SIDS Awareness: Sarah's 10th Birthday

So....

Fall is apparently "Everything Awareness" season. It's all over the place, mental health awareness, SIDS awareness, suicide awareness, cancer awareness, Cranio awareness.. the list goes on... Has anyone else noticed this? So I've decided to write an "awareness" blog for each thing I've personally or closely have experienced. This will be my assignment this fall for myself, so tune in to all my different testimonies and stories along with various info that may or may not be helpful to you. (hopefully it will be) Also, I have picked up many new followers on facebook (Thanks so much for your support!) who don't know all of my stories so everyone is in for a depressing treat! Ha. Only sorta kidding. My hope is truly to inspire your compassion for others that go through these things, while giving yourself grace in whatever you are going through yourself. You are not alone.

Since my daughter Sarah's birthday is today, I'm going to start this kick-off with her! She would've been ten years old. I can't believe she'd be that old. She was such a perfect little baby (except for the fact that she woke up at 4 am very regularly), but she was truly an angel. I could take her anywhere. Nursing her was so harmonious. She was our second baby, but our first daughter. Our son, who was only almost 2 years older, adored her. But one week before Christmas, I laid her down for an afternoon nap and she never woke up. My heart ripped out of my chest and I never got all of it back. You can read the full story of her death here. 

It took 10 long traumatic weeks for them to tell me that it was officially SIDS. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Actually, her even more official diagnosis was SUID. Want to know what that stands for? Sudden Unexplained Infant Death. Do you know the difference? Nothing, except she was on her belly.

SIDS or SUID is the toughest pill to swallow. It's one big question. Scientists don't have answers. Doctors have these "risk prevention rules" but those rules don't stop it from happening. SIDS is not suffocation. It's not choking. It's not overheating. (and preventing these horrible things are always a great thing, but it's not SIDS prevention) They literally can not find one logical reason or clue as to why these babies are dying. They have been in beds, in cribs, in carseats, in swings, on their backs, on their bellies, on people's chests... and there's still no answers. Monitors are nice for peace of mind, but they don't save babies from SIDS. (They can save babies who have other conditions, but not from SIDS) I don't say all this to scare you, but to bring to light the realistic facts that us SIDS parents have to live with every day of our lives. It is very scary. Ugh.. these cold facts.

Losing Sarah was like screaming towards a chasm that I couldn't cross. Everything in me tried to bring her back to me. I would have dreams of her "waking back up." In fact, 10 years later, I still have dreams like that from time to time. It physically hurt. My heart felt like a dull knife just ripped it out. I felt empty inside. I felt like a failure. I had never prayed harder in my life when the paramedics were working on her, and the answer was "no." My arms were empty. My breasts were full of milk for a baby that was no longer there. My head hung low for what seemed like forever. I suffocated in my tears. I irrationally hated Christmas for this. (I'm still working on this hate) I hate the baby dolls that look real. I envied families that had all their kids, healthy and alive (and still struggle sometimes in certain respects). So many memories, both happy and horrifying.

For 7 years I stubbornly celebrated her birthday as if she were here still. Cupcakes, and balloons and friends. And now I can't bring myself to get into her birthday at all. Feels like a slap in the face. I still do the "Letting go of balloons" because her siblings demand to be able to give her birthday cards to her. So I've picked my battles.

The hurt is still real and present. And it will always be, but I find that comforting. I don't ever want to not ache for her. The ache persists because my love does. I will carry this brutal beautiful ache with me for the rest of my life.

If you've lost a baby, whether you were still pregnant, or they were infants.... I see you. I know your pain. I know that heaviness. You want to dive in and feel all of it and suppress it all at the same time. I know you not only grieve your baby, but you also grieve yourself. You grieve your spouse. You grieve your old relationship. Take heart and seek one another again. It's worth the work. Time does not heal all wounds, but it does allow the space for healing.

Hope.

There is hope.

My nephew who was 3 months older than Sarah

Not only do I have hope that I'll see her again, yet that is so far into the future. My hope also resides in my present comfort. I have children that give me glimpses of what she'd be like if she were here. I get hugs and kisses from little faces that love me as their mom and insist on remembering Sarah, even though most of them have never met her. I find comfort in my family and friends that listen to my heartache and acknowledge my daughter. I find comfort, still to this day, holding little babies for tired mamas that need a break or are just willing to let me hoard all the cuddles whilst they are around me. She lives in all these comforts. Her sweet spirit is a part of all that Love out there as she is with the ultimate Love. My hope is in the continuing of God's provisions for such comfort and fellowship.

If you know someone, close to you, who suffers with grief of losing a child;
Never stop asking them every once and a while how they are doing or feeling. Maybe it's been months, maybe years. And then just listen and don't be afraid of their tears.
Sometimes, it's no words at all and it's a long deep hug.
Be sensitive to their triggers with the trauma around the situation.
Give them opportunities to honor their child.
Remember their birthdays and death anniversaries, (or Angel Days some like to say)
Honor them on holidays.
Don't be afraid to ask them honest questions. (ex: "Does it bother you when...?" "Is it ok to talk about....?" "Can I do___ for you?" )

Our son Isaiah- 2 yrs old

I want to kindly put out this warning to all family members of parents that suffer from pregnancy/infant loss.... Family members are some of the main people that hurt us the most, simply because the expectations of how we desperately need to be supported are high. Please, I urge family members to never assume anything when it comes to the needs of these parents. Keep these communications open and be extra graceful because these poor parents are already beating themselves up enough, feeling like failures in the worst way, it's a burden that's not fair to carry. Be as gentle as you can. Suicidal feelings of newly grieving parents are very high and usually it's having other kids around that keep us from dying along with our babies. I remember I had this carnal need to stay alive for my 2 year old son.

God has blessed me with 4 more babies after her. All girls of course. It was like God's apology for taking her from me. (I may be just kidding on that one.) But they really have made this life good. It'd be better with Sarah still here, but it is still good. If time has done anything for me, it's brought me time to have a full house of all her siblings and time to continue a rich relationship with my husband.



 "Good night, my love, this moment with you now is ending... 
It was so heavenly, holding you... close to me... 
It will be heavenly to hold you again in our dreams..."
~from a song I have sung to all my babies and still do.

Happy Birthday Blue (berry).