A dream

Posted by: Sarah Trost in stillbirth/pregnancy loss No Comments »

I haven’t had a dream relating to child loss in a long time. At least, I don’t remember one. But this morning I did. Someone’s child had died and there was a memorial, sort of like Snow White, ya know? A glass box in a public place. The body was lightly covered in dirt, so that you could see the form of the child, a young girl, lying there. Beautiful white flowers that never died were scattered across the dirt and a few items in the memorial revealed who this little girl was.

The father was there, as well as another grieving father missing his little girl. They were angry. They began to fist fight, there in the square. One had a firefighter’s uniform, the other wore a police uniform. They rolled up their sleeves and were at it. I thought that was a good thing, to get all that anger out on each other. As men seem to do…that physical impact that seems to do something for the soul, a release.

In the center of the square was a beautiful fountain, the kind that was ground level, that children could play in. This was also a memorial, for the other little girl who had died. I went to the fountain and kneeled down and saw blood, knowing that is where she was buried. I heard a voice, a child singing, and then saw her face, an image in the red water bubbling up. Instinctually, I kneeled and laid belly down in the fountain, my womb on top of her image. As though she was reincarnated, taking life from my womb, she was now standing next to me, alive and whole. It was amazing. And I didn’t want to give her up. She was naked, this new life who was not an infant. I rubbed my swollen belly, sorry that for some reason I didn’t get to enjoy the experience of pregnancy with her. My bare breast nourished her, though, and I was content in that.

What a weird dream. Disturbing, and yet beautiful too.

It feels like Yesterday

Posted by: Sarah Trost in stillbirth/pregnancy loss No Comments »

It feels like yesterday….when my little boy’s heart stopped beating.

It feels like yesterday….when I recieved his beautiful burial gown in the mail. I felt it ironic, that it looked so much like a christening gown. We would not be standing to
dedicate him before the church, instead he would be put in the ground, before the same congregation.

It feels like only yesterday….when my husband and I knelt on his fresh grave, alone, weeping that we didn’t have more time with him and that little time we did have was stolen. My mom, watching the children, had no idea we stopped at the cemetery, and we had to hurry. She hurried us off at the funeral, too, insisting we HAD to leave immediately following the ceremony, so we could greet our guests back at the house. You can’t hurry grief.

It feels like only yesterday….that I painfully packed away his clothes, amazed that it had already been six months since we buried him.

And, it feels like yesterday…when we went to the cemetery with 6 baby blue balloons with notes written on them, “Letters to Benjamin.” We released them into the sky, missing him on the 1 year anniversary of his leaving us.

It feels like just yesterday, and yet March 8 will be two years since his Heavenly Birthday. While it’s only October, I realize with sadness that it feels like only tomorrow, when we will be back at the cemetery with balloons, yet again.

National Pregnancy and Infant loss Rememberance Day

Posted by: Sarah Trost in stillbirth/pregnancy loss No Comments »

God loves a lullaby
In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
God loves a drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

The woman holding on for life,
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what’s been done,
The silence when the words won’t come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing,
Better than a choir singing out,singing out.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah