscarriage.
  • Baby 3, February 2006, miscarriage.

Kendra Pocock's Baby:

  • Baby JJ Pocock, July 13 2012, Miscarriage/Ectopic Pregnancy

Kim's Baby:

  • Baby, October 1996, miscarriage.

Krista's Babies:

  • Baby One, son late term miscarriage at 15 weeks.
  • Baby Two, second-trimester miscarriage at 14 weeks.
  • Baby Three: miscarriage, 11 weeks.
  • Baby Four: miscarriage, 13 weeks
  • Baby Five, late miscarriage, 16 weeks.

Kristin's babies:

  • Eva, miscarriage
  • 7 other babies lost through miscarriage due to luteal phase disorder and clotting disorder.

Lara and Brandon's Son:

  • Tallon, August 14, 2011.

Lauren C's Angels:

  • Baby, August 27, 2007, miscarriage.
  • Baby Boy, January 13, 2011, miscarriage.
  • Baby May 9, 2011, miscarriage.

Leah's Babies:

  • Cameron, born and died May 22, 2009 at 10 weeks.
  • Jeremiah Oliver and Jillian Olivia, twin babies. Second trimester loss July 9, 2010 and July 14, 2010 respectively.

Lisa's Baby:

  • July 1994, ectopic pregnancy resulting in emergency surgery.

Lisa's Baby:

  • Natasha Anastasia, September 7, 2011, miscarriage.

Maresi's Baby:

  • Baby B #3, September 1, 2011, miscarriage at 5 weeks.

Marlowe Corrine, September 19, 2006, early miscarriage.

Melissa's Baby

  • June 11, 2011, miscarriage

Mindy's Three Angels:

  • Angel One, September 9, 2005, miscarriage.
  • Angel Two, July 17, 2007, miscarriage.
  • Angel Three, September 25, 2010, miscarriage.

Miranda's Baby:

  • Peanut, August 7, 2011, miscarriage.

Natalie's Baby:

  • Baby One, February 2, 2011, miscarriage.

Natalie's Baby:

  • Hosanna Joy, June 18, 2011, early miscarriage.

Nicole's Baby:

  • Cody Ryan-Price Grodan, February 14, 2012, miscarriage, 12 weeks.

Nicole and Jake's baby:

  • Baby One, September 19, 2011, miscarriage.

Rachel and Jesse:

  • Babies due Aug 2008 and November 2010. Both lost to miscarriage.

Rachel's Baby:

  • Alivia Mason, March 21, 2012, miscarriage.

Renee's Babies:

  • Isaac Ephraim, miscarriage August 2006.
  • Isaiah Jeremiah, miscarriage January 2007.
  • Ella Alicea, ectopic pregnancy June 2009.

Sarah's Baby:

  • September 2006, miscarriage.

Sarah's Babies:

  • April 12, 2002, miscarriage.
  • September 3, 2008, miscarriage.

Susie's Baby:

  • Baby #3, June 2000, miscarriage from a blighted ovum.

Suzanne's children:

  • Athena Rose Moore, Girl Twin B

Tammy's Baby:

  • October 1990, miscarriage.

Three Angels: September, 2002, July 17, September 25. Miscarriages.

Tiffany's Babies:

Yvette's Son:

  • Sean Michael, April 14, 1987, miscarriage.

Stillbirth:

Allyson's Son:

  • Nolan "Shepherd," stillborn at 17 weeks on September 15, 2009.

Angie's Daughter:

  • Madeleine Rose, stillborn July 7, 2009 due to incompetent cervix and uterine infection.

Ann's Son:

  • Orion, stillborn May 8, 2004

Beka's Son:

  • Benjamin, September 4, 2012, stillbirth.

Beryl's Daughter:

  • Bella Rose, stillborn on September 9, 2009.

Brenda's Son:

  • Emerson Allen Behrends, July 10, 2001, stillborn.

Debbie's Son:

  • Jonathan Edward, June 4, 1992, stillborn.

Debbie And Jeff's Daughter:

  • Chloe Eva, September 12, 2008, stillbirth.

Heather and David's Daughter:

  • Clara Edith, July 1, 2012, Stillbirth at 42 weeks, 3 days due to meconium aspiration and uterine infection.

Leslie's Son:

Lilla and Gareth's daughter:

  • Pippa, born still on February 13, 2011 from listeria infection.

Louise and Joseph's Baby:

  • Alice Mathelin, born still on February 25, 2011, at 36 weeks and 5 days from Abruptio Placentae

Martha's Twin Boys:

  • Owen died March 8, 2008 because his cord wasn't properly attached to the placenta.
  • Joshua died one month later, April 6, 2008 because he couldn't live without his brother. Both were born still on April 8, 2008.

Melanie's Daughter:

  • Summer Lily, born still March 30, 2011.

Mel's Daughter:

  • Jordan Ala, stillborn on November 13, 2006.

Sarah's Daughter:

  • Audrey Elizabeth, August 7, 1998, born still.

Selah Mae: born January 22, 2002, stillborn.

Stephanie's Son:

  • Carter Austin Ross, March 18, 2006, stillbirth due to an umbilical cord anomaly.

TiaMaria's Daughter:

  • Isabella-Rose Elizabeth, October 12, 2009, stillbirth.

Prematurity:

Amy and James's Babies:

  • Jacob Bennett born and died on July 11, 2007 due to premature rupture of membranes (PROM).
  • Samantha Lauren born August 16, 2011 at 23.5 weeks passed away September 17th due to extreme prematurity and fungal meningitis.

Baby Helen: Born July, 1993. Passed from prematurity.

Celeste's Son:

  • Christopher Robin Cote: Born September 25, 2009. Stillborn due to premature rupture of membranes and incompetent cervix.

Christine's Son:

  • Jellybean, born at 5:20 April 15th, 2009; and passed just four short hours later in her arms.

Heather and Aaron's Son:

  • Aodin R. Hurd, October 7, 2007, born still due to premature rupture of the membranes.

Kate's Babies:

  • Baby S, March 2008, Miscarriage
  • Evie, December 14, 2009, Triplet Prematurity
  • Jack, December 22, 2009, Triplet Stillbirth due to Prematurity
  • Will, January 13, 2010, Triplet Prematurity
  • Baby M, May 2010, Miscarriage

Kristin's Baby (Mama KK):

  • Ariel Grace, born on July 28, 2009 at 18 weeks 5 days. Lived 5 minutes.

Leleisme's Babies:

  • Ayla and Juliet, October 20, 2009 at 20 weeks.
  • Bayli and Thomas on June 8, 2011 at 21 weeks 2 days.

Matthew Chase Sims: April 25th, 2006 due to prematurity.

Melissa's Son:

  • Born at 21 weeks in June 2011 due to a bacterial infection, lived for 30 minutes.

Nicky's Son:

  • Samuel, August 8, 2001, prematurity.

Nina's Son:

  • Coleman Parker Garibay, September 14, 2005, lost at 6 months gestation and passed from prematurity.

Paula's Baby:

  • Reya, September 18 2011, Prematurity due to extreme Pre-eclempsia 

Yvette's Son:

  • Erik Richard, July 29, 1981, prematurity.

Birth Defects:

Aaron and Kristine's Son:

  • Luke Ervin Seitz, born July 21, 2011 with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, and passed on June 28, 2011.

Amy's Babies:

  • Mateo, Anthony, and Ian born on May 6, 2008 at 23 weeks and 3 days.
  • Mateo was born still.
  • Anthony passed away from Transposition of the Great Vessels.
  • Ian passed away after a short stay in the NICU.

Avaleigh: July 25, 2011, born still due to Down Syndrome.

Baby Anissa, born December 2, 2008, stillbirth from birth defects.

Baby Khalil, born August 14, 2009, stillborn, born still from birth defects.

Beth's Son:

  • Ethan Connor Brockwell, May 3, 2006 - August 17, 2006. Born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome.

Christopher: November 4, 1979, due to pulmonary atresia, a congenital heart defect.

Christopher's Son:

  • Aidan, born with brain malformation on December 16, 2008 and passed on December 19, 2008.

Cora Mae McCormick:

Ellen's Son:

  • Shane Michael, born October 10, 1971 and died October 11, 1971 from heart complications before his mother could wake from anesthesia. She never saw or held him.

Julie's Daughter:

  • Brianna Elizabeth, born January 29, 1998 and died March 7, 1998 from a heart defect.

Kathryn's Son:

Raquel's Son:

Ruth's Son:

Shannon's Baby

Suzy's Son:

Venita's Son:

  • Matthew Connor - February 26, 2005, born at 26 weeks, passed from Necrotizing Enterocolitis (NEC).

Wendy's Baby

  • Reed Allyvion Miners, passed away July 5th 2003 at one hour old from Primary Myocardial Disease, a congenital heart defect.

Infant Loss:

Amy's Sons:

  • Nathaniel, born August 24, 2001 and died August 29, 2001 from an undiagnosed metabolic disorder.
  • David, born May 11, 2010 and Died January 24, 2011 from a myriad of complications resulting from a liver transplant.

Angie's Daughter:

  • Leia Sky Williams, born October 6, 2011, passed away from Group Beta Strep.

Baby Dominic:

  • January 16, 2002, SIDS

Baby Kash Michael:

  • Born June 3, 2011 and died September 28, 2011.

Carey's Triplet Sons:

  • Rudyard, Desmond, and Oscar, June 4th, 2011, born at 22 weeks due to of E. coli infection.

Cecily's Sons:

  • Nicholas and Zachary, October 27th, 2004.

Heather and Joe's Twins:

Jana's Son:

JennK's Son:

Jenni's Babies:

  • Malakai Zachary born still March 10, 2007 due to Anencephaly.
  • Five more angels, July, 2007 - May, 2010. Miscarriages.

Kara's Daughter:

  • Catherine Grace, born August 10, 2012, passed August 12, 2012, due to prematurity brought on by HELLP syndrome.

Lisa's Daughter:

  • Kaitlyn Grace, born sleeping at 38 weeks on Saturday, May 13th, 1995. Died from a true knot in her umbilical cord.

Matt and Lauren's Baby:

  • Isla, born 14 weeks premature on August 23, 2011 and died on October 10, 2011.

Rachel's Daughter:

  • Mina Kathryn, born February 18, 2009, died February 24, 2009, due to complications with her PICC line.

Scribbles412's Baby:

  • Baby R, May 24, 1998, Medicine Administration by RN who didn't know or ask. 

Stephanie's Son:

  • Silas, prematurity.

Venita's Son:

  • Matthew Conner Webb, born January 11, 2005 and died February 26, 2005. He was born at 26 weeks and faced many obstacles in his short life.

Child Loss:

Aimee's Babies:

  • Ziggy Ann born sleeping on January 21, 2009.
  • Frank born sleeping May 21, 2010.
  • Liberty Ann born March 30, 2011 and died on April 19, 2011.

 Ally's Son: Collin

  •  Collin: born on August 9th, 2008. He passed away 30 minutes later from cardiac arrest after an emergency c-section due to a placental abruption.

Amy's Baby:

  • Nicholas, born December 14, 2005, died April 19, 2006 from SIDS.

Claudia's Son:

  • Max Corrigan, born November 14, 1987 and relinquished to adoption on November 18, 1987.

Colleen's Babies:

  • Bryce Philip born May 26, 2009 and died September 1, 2009 due to SIDS
  • Ashton Karol, stillborn on February 24, 2010 at 17 weeks.

Jenny's Daughter:

  • Addison Leah, June 13, 2008, accidental death.

Jessica and Mark's Daughter:

  • Hadley Jane, born October 9, 2001 and died October 11, 2007.

Lanie's Sons:

  • Jake, born August 14, 2005 died August 27, 2005 due to prematurity and hydrops.
  • Sawyer, born November 17, 2009 died December 26, 2009. His cause of death has not been determined because he is part of a study at the Mayo clinic for heart arrhythmias - SIUDS (unexplained sudden infant death)

Leslie's Son:

  • Cullen, September 11, 2010, stillbirth.

Mindy's Son:

  • Brian Vitale, accidental death, September 4, 2007 - June 3, 2010. We miss him more and more each day.

Nancy's Son:

  • Patrick, born April 10, 1977, Adoption

Pharon's Daughter:

  • Sophia Lu Boudreau, born December 21, 2006 and died October 9, 2007 from SIDS.

Rebecca and TJ's son:

  • Rafe Theobald Calvert, born on October 11th, 2009 at 26 weeks. Spent 3 months in the NICU and underwent an intestinal obstruction repair. He was released on January 11th, 2010 and we brought him home for 6 weeks. He passed away at 4 and a half months old from SIDS on February 25th, 2010.

The Stamm's Daughter:

  • Adrienne Mae, May 7, 2006, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Suzie's Son:

  • Nathan Michael King, died from SIDS November 2008.

Vanessa's Daughter:


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Read about how to help a friend through miscarriage.

Read about what to say to someone who has lost a child.

2 Comments
A note about commenting: It only takes moments to comment but makes a world of difference to an author to know they are not alone: They're with the Band! Please share your support here!

Spotlight On: Pregnancy, Infant, and Child Loss: Moving On, Without You

The creation of human life is one of the most complex and shockingly beautiful things that our bodies are designed to do. The micro-anatomy that goes into this task is so astonishingly complicated that it's a miracle any of us walk around at all. And yet, most of us do.

Most...but not all.

When a baby dies, we are fragmented. Shattered, we must pick up the pieces and put them back together as we pay tribute to our children, our tables forever missing one, our families incomplete, our treasures in heaven, our babies alive only in our hearts.

It is through our stories that they live forever. These children were here and they mattered. They were loved.

They are loved.

If you'd like to add your baby's name to our Wall of Remembrance going up on October 15, please fill this out so we can properly remember your lost little one.

I saw your pajamas last night.

No, they weren't the exact ones, of course. I returned yours to the store, along with your bassinet and baby blankets.

These were the same though, your pattern. The ones I picked out to match your nursery. Bright teal, with lime green, hot pink, and bright purple flowers. And panda bears. Lots of pandas.

I showed them to Ian, tried to brush off the longing for you, and made some lighthearted comment. He could tell it upset me, though.

It's been three years today, October 12. One would think it wouldn't hurt anymore. Or that I would have tried to heal by having another baby by now. They're wrong.

It does still hurt. In the lonely nights, when I feel the ghost of your movements, deep in my belly. In the unguarded moments when I let myself watch the baby shows on TLC. When I pass by someone pregnant, and I find myself passing a hand over my empty tummy.

I would have loved to have another baby by now, but it felt a betrayal of you. How could I insist that I missed you when I was holding a new child? Who would believe that there was a hole in my heart bearing your name when they heard my happiness over this new baby?

Is it wrong of me then, that I do crave to hold another baby in my arms?

I've given myself time, and I continue to mourn you. But I still have so much love to give. And Ian wants a baby. I want to give him this gift, to share this part of our future together. A part of me still feels I'm forsaking you to do so.

So tell me, my sweet Bella, what am I to do?

How long am I to go on missing the sound of your heartbeat, the feel of your somersaults? How long before it's “acceptable” for me to want another child? How long before I can say your name and not feel the tears in the back of my throat?

And when all these things pass?

How am I to go on living with myself?

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