Friday, August 1, 2014

small victories

I recently told Jaxon's story to someone I didn't know very well, but had the feeling that I would be seeing her a few more times.  She lives in the same neighborhood that I work in, and her daughter was hitting it off with the little girl I nanny for, so I figured we would see them for play dates throughout the summer. 

We had been talking about her recent move here, and about the things to do around here that are kid friendly.  We were chatting a little about her daughters and what they like to do, and then came the question, "Do you have any children?"

Luckily (I guess luckily?) I have not had many people ask me this question.  The families in this neighborhood have seen me around quite a bit for the past 7 years and I think most of them know what happened by "hearing it through the grapevine." 

There was one couple that was so sweet (our kids swam a lot together last summer- while I was pregnant).  When the mom saw me for the first time after I came back to work, she pretty much ran up to me and gave me this huge hug with tears in her eyes and told me how sorry she was.  Then when I saw the dad a couple days later at church, he told me how sorry he was.  I think for most people it is so scary to do this because there is this pressure to say the right thing, to make sense of it.  Y'all there is no right thing to say, take that pressure off of yourself.  Nothing you say will make a bereaved parent feel better.  Nothing you say will make it ok.  Simply show them love, give them a hug, say how sorry you are and leave it at that.  Trust me, it means the world to someone that is hurting so bad. 

I've been asked a couple of times if I have children since Jaxon died, and each time I've had a hard time with it.  This is normal, and I'm hoping it will get easier as the time passes.  I want to talk about Jaxon.  I don't want to make people feel uncomfortable for asking though.  This is the hard part for me, because I cry and then I feel awkward and I know it just gets uncomfortable for people. 

But, getting back to the lady I was talking with at the beginning of this post, it was a small victory for me talking to her about Jaxon, because even though, yes, I got choked up, I was able to really talk about him.  Not just about the loss, but about Jaxon.  What he looked like, how he was so long and thin like JM.  And I showed her a picture of him.  She told me that she had experienced a miscarriage, and she said how sorry she was.  This is why I want to share about Jaxon.  We aren't alone.

1 in 4 women will experience miscarriage.  1 in 160 pregnancies end in stillbirth.  That is A LOT.  I know there are so many women out there who feel alone and they don't have to feel that way. 

Let's talk about it, let's share our struggles and share our victories!  When we share with women what we have overcome, it provides encouragement through the hard stuff.  We show each other that we aren't alone in the grief that makes us feel like an outsider and it gives us permission to feel the things we are feeling.  There are these tiny victories I feel that I've experienced, like all of the "firsts" after Jaxon.  Going to the grocery store for the first time, going to that first counseling session, getting out of bed sometimes, telling someone about your child that is in heaven now and risking the awkwardness and showing vulnerability, and even saying no to doing something you know will cause you pain- no matter how silly you think it will seem to someone who just doesn't get it.  I call these victories because they are so hard to do, and it feels good after doing them.  It is grieving well.