I love my students

If you haven't read my previous post, you should read that first.

So today we celebrated el Dia de los Muertos. I brought in pictures of my grandparents and talked about them first, and then I told the kids that talking about my grandparents doesn't really make me very sad since they all died years ago. I miss them, but I'm not terribly sad. Then I told them about Ada and how talking about her is very sad for me because it's so recent and, well, she's my daughter. In every class you could have heard a pin drop when I was talking - and if you know 7th and 8th graders you know how rare that is! I heard lots of "awww"'s and I could tell by their faces that they really cared. I showed them the blanket and told them how we already knew it was a girl and that we named her Ada Elizabeth. I told them it was the blanket that I used to hold her. I told them that Wednesday is my due date and that today probably would have been my last day with them for a couple of months. The kids today were all so sweet.

My last class is my favorite. There are 28 kids, and 22 of them are girls. Sometimes they can be a little chatty, but for the most part they are really good kids. I think some of them were even crying today when I talked about Ada. After I talked I let other kids come up and share about a loved one they're remembering today, and in that class at least 10 kids got up to talk. (I only had a handful in the other two classes.) They have lost pets, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and teachers. Several of them cried as they talked, and then they would hug each other. When they were all done the room was really somber, so I got back up and said, "Okay, this is a happy holiday!" and they all laughed. I told them that as they did the different crafts that they should talk to each other about the fun times they had with the people (or pets) who died...and they actually did that! I heard some really great conversations.

I was so happy because rather than teaching my kids, "Here's what they do in Mexico," they actually got to experience the holiday in that culture. That's exactly what foreign language teachers should do. Anyway, I'm also happy because now my students know about this important part of my life. I felt like I was lying to them on the first day of school when I said that I didn't have any kids.

I had two different girls come up and talk to me. This first one broke my heart - she said, "I can kind of relate to your story about your baby." She went on to say that her mom had a baby last year (and here I am waiting for her to say that the baby died), but her mom put the baby up for adoption because the mom is an addict and wanted to use the money for drugs. WOW. Poor kid. She doesn't live with her mother, but somewhere out there she has a little baby brother she'll never get to know. The other girl was so sweet. As the whole class was leaving for lunch, she came over to me and all she said was, "I'm so sorry to hear about your baby." It meant so much to me to hear those words. Not all 8th graders are completely self-absorbed.

El Dia de los Muertos

I am a junior high school Spanish teacher, and one of my favorite things that I teach about all year is the Day of the Dead. It's nice sometimes to take a break from the vocabulary and grammar and just talk about the culture in places where Spanish is spoken. If you don't know much about it, the Day of the Dead (or really days of the dead) is celebrated in Mexico every year on November 1 & 2. It's an ancient Aztec tradition that was merged with Catholic beliefs when the Spanish conquered Mexico. That's why it's on Nov. 1 - All Saints' Day. Anyway, the spirit of the holiday is not sad or scary, but rather it's festive and the Mexicans mock death. They say that they are not afraid of death because they believe in life after death. (The Aztecs believed in this too, but of course it wasn't exactly the same as what Catholic Mexicans believe in today.)

Today I talked some about what the Day of the Dead is all about, and then I showed this really great 25 minute video. I hardly ever show videos, but this one is totally worth it. You see families gathered around their loved ones' graves, eating their favorite foods, reciting poems or scripture, and singing songs. There are even people selling cotton candy and peanuts in the cemetery. Children set off fireworks. There are parades and costumes. Literally, everything stops for two days and everybody spends the time with their families, celebrating and remembering the dead.

November 1 is the day to celebrate the lives of children who have died. Last year when I first saw this video and heard it phrased that way, I thought it was a little weird. Why have a special day for children? But now I understand. I would love it if my whole community stopped working for two days and spent the time telling stories about loved ones who have passed away. I could have a day every year to tell people about Ada. Family really is the top priority for people in Mexico.

Tomorrow we are going to celebrate the Day of the Dead in my classroom. I've invited my students to bring in pictures of loved ones who have passed away or an item that reminds them of the person. I am going to take in pictures of my 3 deceased grandparents, but I also plan to take Ada's blanket. I want to tell my students about her, but only if I can do it in a happy way. If I feel like I'm going to get too emotional, I just won't do it. I think it would really help them understand the holiday. We're going to put all of the items on a table and then decorate the table with crafts that they make, just like they do in Mexico.

One interesting thing today is that I asked my students if any of them have traditions in their families to remember loved ones who have passed away. Two girls in the same class said that on their grandmothers' birthdays, they go eat at her favorite restaurant and order her favorite meal. Another girl said that on her grandmother's birthday they make a cake and tell stories about her. I thought these stories were so neat, and I want to have a tradition for Ada. I think at sunrise on her birthday I will always visit the beach where we scattered her ashes. We're also going to do that on Wednesday, her due date. I can't believe it's only 6 days away.

Hunter wanted Ada to be born on Halloween, but I was hoping for election day or (my second choice) one of the Days of the Dead. I had no idea I would be remembering her on the Day of the Dead instead...

Nope

I am definitely not pregnant. Oh well, maybe next month...

Anger

So far, I haven't really felt anger. But lately - I mean, today - I am extremely irritable.

I am angry because I really thought I was pregnant again but now I'm pretty sure I'm not. I even stupidly took a pregnancy test yesterday even though I knew it was probably too early and of course, it was negative.

I am angry because I saw a picture today of a friend who is very pregnant and due around the same time as I was. That should be ME. I have nothing against her, but it should be me, too.

I am angry because all I have to look at is my one picture of Ada. ONE picture. That's all I get. I stared at her picture for a long time today and cried and cried for like an hour. I even got her blanket back out of her box so that I could hold it close. I can't even describe how much I wish she were wrapped up inside of it.

I am angry because I will never get to hold Ada again. Okay, maybe I will in heaven (I don't pretend to know how that works though), but that's not much comfort at the moment.

I am angry because I lost my only daughter. What if I never have another girl?

I am angry because I feel guilty about that last statement. I know I would love a boy as much as a girl and I would be thrilled just to have a healthy baby, but I can't help it. I was so excited to be having a girl!

I am angry because I am tired of hearing everybody who lost their babies describe them as "angels." I'm sorry, but your baby is not an angel. We do not become angels when we die. Angels are spiritual beings that God created separate from man. (This site has some good explanations.) Didn't anybody pay attention in Sunday school? People just tell themselves whatever they want to make themselves feel better.

I am angry because I have lost my passion for teaching. I hope it comes back.

I am angry because this week I am teaching about the Day of the Dead, one of favorite topics to teach about, and this year I'm afraid I'm going to cry in front of my students when I tell them how it's a happy holiday in Mexico to remember loved ones who have passed on. Why don't we have a day like that every year where we all stop everything and remember?

I am angry because I feel like I have nothing left to give anyone. I rarely call or email friends anymore because it's too much effort. I'm just not proud of who I am right now.

I am angry because people who love me ask me how I am doing and I don't even know how to respond.

I am angry because I look at this wonderful picture taken of Hunter and I this summer and I see how happy we were. I am angry because I know that I will never, ever feel that way again. I might be happy again, yes, but I will never have my innocence back and I will never get over the loss of my firstborn.

So, yay for me because apparently I'm on to the next stage of grief. Or maybe it's just PMS...and that possibility makes me angry.

Flowers for Ada

At our church every week somebody sponsors the flowers. You don't pick out the flowers or anything, but you pay for them and then in the bulletin it says who gave the flowers. They're almost always given in memory of somebody or to celebrate a birthday or anniversary. Today we gave the flowers at church in memory of Ada. I wanted next Sunday because it was the one before her due date, but somebody had already signed up for that week. This week was appropriate though, because it's All Saints' Sunday. It was so nice to see Ada's name in print somewhere other than the program for her memorial service.

I was happy that the flowers were so beautiful! I had to laugh when I saw that they were orange and purple (with a few sunflowers mixed in) because those are Clemson's colors where my husband and I both went to college and where we met.

Whoever pays for the flowers gets to take them home, although a lot of the time I think they're passed on to homebound church members. We could have done that, but I really wanted them. I know that might sound selfish of me and if I had given the flowers for any other reason I would probably have passed them on to somebody else, but this is one of the few things I will ever have for Ada and I wanted them for myself. They really brighten up our home just like all of the flowers we got right after we lost her.

Book recommendation

I just got Empty Cradle, Broken Heart by Deborah L. Davis from the library and I wish I had read this book a couple of months ago. It is wonderful and I highly recommend it for those of you who have lost your babies. I wish that everybody who knows me would read this book. Since I realize that's unreasonable to ask, here are a few excerpts for my friends and family who care enough to read this blog:

Unfortunately, many friends and relatives do not recognize the depth of your loss. It is difficult for them to imagine your grief over a baby you never saw or perhaps held only briefly. Even if your baby died later on in infancy, you may feel as though you are expected to grieve minimally and be "back to normal" after the first few weeks or months have passed. Add to this the fact that death is an uncomfortable topic to discuss, and you may begin to feel isolated, unwelcome to talk and share your feelings. Because your grief is ignored or considered unnatural, you may wonder if your baby and the events surrounding his or her life and death are insignificant. Moreover, friends and relatives may have never seen the baby, so you have even fewer memories to share with others. These feelings of isolation, being the only one who knew the baby or the only one who cares, can make grieving very painful. p. 6

Memories are important for the bereaved. Dwelling on memories is a way to experience a more gradual goodbye. Unfortunately, when your baby dies before or shortly after birth, you have only a few memories and it is unclear how this baby fit into your life. Your baby is gone, and you have little tangible evidence that he or she really existed. p. 6

While the death of a parent or friend represents a loss of your past, when your baby dies you lose a part of your future. You grieve not only for your baby, but for your parenthood. p. 5

Although many people expect grieving parents to recover and "get back to normal" within a few weeks or months, grief appears to be an open-ended process of recovery with no tangible ending. Parents gradually regain steady functioning, but many report that "back to normal" can take several years. Some parents feel that "back to normal" is an unrealistic goal, that this experience has changed them forever. p. 10

Resolution takes time. Of the mothers [interviewed] in this book, most needed more than four years to feel resolved. Some mothers needed less time, some mothers needed more. Some mothers still do not consider themselves resolved. p. 19

My reaction: Four years??? Really? Please tell me I'm not going to feel like this for four years.

After the first weeks or months following your baby's death, you may feel isolated from friends and family. You may notice that the initial rush of support from others subside. People seem to expect you to be back to normal... Ironically, as the first few months pass, your numbness wears off and you really start grappling with difficult feelings, such as anger and despair. Many mothers report that the third or fourth month is the most difficult, and yet people aren't as supportive when they need it most. You may feel that you are grieving alone, that on one else misses your baby the way you do, that no one cares but you. p. 41

I agree, the third month was the most difficult. Practically half of my posts on this blog were during the third month. (I'm now in the 4th month, if you were wondering.)

I need to preface this next quote by saying that I have not for one minute felt suicidal, but reading this made me cry because I can understand where this mother's coming from: I knew exactly where the gun was and I was wondering how I could do it... Then I would think, "No, I can't do that. I would really hurt a lot of people." And then I'd think, "No, I wouldn't, they would just go on with their lives just like they did after Jessica died." p. 43

I just read back over all of the quotes I posted, and after reading them you're probably feeling sad and maybe sorry for me or concerned about me. Reading this book doesn't make me feel down though - it just makes me feel like, "Wow, I'm not the only one who has gone through this before. My feelings are normal." In fact, it makes me feel better. I realize that it might take a while, but I will come through this. I've been feeling more positive lately, but as this book reminds me, grief is not linear and it comes and goes for a long time. Just don't think I'm crazy for thinking about Ada every hour of every day. I'm a mother and that's what I'm supposed to do.

Jesus wept

I have been seeing a Christian counselor for the last couple of weeks. I have never been to a counselor before, but I thought it would probably be a good idea to talk through my grief. Last week was pretty much a get to know you session, but yesterday I went again and it was helpful. There are several points that came up, and I mainly want to write them down so I don't forget.

In my mind, Ada is perfect. She never did anything wrong and I can't imagine her ever doing anything wrong. I'm afraid I will compare my future children to her. Well, the counselor basically said, "So what?" So what if when my child acts up I think, "I bet Ada wouldn't do that"? As human beings we make comparisons all the time. He asked me if I had ever dated anybody before Hunter, which I did, and asked if I ever had a fleeting thought that I wish Hunter would be better at doing (fill in the blank) like "Fred" was. Well sure, I wish Hunter gave more compliments like one or two guys I dated. Then the counselor pointed out, this doesn't mean that I wish I was married to "Fred" (no!), and it doesn't make me a bad wife. In the same way, I will not be a bad mother to a future child if I have thoughts about Ada. It will not impact my ability to love and cherish that child for who s/he is.

Another point that the counselor brought up is how I'm handling grief. He has observed that I'm a logical person and I think things through. He said he's sure that I know that there are 5 stages of grief, and that I'm subconsciously checking off each stage as I go through it. I laughed, because there's no "subconcious" about it - I'm very aware of each stage as I go through it. He reminded me that grief is something that we walk through and that we have no control over. It's not something we run though. It's kind of like what I mentioned in a recent post, how when we first lost Ada I thought surely I would be through the grief process and be on with my life in 6 months. I wanted to set some sort of arbitrary time limit for myself. That's not how it works though; we don't run through grief, we walk through it.

God has been very absent to me. I know abstractly that God cares about me, loves me, and even is sad for me that we lost Ada. Last night the counselor and I talked for a while about the story of Lazarus and how Jesus' first reaction when he heard Lazarus had died was to weep. For some reason, this story was exactly what I need to hear. I grew up in church so of course I know the story well, but I had not thought about it since we lost Ada. Martha's sentiments are pretty much mine exactly. I feel like if God had been present, Ada would not have died; therefore, God must have been absent. How does Jesus respond to Martha's accusations? He weeps. He doesn't explain himself to her, but he weeps for her and with her. The most touching thing that anybody has done for me since Ada died is to cry for me. I have a number of friends and family members who have told me they've cried for Ada and for me, and that's all I need to hear. I know everybody worries about what to say to me, but crying is enough because it shows you care. Anyway, last night I got this very concrete image of Jesus crying for Ada, and that was what I needed. Someday I hope to understand it all better too, but all I really need to know right now is that God cares.

Hearing a baby's cry

I debated on whether or not I should write this post because I know that my friend reads this blog pretty regularly and I don't want to upset her in any way. But Emily, I think we've talked enough that you understand where I'm coming from...

My friend Emily had her baby today. Her husband called me soon afterwards to say that the baby had arrived and that everything went well. The baby's name is Brian Alexander and he was pretty big at 8 lb, 3.5 oz. Soon before we hung up, I heard Brian crying in the background in that cute loud squawking way that newborns cry.

That was really hard for me. I could imagine Emily holding her new baby just like I held Ada. I can picture the hospital and all of the little details of the hospital room. The only difference? Her baby is crying. Her baby is not lying there still, with no breath. Her baby is more than 4 times the size that Ada was. Ada was due two weeks from tomorrow, but I won't get to hear her cry. I will never hear her cry. Right now we should be getting all of the final preparations ready, but there's nothing to do but cry myself.

I thought I might go visit Emily in the hospital, but I'm not sure if I can handle that. Fortunately she's in a different hospital, but I still think it might bring back too many memories for me. I've held new babies since I lost Ada and they made me feel joy rather than pain, but I think this might be different because Emily and I found out we were pregnant within about 4 days of each other. I'm worried that whenever I see Brian I'm going to think about how big Ada should be. Then again, seeing Emily get bigger and bigger never really bothered me, so why should this? I'm sure that when I see Brian's cute little face and fingers and toes I will smile and enjoy holding a precious new baby boy. I am so glad he arrived safely! I will never take that for granted like I used to.

On another note, we are providing the flowers at church this Sunday in Ada's memory. The church secretary called and asked me what to write. I said to write that the flowers are in memory of Ada Elizabeth and that her due date was November 5, 2008. The secretary got really quiet after I said that. I cried a little when I hung up the phone, but I am looking forward to seeing Ada's name in the bulletin this Sunday. I also kind of hope it will be a reminder to the people in our church that we have not forgotten about her and that we're not "over it." Nobody ever mentions her anymore.

Good Days

I always think to post when I am having a bad day or when something makes me sad. I thought I should put up a positive post here for all of you who are wondering how I am. I really do feel better. I still have my sad moments, like last night when I saw a family picture taken while I was pregnant. That made me cry, but only for a little while. Hunter was there and he is so great at talking to me and listening to me when I am upset. But besides that one little time, I really have not cried or been sad for about 3 or 4 days. I think that's pretty good! I think about Ada and I miss her all the time, but anybody who has lost a loved one can tell you that it does get easier with time. Hunter and I had a great weekend of doing nothing besides going on a couple of walks, eating some good food, and watching several movies. Yesterday was his birthday and that's what he wanted to do. We've just really enjoyed each other's company.

Denial

I always knew that denial is one of the early stages of grief. About a week after Ada died, I thought that I had not gone through that stage, but my mom pointed out that I was in it when we first went to get the ultrasound. I had not felt Ada move in a while, but I was sure that there was some explanation besides the obvious. When Hunter and I went for the ultrasound at 11:30 that morning, I suggested that he take his car too so he could go on to work since it was close by. Fortunately for me, he had already come to terms with reality. When the technician first told me the horrible news, I turned to him in shock but I realized that he already knew.

So until last night, I thought that was my denial stage - I thought it lasted less than 24 hours. I was reading about grief last night though, and I came across this quote: "Denial usually involves either the facts of the loss, the significance of the loss to the survivor, or the irreversibility of the loss." When we first lost Ada, I was devastated. I never, never had been that low or anywhere close. Even so, I remember reading another lady's blog who had lost her baby about 6 months earlier. I couldn't believe that she was still keeping a blog after 6 months and that she had over 100 posts. I thought that was unhealthy. I thought that I would be moved on in 6 months. I knew I would still miss Ada, of course, but I didn't think I would still dwell on it so much. Now, I do believe that I will be in much less pain - I already am - but I realize now that this is a loss that never goes away. I was in denial about how much this loss would affect me. Now I also realize that it took a while for reality to sink in that Ada was gone. When I picked up her ashes from the funeral home I cried and cried because I knew that meant I would never hold her again. All I kept thinking to myself was that I would never hold her or see her again. I think that was my way of coming to terms with the reality of my loss.

I know this post is kind of random since all of this happened a while ago, but it's interesting now to look backwards and see what stages I have gone though.