Friday, April 23, 2010

Random: Update

I had a simply delightful time with the two women I met up with today - A and S. I didn't ask them if I could use their names or tell their stories. But they are wonderful, strong women who have such a positive hope despite their pain. We all listened, shared, and of course teared up.

I guess I assumed it would be like what we do here in the blog world...the encouragement that is given bit by bit in the comments or personal emails. But this would be more a more fluid, real life "comment" time...which it was, without it sounding so corny. 

My hope is to get together with them again. I think we all need those real life mama's to be real with. This blogging community is vital. There are some days that the comments I've gotten, or the posts I've read from others have helped me make it through the day. But that sense of touch and sight and sound; that connection is vital too. To see someone's tears, or hear their voice crack from crying...and for them to hear yours. It's stepping out on a limb, but there are women who have had similar losses no matter where you live. I think the stats are skewed - that this happens more often than we think. And there will be others who can provide encouragement or wisdom or even a lighthearted distraction. I say all this, without many of you knowing I'm an introvert. So none can say that I'm on this soap box because it's easy for me to go meet random people. It's not. At all. I'm a really good hermit. (And really good at making things awkward.)

So really I just want to encourage you. We can't all fly to Ireland, or Australia, or Utah, or Ohio even (technically we can, but not financially I'm assuming). But there are women within a 3 hour drive, or even a 15 minute drive who have experienced a similar pain*. 

I'm stepping down from my soapbox now. Less writing, and more arting. I think I hear my watercolors calling me.

*The assumption is that most of us live in towns/cities of 10,000 or more. I grew up in a town of 1,000, and I know even in that population women have experienced losses.


  1. I agree about meeting with other babylost mama's in person. The first meeting I had was the December after Liam. I had connected with a woman through an on-line support group and turns out her hubby lives in NC. We had a coffee date and ended up talking for 2 hours before we both had to go, but could have easily stayed another 2. We met up a few other times when they were in town, but she has since had a rainbow baby and our communication has faded a little, which is understandable.

    The other babylost mama I met online through blogging. Turns out she works in the same town I live in! We met for coffee in Spring of 2009 and have been having weekly Friday coffee every since. I love Friday coffee with Martha. We can talk freely about our life without censoring or feeling awkward. Our conversations must sound really odd to anyone listening because in between shopping talk or dinner talk we may throw in miscarriage talk, adoption talk or dead baby talk. I think yesterday we both blurrted out several times "Just give me a baby!!!" We laugh, we cry and we have formed a wonderful friendship.

    Wow, that is a really long comment. Sorry. I'm glad you met up in real life with some other mama's who know what you are going through.

  2. Real life connections are important and vital. And it's fine for you to get on the soap box and just say it here. If you feel like saying something, I am blessed to hear it. And if you feel like creating art, I am blessed to see it.

    As I am getting to know you in a new way via this blog, I wish I were closer to have coffee with you.

  3. I'm so glad you had a nice meeting! I'm hoping to meet some soon myself! :)

  4. It's wonderful you got to experience the real thing and just beautiful how Amy and her friend have formed a long lasting friendship.

    For me it's still odd/weird that we get connected with someone else through the trauma of child loss, like Babette and I. We would never have met if it wasn't for Kara and Fionn. But she is a wonderful friend and after a while you realise life goes on and you talk about life with that person, not just loss and shattered dreams. You talk about the kaleidoscope of the new normal that Amy described so well.

    And then your friendship stands on its own two feet and grows into something even more beautiful. And that happens even with 1000s of miles between us. And it happens with online friends, too.

    And we are glad we met. And that conflict is a whole nother ball game... when you realise good things come from the loss of your child. Just writing these words make me want to scream!!

    Here is to friendship.