Tag Archives: pregnancy loss support

A Healing Journey for Mind, Body, and Spirit – Guest Blogger Catherine Keating

Posted on by
Reply

The first time I saw pregnant on our Home Pregnancy Test, I was elated.  A little surprised it had happened so quickly, but completely ready to dive into the world of being Mommy.  It had never occurred to me that things might not end up my way – having been a nurturer all my life, it was a given that I would soon welcome my own little bundle into this world.

It was not to be.  About ten weeks after that test, a typical Friday of preschool teaching became a nightmare of a weekend, as we spent the weekend losing our precious baby.  Losing this baby had not been on my radar, and I was thrown into the most intense grief I’d ever known.  I screamed and cried and soul searched, and tried to make sense of it, finally coming to the conclusion that these things did happen, and I wasn’t to be excluded.  We decided to try again.  Soon enough, I was expecting once more.  Even more quickly, this time, my hopes were dashed.  At eight weeks on the dot, heavy bleeding gave way to another day at the hospital, and the ultrasound that ended with a tech telling me, “No heartbeat. Second failed pregnancy.”

After my second loss I did not know where to turn.  I simply did not know how to assimilate what was happening into my schema of this world – a place I loved fiercely – I did not know how to go on being the person I was while holding these devastating losses in my heart.  One day I decided to pull out my Crayola 64 Box and some construction paper.  I remember choosing a big green piece of paper for my project – Green seemed appropriate for some reason.  I used my crayons to create a list.  I created a list of people, books, quotes, places, songs, poems, you name it, anything that inspired me.  I posted that list on my wall, and I told myself I would choose one thing daily.  And I did.  Little by little that one small thing started to bring a moment of joy, a moment of beauty back into my life.

During this time I also fell deeply into my yoga practice.  I’d been practicing for years, so it felt natural to lean into my practice for support.  Yoga gave me space to be whomever and however I was at any particular time.  It fed my spirit, and let me know that at some point, I would be ok again.

Between these two things, a yoga practice and finding small moments of beauty, I knew I was on to something.  As I worked through my own grief in this way, as I address healing for myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I felt deep within me that my methods could be beneficial for more women.  A few years later, I’m so happy to present the result of my journey.  My tool-kit for healing became a book and a website that I am so honored to be able to share with others.  There Was Supposed To Be a Baby: A Guide for Healing After Pregnancy Loss is available on my website, www.therewassupposedtobe.com,  and on Amazon.  My greatest hope is that this guide can help other women find small moments of beauty and grace, and create for themselves a path to healing spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  One form of healing cannot be achieved without another – and I hope I am able to help others find that balance.

Take care of yourself.  Take is slow.  Be gentle.  Be well.

Catherine Keating speaks from the heart and her experiences address your healing at every level.  With a  passion for health and wellness and a background in teaching and yoga, Catherine found a way to heal after her miscarriages.  As a woman who experienced the loss of two pregnancies, she knows firsthand what it means to heal physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  She is excited to share her story with you.

http://www.therewassupposedtobe.com

Bad Day: Thoughts from OC Walk Guest Blogger, Kelly Farley

Posted on by
Reply

Many of the posts I write are triggered by thoughts that come to me throughout the day or they are generated by conversations I have with many of the grieving dads I speak with.  A few days ago I was having a conversation with a dad that had lost a daughter.  We were discussing how going through the death of a child changes all aspects of who you once were and it changes many of your core beliefs, some for the better and some for the worse.  There is a sense of naivety that you lose after the death of a child.  The fact that bad things only happen to other people is one of the beliefs we tell ourselves before tragedy strikes.  But we now know that bad things can happen to anyone at any given time and there is not much you can do about it because it comes out of nowhere.

We also discussed how not everything that changes after the death of a child is bad.  One of those things is that we have experienced the worst day of our lives (I want to preface that comment with, “that is not an invitation for a test”.  I made this statement after the death of my daughter Katie and then 12 months later my son Noah died.  I learned not to say that out loud without prefacing it first with I am not looking for another challenge to see if my worst day can be beaten by another bad day).  After you go through something as profound as the death of a child, you start to not really care what others think or say.   There is not much anyone can do to you that is much worse than the death of a child.

I watch people at work running around trying to hit deadlines and stressing out like it’s the worst possible thing they have to deal with.  I don’t let work get to me like I use to, I still do my job, but I don’t stress about letting my boss down or anything along those lines.  What’s the worst thing that can happen, I get fired?  Let’s see “getting fired or the death of a child?”  I am going to go with death of a child for the worst possible thing that can happen.

The other dad and I were discussing how this way of thinking is liberating, because you are not out to impress anyone.  When you don’t care, it removes the stress of trying to impress others.  Actually, this new change in perspective (some would call it a bad attitude, it’s not, it’s an adjustment in how I see things) has actually made me better at my job.  It’s also made me a little more honest than I use to be.  I have always spoken my mind, but I tend to do it more now.  I see so many people around me afraid of confrontation or having a difficult conversation, but it doesn’t bother me, it’s almost like that filter has been removed.  I don’t look for confrontational discussions, but I do prefer honest conversations.

I hear this a lot from other grieving dads, have you experienced a similar shift in perspective?

Kelly Farley (Bereaved Dad)

Author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back

www.GrievingDads.com

“Dragonflies” by Guest Blogger Kelly Farley

Posted on by
Reply

It must have been a couple of weeks after the death of my son Noah when I first noticed the dragonflies.  It was mid-June 2006 and I had already been off work for several weeks.  I had called my office to let them know that I wasn’t going to be in for a while.  At the time I didn’t know what “a while” meant and thankfully they didn’t ask.  I spent most of my days doing small tasks around the house, just to keep my mind occupied.  The rest of the time I hung out with my wife, worked out and made lunch on the grill every day.  I was still trying to process what had happened to us and really hadn’t started to feel the full impact of the depth of my pain from the death of my son and my daughter just 18 months prior.

This particular day I decided I was going to start staining my fence.  I wasn’t in a hurry because I knew I didn’t have anything else that had to be done anytime soon.  So I just took my time and tried to enjoy the beautiful summer day.  This was the first summer I had off from working or college since I was probably 14 years old.  I had forgotten how nice it was to be able to get up when you wanted to and spend the day doing what you wanted to do versus what you had to do.  However, I was still trying to comprehend what had happened to my wife and me.  The loss of two children over 18 months had inflicted major depression and anxiety that wouldn’t allow me to do much of anything other than small tasks.  Even the small tasks were exhausting.

While I was taking a break sitting under the shade on my patio, I noticed two dragonflies hovering around my backyard.  They were not just passing through my yard; they seemed to be hanging out for a while.  I don’t live near water and I had never noticed them before, but I enjoyed watching them that day.

The next day I got up around 9 o’clock, which was typical for that summer.  I was usually up until about midnight and obviously needed the sleep to cope with the pain I was dealing with inside.   When I went outside to start working on my fence, the dragonflies were there to greet me.  The dragonflies and I spent the rest of the summer hanging out in my backyard.

I started to have other experiences with dragonflies during this same time.  I live near a bike path that leads to a local forest preserve and would often ride the 12 mile loop as part of my daily workout.  There were times when I would be riding and thinking about my son when a dragonfly would appear out of nowhere and would fly along with me at the same speed.  He would fly about 3 or 4 feet away from me, but would stay with me for a while.  I would just smile because I thought it was Noah letting me know he was ok.

It’s been just over 6 years since the loss of Noah, but because of these experiences, I think of Noah every time I see a dragonfly and I just smile.  On a recent bike ride on that same trail I came upon a swarm of dragonflies.  There must have been over a hundred of them in a fifty foot radius anywhere from 4’ to 12’ off the ground.  I stopped my bike and I just stood there in the middle of this swarm.  They were beautiful.

They must of known I was there because they would stop 2-3’ in front of me and look at me.  They would fly slowly by to let me know they were aware of my presence.  This had to be one of my best experiences in a long time.  I must have stood there for about 15-20 minutes watching them.  I even called my wife to tell her about what I was experiencing.  I felt close to Noah when I was standing there with those dragonflies.  I think it was just his way of visiting his daddy and to let me know he was thinking of me.

I have met several grieving dads over the last 2 years that also have similar personal stories when it comes to our children visiting us.  There have been other signs from Noah, but this particular one was spectacular.

Does your child send you signs?  If so, what are they?  If not, do you keep yourself open to seeing signs?

 

 

 

 

Kelly Farley (Bereaved Dad)

Author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back

www.GrievingDads.com

 

 

We Put the FUN in Fundraiser: Guest Blogger Angie Bailey

Posted on by
Reply

One night my husband and I headed out to local bar on the suggestion of a friend, and much to our surprise they were holding an event: a pub quiz! If you’ve never heard the term I can best describe it as a test of knowledge, a chance to show off all of that trivial information that you’ve collected over the years, combined with the rambunctious fun of hanging out with your friends in a local bar. The questions usually range from the ridiculous and profane to the serious, ‘Why the heck didn’t I get a degree in engineering like dad told me to!?,’ impossible to answer types, and back and forth throughout the night.

It really has something for everyone. Are you great at recognizing really terrible covers of really terrible songs? Are you the pop culture nut that everyone around the water cooler envies? Are you currently reading an academic masterpiece on the subtleties of thermodynamics? Are you a movie buff or a horticulturist? All of these things would make you great, no… essential to a good quiz team.

Since that first night we’ve made pub trivia a part of our regular weekly schedule. Every Wednesday we get together with a group of friends to pit our combined knowledge against several other regular teams. It’s always a great time.

‘Okay, okay,’ you’re saying, ‘I’m sold. What does this have to do with the OC Walk to Remember?’ I’m so glad you asked…

Geeks who Drink, a Denver-based company that hosts bar trivia at over 200 venues in 21 states, is throwing a fundraiser for our organization on Wednesday, July 11th at Durty Nelly’s in Costa Mesa. The pub quiz is made up of about 70 questions lasting 8 rounds, teams can be made up of 1 to 6 players. The cover charge to play is $10 and one entry fee per team goes into a cash purse for the winning team; the rest goes directly to The OC Walk to Remember. So the more players we have, the more money will be raised (and the more you could win!). It’s sure to be a good time, so bring your friends!

Connect with us on Facebook and let us know you’re coming!

Wednesday, July 11th at 7:00pm

Durty Nelly’s Irish Pub and Restaurant

2915 Red Hill Ave, Ste G101

Costa Mesa 92627

About the author

Angie Bailey lives in Huntington Beach, CA with her husband Kevin and 3 month old son, “Little Kevie.” Their first son, Aiden Kenneth, was born still on August 13, 2010, 37 weeks into her picture perfect pregnancy. No cause of death was ever found. She writes about life and parenting after loss at Expectations Revised.

Reconstructing Your Life: Guest Blogger Kelly Farley and His Reconstruction

Posted on by
Reply

Thank you to Kelly Farley for continuing to appear as a guest blogger for the OC Walk to Remember blog.  Kelly is author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back, which is now available for purchase on Amazon.

Reconstructing Your Life

I hear from dads (and moms) all of the time that tell me they feel like they died when their child died.  In a way they did.  Anyone that has lost a child or has gone through any profound life event will tell you that it’s not possible to go back to the person you used to be. Of course many people keep trying to get their old life back, but it’s not possible, how can it be.

Unfortunately, I was one of those people that tried to get back to the old me and it took me a while (and a lot of pain) to realize this. After the death of my daughter Katie, I did everything I could to get back to my old life as soon as possible.  I subscribed to the old way of thinking that “you have to get back to your life as soon as possible and keep your mind occupied on something else.”  I thought if I did this, I would be able to control my emotions or not even have to deal with them at all.  Maybe if I ignored them long enough, they would just go away.  Therefore, I went back to work a week after the loss of Katie.  If the emotions started to well up, I would dig in deep at work so I wouldn’t feel them.  About a month of this self abuse, these emotions started to show up in the form of extreme sadness, unexplained headaches and anxiety attacks.  All of which I never experienced before.  After about a week these symptoms, I was able to fight them back again.  I thought I had won the war, I was wrong and little did I know grief was preparing for a major battle.

I spent the next eighteen months trying to “move forward” without these strange emotions.  I allowed myself to become angry, I don’t mean mad or irritated, I mean angry to the point that I was looking for someone to unleash on.  Looking back, this was just one sign that I ignored.  The pain and sadness I carried deep down was gradually starting to make its way to the surface at such a slow pace that I barely realized that it was creeping up on me. I finally woke one morning with a sense of dread and despair I never experienced before.  I could barely function and the tears and emotions became too much for me to contain.  About a week after these symptoms started to reveal themselves, I lost my son Noah.  I realized at that moment that there was no more “digging in” to fight this enemy, I knew I had to surrender, not quit, but surrender to it and allow it to take me where it wanted to.  It took everything from me, including confidence, ego, hope and desire to live.  It replaced these things with low self-esteem, despair and not caring whether I woke up every day.

I spent close to two years in the depths of this pain.  I was slowly regaining my confidence and hope over these two years, but it was happening so slowly, it felt like I was going to live there forever and of course there were setbacks along the way.   During this time I learned that it’s important to allow yourself to experience the natural process of grief, all of it, even the really dark stuff.  As part of this experience, it requires you to become transparent and humble.  Two things that the “old me” was not very good at.

Another thing occurred to me during this time.  I realized I started to have a level of compassion that I never had before.  Stories or news that I used to hear about would not really call me to take action, but I realized they were starting to impact me on an emotional level, because for the first time in my life I realized that bad things not only happen to other people, they also happen to me.  I made it part of my responsibility to try to do something to ease the pain of others, even if it was just for a moment in time.  I realized that there is healing in helping others.  I started to gain hope for the future versus looking ahead and seeing nothing but despair.  I started to get involved in local fundraising events for people that have lost children.

Getting involved with the local child loss fundraising events created a desire in me to help others as much as possible, so I parlayed these new desires and energy into doing bigger and more ambitious projects. I created a blog that has reached grieving dads (and moms) around the world.  I also started interviewing hundreds of grieving dads in order to create a resource that captures what grieving men deal with and how they deal with the death of a child.  This resource is my new book called Grieving Dads: to the Brink and Back.  I will continue to live the rest of my life as a resource for the men and women who will follow in my footsteps of losing a child.

The old me considered himself a mentally and emotional strong guy that could weather any storm that came his way. After the death of Katie and Noah and then the aftermath of trying to survive, I realized the “old me” looked at life from a very narrow perspective and that I was caught up in the rat race of life, living for my own wants.

While going through all of the pain, I learned that after you go through a profound life event, one can pick up the pieces and put them back together again, but it can never be the same as it was before your life was shattered.  Although it is not possible to go back to the man I used to be, I believe I became a wiser, stronger and more compassionate person that has a better understanding of life and how it is supposed to be lived.

www.GrievingDads.com

Author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back - Now Available on Amazon!

Brody’s Frog Blog

Posted on by
Reply

Tia Lukehart, mom blogger shares her story…

I remember all too well the first few weeks after Brody died. I was on mission with not a goal insight. I just sat at my computer all day and all evening, searching for…something. I searched and searched but my mind was too foggy and my heart was too broken to know exactly what I was searching for. Sometimes, it involved wine and it always involved tears. I didn’t know who I was anymore; I didn’t know what I was anymore. I was just lost.

My son, Brody Michael Lukehart was born at 30 weeks and 1 day gestation. On August 21, 2011, I had a class three placental abruption and almost lost my life as well. He was 2lbs 12 ounces, 15 inches long, and the most beautiful angel I had ever seen in my life. He came into the world at 7:09 pm. I held him for the first and last time.

Continue reading →

Out to Lunch: by Guest Blogger Kelly Farley of the Grieving Dads Project

Posted on by
Reply

Thank you to Kelly Farley of The Grieving Dads Project for another thoughtful post.  We hope all of our grieving dads know they are not alone in their grief.  We all have moments like these.

Out to Lunch

A few weeks ago I had an interesting experience when I took a lunch break from work and decided to go out instead of going home to eat lunch.  Little did I know that I would get more than I bargained for when I stepped into the restaurant.  I was standing in line getting ready to place my order to take home when I heard through the rest of the noise in the restaurant, “Noah, come sit over here”.  Hearing those five words caused me to turn my head and take notice of the situation.

When I looked to my left there was a lady about my age with two children.  A little girl and a little boy, which I assume was Noah.  I would guess he was about 5 years old.  He was trying to eat his chips and salsa while his mom was guiding him to her side of the table by placing her hand on his head.  He was a cute little blond kid and his little sister was just as cute.  I couldn’t help to think about my Katie and Noah and what they would be like today.  What would they have been like?  I’ll never really know for certain, only in my imagination.

I realized I was smiling towards these little kids and I then realized the mom was looking at me.  It then dawned on me that she was probably wondering why is this guy smiling at my kids.  If I was her, I would have been thinking it.  But the reality was I was thinking about my children while watching hers and she could not have known or understood that I am a grieving dad and that I was just missing my two beautiful babies.

I paid for my food and I left for home.  It was one of those moments that just came and went, unlike the early days when this type of situation would stay with me for days.  I wasn’t even thinking about it when I left.  However, later that night I was sitting with my wife listening to music and enjoying a glass of wine.  We were talking about our day and the conversation turned to my experience earlier while I was at lunch.  When I was telling my wife about what happened, it triggered an emotional response I didn’t expect.  My wife smiled at me and I said, “It’s hard” and she said “I know, it is hard.”

The point of this story is these types of experiences will come up and they will trigger certain emotions or thoughts.  Even when you’re several years out from the death of a child, you are still vulnerable.  It came and it passed a lot quicker than it did before, but it is hard.

Kelly Farley

www.GrievingDads.com

Author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back (April 2012 Release)

 

Special Delivery Book Donation

Posted on by
1

Melanie Tioleco-Cheng’s Story…

I was eighteen weeks pregnant with Macy when we found out that she had trisomy 18.  As a pediatrician, I knew immediately what it meant–that she was likely not to live for very long, or perhaps born still.  In the subsequent weeks, we found out that she had several other major medical problems and realized that, in fact, we were fighting against all odds to meet her.  In the end, we decided that comfort care would be the most loving thing we could decide to do for Macy, and we feel lucky that we were able to spend two hours with her after she was born.

I wrote Special Delivery one night when I couldn’t sleep and was trying to figure out how to explain what was going on with Macy to my then two-year old older daughter, Kat.  There were so many unknowns so it was hard to decide what to tell her, but one thing we did want her to know was that Macy was special and that she was loved.  Kat has always been very intuitive and verbal and she knew that something was going on.  We didn’t want her to be afraid of my pregnancy or Macy’s upcoming birth, but we did want her to know that it was likely that Macy would not live for very long.

Continue reading →

Find a Purpose – by Guest Blogger Kelly Farley of the Grieving Dads Project

Posted on by
Reply

We are honored to be joined by a new guest blogger, Kelly Farley of the Grieving Dads Project.  Dedicated to helping grieving dads, the project is designed to reach out to all bereaved dads and to provide a conduit to share their stories.  One of his goals with the Grieving Dad Project is to bring awareness to the impacts that child loss has on fathers and to let society know that it’s okay for a father to grieve the loss of a child.  Kelly reminds us that a father shouldn’t have to hide his pain or feel ashamed to show his emotions.

We appreciate Kelly’s work in the loss community and are looking forward to sharing his regular posts with you.  We are also looking forward to the April release of his book: Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back.

Find a Purpose

I am a grieving dad that has lost two babies on two separate occasions.  My approach to these losses varied greatly and produced two very different results.  After the death of my daughter Katie, I tried to be the pillar of strength for everyone around me.  I was trying to fight the pain so I wouldn’t think about what happened.  I tried to put the pain into a deep dark corner of my mind hoping to never see it again.  I did everything to avoid this pain for as long as I could.

It turned out that “as long as I could” was about 18 months.  It was the first time in my life I experienced episodes of anxiety and depression.   I now know this was a result of not dealing with my pain and emotions brought on by the death of my daughter.  Shortly after the episodes of anxiety and depression started, the unspeakable happened again, I lost my son Noah.  I was sent into tailspin and found myself deep in the darkness of grief.  I finally gave in to my pain and decided to take a few months off from work to try to put my life back together and to truly allow myself to embrace the grieving process.  I stopped fighting to become the person I use to be and learned to accept that I will never be the same person again.  The pain caused by the death of a child never leaves you, but the sharpness of the pain can dull over time.

During the dark days of my pain, I knew that if I survived the despair I was feeling, I was going to do something to honor Katie and Noah.  I didn’t know what it was going to be, but clinging to that thought helped me through those dark moments.  When the fog of grief started to lift, it became clearer to me that I wanted to help other grieving dads through this very difficult experience.  To let them know they are not alone and to let them know that what they are thinking and feeling is a normal response to a not so normal situation.

I have spent that last two years blogging and speaking with men about the death of a child.  One of the things I learned from these grieving dads is that there is a common theme between the dads that are doing “ok” and the dads that are still very stuck in the grief.  The men that are doing “ok” have found a purpose, a cause, to honor their child.  Some have created care packages to give to local hospitals for parents that have lost a baby.  I interviewed one dad whose son loved to play hockey, so every year he organizes a fundraiser to purchase hockey jerseys for a team of less fortunate kids.  Another dad provides food to needy families at the Holidays.

Living to honor our child’s life can take on many forms.  The way we can honor our children is very unique and personal to the individual.  Becoming involved and participating in important events like the OC Walk to Remember is an excellent way to honor your child.  I remember the first couple of years when my wife and I walked in our local Walk to Remember.  These experiences allowed us to spend time with other families that were coping with the death of a child and to honor Katie and Noah.  I encourage each of you to participate in the October 6, 2012 event.  If you have the strength, I also encourage you to volunteer your time to help organize and plan for this walk.

I encourage anyone that has lost a child to find that one thing that honors your child and brings you hope.  It’s a way to carry on your child’s memory while helping you out of the depths of despair.

Kelly Farley

www.GrievingDads.com

Author of Grieving Dads: To the Brink and Back (April 2012 Release)