Raisinglittlegrays

On October 25, 1988, American President Ronald Reagan designated the entire month of October 1988 as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.October 15 Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day Campaign began in 2002 as an American movement started by Robyn Bear, Lisa Brown, and Tammy Novak. Together, they petitioned the federal government, as well as the governors of each of the 50 states, in conjunction with the first observation of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day in October 15, 2002, 20 states signed proclamations recognizing the date as such. As a result of the American campaign effort, Concurrent Resolution 222, Supporting the goals and ideals of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day was passed in the House of Representatives on September 28, 2006. (Wikipedia). Pregnancy and Infant loss is something that should be talked about, and should be heard. It should be heard with acceptance, love, and most of all support. Women shoudl not be ashamed,

My sweet Hasting, Annestyne, and Chantry, I am so sorry that your little innocent souls have had to know what grief is. I am so sorry that your brother died, and that you never got to meet baby Sadler. I am sorry that mommy left you for so long, and I'm sorry that sometimes mommy seems really sad. I know that sometimes you wish it was still the way that it "used to be", even if Sadler only was a baby in my tummy. Mommy does too. I want you to know that I love you very much, and that even though you don't know it (or may not understand it) right now, and everyday you are helping mommy to heal. You are teaching mommy how to heal. I never knew that through your innocence, I could learn so much. I have watched the 3 of you so closely since Sadler died, and you have silently been teaching me a few things about healing. Hasting, you recently broke your elbow. You were running being silly, tripped, and landed on your arm wrong. You played, you fell, but

Tonight I was going through my phone, looking through old notes I had left myself in my phone. I noticed one from December 31, 2017. It was before 2018 hit us, and 10 days before our world started to  turn completely upside down.  It was a list of all the good things and accomplishments of 2017.  “Became pregnant with our fourth child”.  Just like that.  I remembered something I’ve been doing a LOT of recently. I’ve caught myself if the good moments, reflecting, but not in a good way. I look at old photos, from before Sadler, or before his pregnancy took a high risk turn, and I just bask in those moments of happiness. I try so hard to remember the happiness i felt in those photos. And just like that, hello guilt.  Almost 5 months has passed, and while there is no routine of how grief plays out, you begin to realize patterns and ways of how you deal and cope with all things associated with your grief. But as the time goes on, you start to notice things changing. Your thoughts a

It’s been almost 5 months.  Yet I still haven’t been able to fully unsubscribe from all the junk emails from all the hideous baby crap. There is SO MUCH.  “Buy one get one, one daily only @ Motherhood!” “25% off at Buy BUY baby”  “8 weeks postpartum Lindsay”  Mama Natural “Today’s the day! It’s Your due date” — enter in the name of of of the one million baby related websites there are these days.  Every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME, I go to check my emails, another one squeezes it’s way in. And when that happens, another very-detailed, very sad memory of a moment has an open window.  Letters in the mail. Social security cards. Insurance information. Accidental bills mailed to your address showing every procedure and every dime, and every detail of your dead sons expenses.  Will it ever stop? Is there a button for “un-subscribe” for all these constant reminders that your baby is dead. Will my phone EVER forget to auto-correct the words Infant loss, NICU, grief, and other words relate

To my sweet, loving, rainbow: One year of you. 364 days ago, you entered this world in to the hands of your daddy, in a pool full of water in the middle of our living room, while Ray Lamontagne "Hold you in my arms" was playing in the background. There was a room full of eager family and friends ready to meet you! You were the calm after my storm, and I had waited 41 weeks and 1 day to hold you in my arms for eternity. My whole pregnancy was a fear for me. It was so full of what-ifs, fears of losing you, or something going terribly wrong.  For 41 weeks and 1 day,  fear shadowed over your pregnancy. But the moment that your daddy placed you on my chest a big sigh of relief, and tears flowed. You were here, and you were safe, and we were now a family of five. It has been such a hard year, but such a rewarding one at that. You have grown so much, just within these last months. You have such a gentle and loving soul, and you have been our easiest baby yet. The Lord

I have decided to not go in to much depth about the passing of Sadler, but I do want to write about it. Writing is very healing for me. The following blog speaks of infant death, please only read at your discretion. Sadler's tiny body reacted negatively to the surfactant that was administered to him to help with the maturity of his lungs. His vitals were stable, until he was given the first dose of those steroids. The first call to come down to the NICU was terrifying. What's even more terrifying is walking in to the nursing staff and the neonatologist reviving your child. Chest compressions and intubation. Stats dropping to a low, low. Loud noises from machines going off. Sitting there, unable to do anything as your child lays there helpless and lifeless. The hospital chaplain approaches and asks if we would like to pray, and of course being a family of faith we do. We cry, and we pray. We pray, and we cry. I text my best friend, Shannon, and asked that she

“Aww, did she hit herself?”   the clerk asked Chad, as Annestyne’s massive facial bruise unveiled itself. She had bopped her head on the swing that’s hanging from the tree at the beach house, and it was nearly impossible to miss.  “Mommy, can you get this off for me?” Hasting asked, as he handed me his new cool pair of shades.  And then it happened. The one question parents for some reason can’t seem to escape, no matter how many kids you have in your family. Except it cuts you like a knife when you’ve recently lost a child.  “Are you going to have anymore kids?”.  I guess he thought I didn’t hear her, so I never brought it back up. I didn’t even hear what his response was.  I carry around a physical scar, but no one sees it.  We have another child, but no stranger knows it.  Strangers don't even know he existed, unless we bring him up. Escaping reality is next to impossible.  Every time Sadler isn’t acknowledged it stings, more now than it ever will. 

"Above all, show your love. Show up. Say something. Do something. Be willing to stand beside the gaping hole that has opened in your friend’s life, without flinching or turning away. Be willing to not have any answers. Listen. Be there. Be present. Be a friend. Be love. Love is the thing that lasts." When I first learnt that I was pregnant with Sadler I needed someone other than my husband to express my heart-racing "holy crap, I'm pregnant and scared" worries with. It was you. You had your own worries. Your own pregnancy. Your own scares.  But you were there. From one hospital to another you came and sat by my side to confirm our little 8 week 2 day old baby with his tiny beating heart. We began these pregnancies together. We walked hand in hand. We grew closer than we had ever been in the almost 4 years of knowing one another. You became my Christina Yang, and I your Meredith Grey. Every day it was normal for us to call each other and as

"Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know a heart thats broke is a heart that's been loved"..."When God takes you back he'll sing hallelujah you're home". Today we went to church, for the first time since I'm not even sure when. It's also where we had the funeral of our son. We got in the car, and I wasn't sure how I was going to handle pulling back in to that church. I think it's partially why I was secretly hoping that when we DID return back to church it would be elsewhere. But, in all fairness, I've grown very fond of Pastor Daniel and the whole congregation of that church. So I decided not to speak up to my husband about visiting a different church, because I knew once we got inside I would be happy I chose to come back to one of the places we said our final goodbyes to our son. We pulled in, and my eyes did swell with tears, but I held them back. Flashbacks from the funeral just kept creeping up

3 days before you arrived. I think Thursday will haunt me forever. This is the last photo I have from a bump day with you. Every Thursday we would celebrate a new "bumpiversary" together. One more week that we could celebrate the life you lived inside of me. One more day that I could take another bump photo with you.  Now those are gone. Every Thursday since the passing of Sadler, a little bit of guilt sets in. I feel like I took advantage of the days that we had together; like I should have done more. I know that guilt came come with grief. I only hope that as I continue to heal, it's something that will quickly surpass. Deep down, I want to be happy. Grief sucks. Guilt sucks. It eats you alive, and is completely impossible to ignore. Each day, my mind struggles to comprehend all of the different feelings and emotions that come with the loss of a child. I find myself overthinking everything. It will get better Lindsay. This is a part

Sadler Boone Gray Born: February 16, 2018 4:48am 2 pounds 9.6 ounces 13.78 inches long I've started writing this in pieces. And I have all intentions of finishing it. Hopefully. Today is February 25, 2018.  Yesterday we buried our son. One week and one day ago, our son passed away. I don't know when I will finish this, or even if I will finish this (I sure hope to, because I know one day I'll be grateful that I took the time to write it, and remember it all). Grieving is hard. Grieving the loss of your child is even harder. Sadler and I had such a hard time together from the beginning. What started as a sub chorionic hemorrhage lead to something much more. Chantry was young. SO young when he was conceived. And of course, everyone knows he wasn't planned. But he was so loved, from the very beginning. God saw him fit for our family, if even for a brief moment. I don't even know how to start this birth story. I never i