babyloss

For Better or Worse

Posted on by jwhitworth7

For Better or Worse

Most of us think about those words in relation to our spouse. When things are bad we have this idea that you stick it out and make it through together. When things are good you celebrate each other’s happiness. While my husband and I do not have the perfect relationship I feel like we do a really good job at supporting each other during the highs and the lows. Sure there are bumps in the road, times when we both mess up, but we know that no matter what we will be there for one another. I feel lucky to have this type of relationship.

I have found that since Oliver was born and died those words “for better or worse” are no longer only applicable to my husband. I tend to hold most people to those same standards. While the degree that I hold others to those standards differs based on many things I have made a decision that I only want people in my life who can handle both my good and bad and my better and worse.

I’ve said many times that I was completely shocked at who ended up being there and who ended up not being there during the hardest part of my life. I am saddened by the relationships that I have lost and for those that I know will never be the same. On the other hand I feel so lucky for all of the people Oliver has brought into my life and for those he has shown me are going to be there for better or worse and in good times and bad.

I also realize that those words could be applied in another way. Maybe I should be focusing on the idea that the words are telling me that I should accept people for who they are….for better or worse. The problem is that I cannot accept your “worse” when you weren’t there for me during my “bad.” While I wish I could do that I’m not at the point in my life where I can. The wounds are still to raw and deep. I’m not sure when they will heal. I hope they do. And in the meantime I hope that others can accept not only my “better” and “good” but also my “worse” and “bad.”

I realize that by applying these words to people in my life I am bound to get let down. Maybe I’m even setting myself up for failure. But if there is one thing I have learned over the course of the last several years it’s that I don’t just have high standards for others I have high standards for myself. I’m a hardass. I expect a lot out of people but I expect more out of myself. And so by applying these words to others I am also going to hold myself accountable to be the best wife, mom, daughter, and friend that I can be. I’m sure I’ll mess up at some point in time but my intent is to show those who have been there for me during good times and bad that I value every ounce of their support and love.

 

Up for interpretation

Posted on by jwhitworth7

“We never know how high we are till we are called to rise; and then, if we are true to plan, our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite would be a daily thing, did not ourselves the cubits warp for fear to be a king.” ~ Emily Dickenson

We don’t really know how strong we are until we are being tested. If we can hold on for long enough despite the fact that it is hard we will prove our own strength. We must keep telling ourselves we can do it and never place limits on yourself. Do not be afraid of what is to come. 

Thank you again Ms. Ayla!

Loss is a loss is a loss.

Posted on by jwhitworth7

It’s been a pretty emotional two weeks but despite the joy and heartbreak I have been able to experience thanks in more ways than one.

In the past two weeks I have learned very personal things about many of my psychology students. They write very intimate papers in my class and the one they just recently turned in was about dream analysis. I very much enjoy reading these papers because they give me a window to look through. When I peak into the window via the paper I see how many things my students go through at such a very young age and I realize yet again that life isn’t fair.

Teenage death is hard to deal with for me. It seems every year we have a death at the high school and it’s always hard. This time it was a student at the neighboring high school but she was the girlfriend of a student who I am pretty close with. Her boyfriend wrote a poem about our baby when he learned I was pregnant. He also brought me Nutter Butters because apparently they are what pregnant women want. He experienced loss this week and it hit too close to home for me. His girlfriend was rushed to the ER after suffering a heart attack in the middle of the night. They ran tests and found out she has leukemia. Soon after the diagnosis she suffered a stroke which put her into a coma where no brain activity was found for several hours. She was taken off life support and died on Thursday afternoon. He had been there with her the entire time. I spoke to him on the phone on Friday and he said that things became real when he left the hospital and it shook me to my core. I remember leaving the hospital and feeling like I had the wind knocked out of me. I was NOT supposed to be there and I envisioned the wheelchair I would be rolled out to the car in would also have a little baby in it but it didn’t.

My heart goes out to her parents who woke up that next morning and realized that their fifteen year old daughter would never be at home under the safety of their care again. And while our losses are similar because we no longer have our children I can’t even imagine the difficulty they will go through the rest of their lives without her there.

Losing our son has given me the ability to empathize with people in a way I couldn’t have done before. I am grateful for that as so many people are never able to stop and think about what others are going through. So many people are unable to think about the pain and heartache people feel or how the smile that they see on the faces of others may be disingenuous.  I feel wiser, like God has given me the ability to do what many others cannot do because they have been lucky enough to never experience the loss of their child.

I wish that all people were grateful for what they had. I wish that all people had the ability to show empathy to others. Perhaps I can help others do that……

Thankful

Posted on by jwhitworth7

I woke this morning thinking that my house should be filled with our families and our new baby boy. I should not be well rested instead I should be walking around like a zombie because my newborn needed to be nursed throughout the night. I knew if I continued to think this way today would not be a good day. Instead I decided to think of the things that I am thankful for.

My husband. He truly is an amazing man. Dedicated, hard working, caring, funny, handsome, patient. I would not be as strong of a woman as I am today without him.

My family. My parents, my siblings, my in laws, my aunts are all amazing people and I am lucky to have them in my life. 

My friends. I have found that the older you get the smaller your social circle becomes. While my friendship circle might not be as large as it once was the quality of my friends is richer than ever. Thank you to Liz who sat with me so many days after our son was born and listened. Thank you for believing in me for having hope and for remembering our son. Andrea who I miss dearly cried with me and has been so supporting throughout this difficult time. I love you ladies. 

My students. Wow. People think that teenagers are emotionally unstable but I have been amazed and how in tune they are to my feelings and emotions. The texts, emails, phone calls, visits, cards, hugs have all helped me feel strong. They have been my saving grace. Thank ALL of you, especially those I hold so close to my heart. 

My dog. Despite the fact that she is a crazy bitch sometimes my dog has been there with me through so many things….happy and sad. 

My health. I think back to the first 5-6 weeks after our son was born and remember how difficult it was for me to move around. I got a glimpse as to what it would be like if I didn’t have my health. I am more appreciate of my body and it’s abilities. 

Strong Ass Women. Danielle, Hillary, Celeste, Cristina, Caitlin, Ashley, Tracy, Rebecca… all women who have lost a child and know the emotions and feelings that I have. Women who aren’t afraid to show you that they are weak and women who aren’t afraid to show others they are strong. Thank you for the countless hours spent emailing, texting, and praying. These women are among the strongest women I know and have given me the energy and strength to back it through the day. 

My life. I heard a story about a mamma who was rushed to the hospital and delivered her newborn son at 24 weeks via emergency C-section. She died and her son died a few days later. I was heartbroken. While the worst thing that could ever happened to me did happen….I lost my son…I am thankful to be alive. I am thankful that my life was able to be saved that day.

What I am most thankful though though is my precious son. That little man has taught me so much that I would never have learned from anyone else. He’s taught me about love, life, and the meaning of it all more than any other person on this earth. And while he watches from above I hope that one day I can do the same for someone else. I am such a proud mom to a beautiful baby boy. From the bottom of my heart, thank you my love.

The Unathletic Department

Posted on by jwhitworth7

I was brought to tears in my classroom today….in the middle of class….I held it together but I didn’t want to. 

A former student who is extra special to me brought me an essay to read during my 2nd period. My kids were testing and I didn’t mind stopping in the middle of grading their exams to read the essay. She often stops and chats with me in the morning before her 1st period. She is not a morning person and I often have to pep her up for her Spanish class. She’s recently discovered our school cafe in the AM and is much happier when fueled by caffeine…..aren’t we all? Despite her grogginess in the morning she got up with me in Costa Rica and went running….. sometimes before dawn even broke. She loves anything active, enjoys philosophical debates, and is super competitive….I’d like to think of her as a mini me. I can’t begin to describe how much this student means to me. In Costa Rica we were told we’d be in a kayaking race on our tour of one of the man made lakes. We were both pumped until we learned of our racing partners who would be in the two person kayak with us. I mean after all if it’s a race then it’s a competition and we needed partners who were going to be ALL in. We decided to switch partners so we could be together because we both wanted to win. We ended up being victorious despite the fact we were racing high school football players from Iowa and former rowers. Maybe those other people didn’t want to win or maybe we cared more but regardless we did end up first place. She’s on the school swim team and on Friday’s when we play water polo we hope we’ll end up on each other’s team. One of us cannot be victorious without the other. Anyways if you can’t tell by now I absolutely love this girl. She means so much to me for so many reasons that weren’t described.

So back to my teary eyed self. She hands me a very short essay to read with no explanation or reason why. Here it is.
​The Unathletic Department​
A blue seventh place athletic ribbon hangs from my mantel. Every day, as I walk into my living room, the award mockingly congratulates me as I smile. Ironically, the blue 7th place ribbon resembles the first place ribbon in color; so, if I just cover up the tip of the seven, I may convince myself that I championed the 4th heat. But, I never dare to wipe away the memory of my 7th place swim; I need that daily reminder of my imperfection. I need that 7th place.
Two years ago, I joined the no-cut swim team. That winter, my coach unexpectedly assigned me to swim the 500 freestyle. After stressing for hours about swimming 20 laps in a competition, I mounted the blocks, took my mark, and swam. Around lap 14, I looked around at the other lanes and did not see anyone. “I must be winning!” I thought to myself. However, as I finally completed my race and lifted my arms up in victory to the eager applause of the fans, I looked up at the score board. I had finished my race in last place. In fact, I left the pool two minutes after the second to last competitor, who now stood with her friends, wearing all her clothes.
The blue for the first loser went to me.
However, as I walked back to my team, carrying the seventh place blue, listening to the splash of the new event’s swimmers, I could not help but smile. I could smile because despite my loss, life continued; the next event began. I realized that I could accept this failure, because I should not take everything in life so seriously. Why should I not laugh at the image of myself, raising my arms up in victory only to have finished last? I certainly did not challenge the school record, but that did not mean I could not enjoy the swim.
So, the blue seventh place ribbon sits there, on my mantel, for the world to see. I feel no shame in that. In fact, my memorable 20 laps mean more to me than an award because over time, the blue of the 7th place ribbon fades, and I become more colorful by embracing my imperfections and gaining resilience- but not athleticism.
​I find this essay to be so far away from who/what I am but yet it is exactly how I feel. And while the loss in the essay is not the same loss I am experiencing it parallels my life exactly. Thank you Ayla for giving this to me. 
Ayla and I on our last night in Costa Rica….downtown San Jose behind us. #badassesimage

Repercussion Weekends

Posted on by jwhitworth7

 A woman I met who lost her son 10 days after we lost ours first said that phrase and gosh is she right. I can hold it together most of the time but sometimes, like today, my emotions seem as raw as they were a few days after giving birth and losing our son.

I have met amazing women through this f’d up journey. Women who are among the strongest women in the world. Women who I rely on for strength, words of encouragement, and friendship. Someone who has felt the way I have felt, who has been so low that she thought she’d never have strength to even make it to her knees but somehow has gotten up and continues to fight.

Danielle is one of those women. I texted her this past week in a moment of “I’m losing it, I can’t breathe, I’ll never make it” and I got the sweetest response back. I truly feel like she is my kindred spirit. She sent me a message soon after losing my son and we have been connected ever since. I hope I have provided her with the same support she has provided me with. I know our sons are keeping each other company in heaven, smiling down on their mommies, and keeping us safe.

Today has flat out sucked. Like, big time sucked. The realization of my due date rapidly approaching, the realization that he is no longer safe inside of me, the realization that I will never get to hold him in my arms has hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s not fair and there is absolutely nothing I or anyone else can do about it.

So I cry. I cry for the loss of my son, I cry for what should have been, I cry for my husband and my parents, I cry for myself.

This entire journey has made it pretty clear to me what is and what is not important in life. I have had people I would not have considered myself to be close to that have been there for me and I have people that I would have called a friend or a family member who haven’t called to check on me once. It’s pretty clear who can and cannot handle my grief and I’m one of the ones who CAN. Some people have said “oh I have a card to give you” or “I wanted to give you some space.” I can’t even begin to explain how hurt that makes me feel nor will I try to put my pain into words.

Please know that just because I smile doesn’t mean I don’t hurt. As Danielle said “you don’t have to scratch very deep so see that I’m suffering.”

“I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry.” ~Sia

Robbed.

Posted on by jwhitworth7

When my alarm went off this morning I was in a deep sleep. Not dreaming but in a sleep where it took me a few minutes to realize what the noise was. I leaned out of bed to hurriedly turn the alarm on my phone off so that Walt wouldn’t wake up. I forgot it was plugged into the wall so I reached a little further and then BAM the realization that my son is gone. It hit me, the realization that my life is still scattered on the floor and I need to slowly keep picking up the pieces. This time it was not the thought “I’m not pregnant anymore” or “it’s almost November when he should be arriving” it was the “holy shit I forgot I can’t stretch my torso like this anymore!”

As soon as I got up that little thought turned into bigger and deeper thoughts and “robbed” came to mind.

I was robbed that day. Robbed of my son, robbed of the hope I would have (for the most part) an easy pregnancy, robbed of the joy of seeing my husband hold his first born, robbed of my parents seeing their first grandchild, robbed of ever hearing my first born say mommy or good morning or goodbye, robbed of the ability to labor a child (I will now have to have a scheduled C-section with subsequent pregnancies), robbed of who I once was before I had to experience the death of my child.

Robbed: to take property unlawfully. He was mine. I made him and I would have taken the best care of him but he was taken away from me. Robbed.

I will never be the same person. I can carry on with my life but I am different. There is sadness in my heart that will never go away and a weakness in my bones that will never fully heal. I am me but a new kind of me. I was robbed of my identity.

It’s hard for me to understand that there are ups and downs in this cycle. It’s hard for me to predict my emotions from one hour to the next. It’s hard for me to accept all of this. And while I can be strong sometimes I don’t want to be.

The next month is going to be really hard because I had my property unlawfully taken away from me. 

Why I Went Back

Posted on by jwhitworth7

I feel like that title makes it sound like I’m an abused girlfriend crawling back to her asshole boyfriend. I guess I can be thankful that I’m not.

Work. 

I’ve taught 4 classes this week. I decided that it would be good for me to start with teaching psychology for about a week before picking up the high school seminar course 1st period. So Monday morning I woke up at 5, went on a run, put my big girl panties on, and went to school. I had so much anxiety about looking out at a sea of faces. Faces that KNEW something had gone on. Faces that were aware I lost my son. Faces that KNOW I am vulnerable. I thought to myself “there is no way I can be in charge of 32 students for 90 minutes! I can’t even control my emotions for more than a few minutes!" 

I. Was. Wrong.

I was amazed at how quickly it all came back to me. It was really as though I never had an absence at all. I felt right at home in front of them. Thank God. 

I was humbled by the amount of former students that came to say hello and chat yesterday. I literally had 15 students in my classroom for over an hour after school! It was so nice to just see their adorable faces, reminisce about past years, and smile. I made it through the entire day without crying. Small goals Jennifer, small goals.

And then this morning it came…..the tears that is. A teacher stopped by my classroom. I have always been friendly with this teacher but have never had more than a few minute conversations with him in the workroom. He was nervous and awkward as to be expected but he wanted to let me know how many of my students cared about me and how many of them were praying for me in our FCA meetings. He said "I mean, Jennifer, they care about you a lot and more than ‘in a teacher kind of a way.’” And that’s when I lost it. My students will never know how much I care for them, how proud I am of their accomplishments, and how much they will have helped me during this difficult time. 

In the perinatal loss support group last month a woman who lost her baby 7 months ago said that she had to quit work because it was too hard. Before that meeting I thought there was a chance that would be me. I looked at her as she stated that and I thought to myself “I do not want that to be me. I DO NOT want this to define me in THAT way.” So far so good. 

I am now a new kind of exhausted. That “putting on a show” kind of exhausted. The “my feet and back hurt from standing and walking around a classroom/school” kind of tired. Not the “I cried all day kind of tired.” Not the “I looked out the window and wondered WHY” kind of tired. I know I’ll experience that exhaustion again but for now I’m welcoming all kinds of tired.

Every day I am saddened to hear about another baby loss. And every day I hope that I can be of help to people who go through this. I am going to ask that you continue to pray for us. Pray that God will allow us to parent a living child. Pray that we will never have to go through a loss like this again. Pray that we will be okay.

I am strong. I am (not) invincible. I am woman .