The Things People Say

This week we are sharing some of the things that people had said to us while we were "freshly" grieving. If you want to share your experience or read the journey that others are walking, please click on the "Walking With You" button on my side bar.

Please remember that this post was written a couple of years ago, with some "touch ups." I had a lot of anger when I originally wrote this, and wanted to leave it, as is. This post is what I went through in the early stages of grief, not where I am now in my grief. I feel very different with comments that others say on a rare occasion, and if I don't think it is very nice, I simply tell them.(lol) I am able to communicate my hurt, as it arises.

There are some things that I will not mention, due to the pain that was caused from the comments. Here are two, that really bothered me.....

I do remember my first visit back to church, a few weeks after the loss of Isaiah. There were many women that came up to me and told me about how many miscarriages that they have had. This might sound really mean, but I really didn't care about how many miscarriages they had. I do look at miscarriage as a great loss. It truly is. I had a miscarriage before Isaiah, and it was absolutely heartbreaking. I remember crying for days and weeks, but with Isaiah, I certainly did not have a miscarriage. In my eyes... my circumstances were in a whole other universe of loss. My child didn't die on his own. He wasn't sick. He was healthy. He was growing perfect. He was alive! Basically, he died, so I could live. That is something that I have to wake up with every single morning, and go to bed with every single night. It was out of my hands. There was nothing that I could have done. I questioned every specialty doctor that was available. Nothing was going to change my health. It was out of my hands, and yet I am unable to take it from my hands. I still can't believe it. I had gone through so much trauma, tragedy and loss, the last thing that I wanted to hear about was a miscarriage.

I had one person tell me "but" all of the time.

The conversation would go like this:

Friend: "How are you doing Jenny?"

Me: "Not good."

Friend: " I know it's not easy, but he's in heaven, happy and whole."

This was said about two weeks after I buried Isaiah. Are you kidding me? How much time am I "given" to grieve. 48hours? She knew that it wasn't easy? How did she know that? She has all of her children alive and running around in her home, happy and whole! I was so mad at my friend for months. I wouldn't even return her calls. If your wondering, yes, I did forgive her. I told her how I felt about her having said that to me on numerous occasions, and she felt really bad. As you can see, it's a very sensitive subject. One that should not be taken lightly.

Overall, out of the whole loss in general, I am hurt at how forgotten Isaiah has become. (This does not include my friends on my blog. I truly do not know how I could have gotten through the last three years without your love and support.) It has only been three years, and men and women in history books get more talk about their lives, than my precious Isaiah. On his birthday, I really expected a lot of people to check in on me. It was his first birthday, without him here to celebrate it. The only calls I received that day were from my mom and two friends. That really hurt. This little boy that I write about so often, a little boy I call son, has changed my life so immensely. I have become a better person after becoming his mother. He has taught me how precious life truly is, and how quick it can be taken away. I have put bad behind me, and made better choices for my life. I have forgiven people that I never could have before. I seek truth. I want to leave behind the gift of love and laughter. I try to live as if it were my last day. You never know.... it truly could be.

Walking With You.... Sibling Grief

Walking With You was created to help support those who have lost a child. Together we share our stories, helpful information, scriptures, encouraging words, prayer requests, and more. This week we are talking about sibling grief/the next pregnancy. Click on the button in my sidebar, "Walking With You," to get more information.

Having to have my three children brought up to my hospital room to be told that their brother died was heart wrenching. I told them that mommy got really sick and Isaiah wasn't strong enough to "make it." I didn't know what else to say. Isaiah wasn't sick. He was a fighter through all of the problems in my pregnancy, and I refused to take that from him. The kids never knew what "sick" really accounted for. You can't explain to young children about blood clots, D.I.C., blood transfusions and almost bleeding to death. They know that I almost died, because of the comments that others would say around them. These people should have been more careful. When I do get sick, I don't want the kids to worry that something bad is going to happen to me again. So I have used this to "show" the kids how God had a big plan for Isaiah's life and that the Lord still wants me here with them so I can take care of them. That seemed to do the trick, for that fear anyway.

I would have to say that out of all three boys, my youngest son, Parker, has had the most difficult time with the loss. My friend that was taking care of the kids at the time, said that when she was driving them home from the hospital, Parker had huge tears rolling down his cheeks, repeating over and over, "why did they take my baby?" That broke my heart. I wish that I could have held him when he needed me. I wish the children didn't have to wait until they are adults to really understand what really happened. It would put a lot of closure to all of their unanswered questions. I guess that you could call it an "open/raw pain."

A couple of months after the loss, I had brought Parker home from school, and I asked him what sounded good for lunch. He didn't answer. So I kept calling for him, and a minute later, I found him laying on the floor, between the coffee table and couch. He was holding Isaiah's picture and quietly crying. His little heart ached for his brother. What could I do? I told him how much Isaiah loves him and that he is right here with us, even though we can't "see" him. I told him that he could give Isaiah a kiss on his picture. That seemed to help. He did that for quite awhile.

We will never stop speaking of Isaiah. He is as much a part of this family, as anyone else in this home. We talk about him every single day. I am very serious when I write, EVERY SINGLE DAY. On Thanksgiving, a special candle was lit and placed in the middle of the dinner table. On Christmas, he has ornaments and a blue stocking under the tree. On his birthday, my friend got him an angel bear that sings "Jesus loves me," I lit his special candle, had a poem put in the newspaper, I made a cake, we took balloons to his grave and we even put a couple of hot wheel cars on his stone. That is my little boy forever. I will never stop including him. I know all to well, the way the world looks at me when I do these things for him. I really don't care what anyone else "thinks." After they have had to walk what I have, then they are more than welcome to share their opinions. I may sound angry, but I do have to say that I get really sick and tired of hearing others opinions/concerns. It can be a real "slap in the face." I don't need advice on how to raise my boys that are alive and with me, and I surely don't need the advice on how to mother my child who has passed. I'm the one who has to live with the loss every single day.

Six months after the passing of Isaiah, my husband and I had a little one on the way. We were all thrilled! I was extremely scared that something bad was going to happen in that pregnancy. You never look at life the same way as before. I was told that the problems that occurred in my last pregnancy were a fluke. That wasn't the case. Something was not right in my uterus. We don't know what it is. The only guess, scare tissue. After two weeks, I started having problems when I was pregnant with Ezekiel. It had been the same issues that I had in my pregnancy with Isaiah. My children started to ask the question, " is this baby going to die too?" Half way through the pregnancy, the blood clots had cleared, and the bleeding had stopped. I delivered a healthy little boy in October 2009.

On some of the days following Isaiah's death, I barely got through each hour. I truly don't think that I could have said good bye to another child. God has done a miracle in my last pregnancy, and I will never stop giving Him the glory that is His.

We will continue to cling to the Lord through the great loss of our Isaiah. God is in control. After all... "He's got the whole world in His hands."

~Jenny~

The Sea of Grief

Walking With You was created to help support those who have lost a child. Together we share our stories, helpful information, scriptures, encouraging words, prayer requests, and more. This week we are talking about the early days of grief. Click on the button in my sidebar, "Walking With You," to get more information.

The Beginning Of My Journey

When I first got home from the hospital, I was so weak, I sat on my couch as soon as I walked through the door. It only took a few minutes for me to realize that I had sat in that same spot waiting for the ambulance to get to my house a few nights prior to this great loss. That was the last spot in my home that I would hold my little boy... in mommy's tummy. I lost it. How in the world was I going to go on in life?

That first night at home, my husband helped me get the boys to bed, and then he crashed out on the couch about fifteen minutes later. I remember sitting at the end of my bed looking out my window. I had to figure a way to change what happened. I started going through everything in my head, and figure out a way to save Isaiah's life. I came so close to calling my doctor at her house and letting her know how we can "change" what happened. I had only been a CRAZY WOMAN that first night. I told my mom about it the next day. I look back, and realize that I should not have been alone that first night.

After a few days of being home, I started to pack up all of my maternity clothes. I couldn't stand looking at them! I would have done it sooner, but I couldn't barely stand. Let me remind you, I almost bleed to death, and had around sixteen units of blood given to me. It was a miracle that I was still alive, and I'm at home packing a garbage bag full of clothes. That's how much I didn't want to see them.

I had to be very careful around my children for a long time. I don't know how many times a day that I would go and lock myself in my bathroom and cry. I didn't wank my boys to see me crying all of the time. There were many times that I just couldn't hold it back, and they still would see me crying. Doing the dishes, laundry, driving in the car, etc.

A lot of people would ask me how I was doing. I would just say fine. I think if I replied, " I just want to die sometimes," I probably would have had a lot more attention than I wanted. I didn't want to talk to anyone, unless they had buried a child. There were two women at the time that I knew had shared in the same loss. I felt "normal" around them. I walked with one of them at the cemetery a couple months after loosing Isaiah. It was a blessing to just walk and talk with someone that was just like me. So much changes in your life, you become a "new" person. I was able to share my feelings, without being told that Isaiah was in heaven and happy. I already knew where Isaiah was. I didn't need to have it repeated over and over again. I needed to have someone just listen, and not say anything.

To end my post on early grief, I would just say, please don't tell me your sorry that I loss my baby. If you lost a child who was of an older age, I wouldn't say, "I'm sorry that you loss your teenager." You would have loss your son/daughter. I loss my son. A little boy that would have ran around with his brother's, rode bikes, ate pizza, played baseball, needed his boo boos to be kissed, blew out birthday candles, opened Christmas presents, went to his first day of Kindergarten, and would have run up to me and wrapped his arms around my legs saying, " I love you mommy." The loss is endless.

Walking With You... Naming Our Babies

It's Monday once again, and we are walking together with hope. This week, we are sharing how we chose the names for our babies and any special meaning behind them.

~ Isaiah Christopher Ross ~

This name is so special to me. It represents love. It represents a little boy I call, son.

Isaiah: God is my salvation.

Christopher: Christ-bearer.

When my husband and I chose this name for our son, we wanted it to be from the bible. We picked this name before we found out that we were going to have a little boy. (I like to have the names picked before we find out what we are having.) Isaiah's middle name is after his daddy. So that is something special that my husband shares with his son.

It's not till after he passed, that I realized what a special name he was given. God knew what he would be called, and gave us the wisdom to do so. I had been given a certain peace, when God revealed to me, the meaning behind, Isaiah... God is my salvation. When I read that soon after his passing, I felt so much purpose for Isaiah's life. He was planned to be with us for a very short season. I include my pregnancy in that time frame. He was alive. Before I could feel him moving inside me, I could feel his spirit. I had 19.5 weeks with him. Not just the fifteen minutes I was blessed with his warm body in my arms.

God, is Isaiah's salvation. I know he is with our Lord. Worshiping and praising the One who created him. I look forward to the day, when the Lord calls my name, and I will be holding my son once again, for eternity.

I only have a few people in my life that will mention Isaiah's name. When Isaiah is talked about, it's primarily on my blog. It hurts me that people are too scared to talk about him. They are afraid that I will hurt, if his name is spoken. I hurt no matter what. I hurt when I awake in the morning, through the day, and when I stare at my clock while falling asleep. I guess it's just one of those things that people won't ever understand, unless they have "walked in your shoes."

Please mention my son's name. He is so special and loved by his family. He was here. He didn't get to jump around and play with his brother's, but he did in his mommy's belly. I didn't get to rock him to sleep while he sucked his thumb, but he did in his mommy's belly. He was my gentle spirited boy. My Isaiah Christopher.

Walking With You.... Meeting Our Babies

This week, we walk this journey together, with the birth and meeting of our child(ren). Please walk with us.... join us in this walk, if you have had to say goodbye way to soon.

(This was not an easy post to do. Very emotional. I am thankful that we are having this walk together. There is so much healing that is needed. I feel it will take a lifetime.)

~Meeting Isaiah~

After a few hours of hard labor and five minutes of pushing.... my sweet little Isaiah was placed in my arms. I couldn't believe how small he was. He was absolutely perfect, in every way. Just to weak to survive so young.

Fifteen minutes. That's all I was given. I did not waste one second. I rubbed the inside of his tiny hand with my finger. I kept telling him, " I love you Isaiah Christopher Ross." I gently swept my hand down the side of his head.

HE WAS PRECIOUS.

God had created such a miracle.

The nurse checked to see if his heart was beating about every five minutes.

We had him baptized with oil, before passing.

After his last heart beat... he was taken from me.

The doctor had to focus on how critical my health was becoming.

I couldn't push the placenta out. So I was taken to surgery immediately. I was out for an hour and a half. It was supposed to have only taken ten minutes. The placenta had also grown into my uterus, making things even worse than before. I had been given more transfusions of blood during the surgery also. My doctor said that she has never had to give anyone that much blood before! (She told me that at my six week check-up)

After surgery, I was put in ICU for the night.

The next couple of days, I had a chance to hold Isaiah and have pictures taken. I felt a certain kind of peace when he was with me. Even though he wasn't alive, I still felt complete, because he was with me. I was able to protect him. I was able to mother my child...

I will NEVER forget saying goodbye. The nurse, funeral director and myself, took Isaiah to a room in the NICU. He lied there in a baby basket, wrapped in soft blankets. I asked to be alone for a few minutes. I kissed him, told him how much I loved him, and began to walk away. Then I would turn around, and go back to the basket and do it all again. I did this about five times. The only word to describe how I felt at that moment.... torn. You don't leave your children in the store, and walk away. You don't take them to the doctor, only to drive away without them. How do you say goodbye?? FOREVER..... until heaven welcomes you.

I was checked out of the hospital shortly after saying my final goodbye. I got wheeled out, with a swollen belly and empty arms. My son got to leave in a box with a stranger.

The journey continues...

Walking With You... Waiting

We continue our journey, with the waiting. If you are unfamiliar with this journey, click on the button above.

~Waiting~

After I found out that I was going to loose my son, it's hard to describe what I was feeling. In some of my very old posts, I had put a lot of detail into these feelings. I'm going to copy and paste some of those feelings.

Here is part of an older post on January 22, 2009:

There is just a feeling of guilt that I walk around with. ( now my tears come pouring out ) I am really struggling with the fact that Isaiah had to die because they had to get the placenta out or I would die. Here we have this little boy, who is innocent and perfect, and has to come out of his mommy's warm belly and be put into the cold ground, because of a placenta that didn't implant right. I will never forget when my nurse gave me those four little pills to chew and swallow to start my labor. I cannot even begin to tell you the emotion that overtook my soul at that moment. Then they started pumping blood through two different IV lines (transfusions of blood) and another kind of medication to "help" get the dreadful "death" sentence on it's way. I apologize if I am getting to graphic, but this is what I think about on a daily basis. I am haunted by it. I just remember crying out "I don't want to do this, I don't want him to die, I love him so much!!!!!!!!!"

I remember feeling at such a loss. To basically be told, "it's either one or both of you." (That's not how my doctor spoke to me. She was the most loving and caring doctor.) As I kept questioning the whole induction, that is what everyone would keep reminding me. "One or both." It just seems so inhumane, to have a mother go through such a soul crushing trial. I didn't think that I would ever be faced with such a heartbreak as this.

During the whole induction and waiting to be told that I could push my precious son out, I never had any hate towards God. I didn't really have time to sit and be angry, but somewhere deep down inside, I knew that God was holding me, and soon after, my son for eternity..........

~Jenny~

Walking With You... another journey together...

Kelly, from Sufficient Grace Ministries, is starting the Walking With You series over again. We are beginning right from the very first walk we took together a couple of years ago. The following, is what Kelly had written from a previous post, about the loss of a child. It gets my tears flowing....


Excerpt from this post:

That walk, it’s no flower-laden path. It is a dark alley with old jagged concrete, filled with mud puddles and Do Not Enter Signs. Dark and foreboding…if we look with our human eyes. That walk is not for the faint of heart. It is the nitty gritty stuff of life and death, loss and hope, pain and healing, sorrow and joy. It is a bitter cup that one day becomes a soothing sweetness to your soul, but for a time breaks you into pieces. And, on that walk, it’s unpredictable. The rain pours. The tears flow. The mud rises. That’s what we see, at least.


I'm a little over three years in walking this journey of loss. I have healed in ways only my Creator could accomplish within me, and still carrying a load of guilt that rests upon my shoulders. Some days are harder than others. It all depends on the time of year. During the hard days, I have to grab a hold of the Lord, and rest in His arms, minute by minute. It is definitely a journey of grief and hope, wrapped all in one.

I will be sharing my old "Walking With You" posts, as Kelly takes us through another journey together. We will be walking with old friends, and making new, along the way. Please join with us, and we will make our way, yet again, through the pain, beauty and hope, we all hold onto.......

When I had written this post, I only had my three older boys at the time. Our family had been bleesed with another son the following year after loosing Isaiah. This post had been written ten and a half months after the loss:

~The Beginning Of My Journey~

With four other boys at home, I know how precious life is. My children are my everything. It's my job to take care of and protect these fragile lives.

August 3, 2008 was the start of a new journey in my life.

From seven weeks to nineteen and a half weeks of pregnancy, I had a huge blood clot that was forming in my uterus. It was over three fourths of my placenta. I knew that there was a possibility that I would loose my child, but I guess I still looked at myself in the world's view.... "it won't happen to me." You may know what I'm talking about.

It did happen to me.

On the 2nd. of August, I was rushed to the hospital at 11:00pm. The blood clot had pulled away from the placenta, causing a partial placental abruption, which started a bleed that ended up becoming lethal. Not causing death to my son..... but a fast approaching death upon me.

The next day, on the 3rd. of August, I will NEVER forget. My doctor came into my room and sat at the end of my bed. She said that I had a condition called D.I.C. She said that we needed to deliver the placenta or I would be dead within the next twenty four hours. After the delivery, I still only had a 30% chance at survival.

Wow! How will I be able to live after loosing my precious son? My son was healthy and alive. Why would God have me go through this? I couldn't answer that question yet. I had to start the dreaded death sentence. I had three little boys to go home to. At this point.... I had lost a piece of my heart. All the hopes and dreams that I had for this little one..... buried.

I held my little boy as the beats of his heart slowed down to his last. I kept telling him how much I loved him, as I held his hand in mine. God gave me fifteen minutes. I am thankful for that little time that I had been blessed with. My little Isaiah got to begin life within me and end it within my arms.

Why did God allow this? Most of that question will have to wait until I get to heaven. My life has been transformed in so many ways. I have tried to focus on living a more wholesome and fulfilling life. The life that Isaiah didn't get to live. I want to be a better person because of his life, not worse.

That is the beginning of the walk that I have traveled in the last ten and a half months. Thank you for walking with me, and may we find God's grace through this journey together.

~Jenny~