Why I Won't Stop Posting About My Still Born Baby

There are people out there, right now, rolling their eyes and mumbling under their breath because they see yet another post about pregnancy and infant loss, saying, "We all know what you went through! Snap out of it already!"

I've heard things. I've seen rude comments and status updates from people who wish people struggling would not post about it on social media. "Just keep it to yourselves," they say.

I am now at such a peace with myself, and what I've been through, that I just do not care that those people are out there.

They don't know what true loss feels like, and they just can't relate. They can choose to unfollow my posts. I'm not writing for them.

The truth is - my son deserves a voice. All babies who left this world early, deserve a voice. They deserve somebody here on this earth to remember them, and fight to find a reason for their death, and to help prevent similar situations in the future.

Bereaved mothers deserve a voice. Women who have lost and have not been able to speak up. Women who can't express themselves. Women who have been told it's not a public matter. We all deserve a voice.

And I deserve to express my emotions whenever and however I want. ALL bereaved parents deserve to express their loss, express their sorrow, their pain, and their love for their lost child, however they want.

When I first started posting and opening up to others about my loss, I felt weak. I felt like this sad person who just couldn't stop talking about the past.

I thought about all the women I had known for so long, who I never knew had experienced a miscarriage or still-birth, and how strong they have been to keep their composure. They don't have to post about it, or publically tell others their story and their struggles. They manage to keep it to themselves and make it through the struggle without making it a big public matter.

I thought that this was the right thing to do, the strong thing to do.  Go through a struggle quietly.  Don't bother others with your pain.

But the truth is - none of it is "right" or "wrong."  We all handle our grief however best we can.

The other day I saw a post from a mother who hadn't told her facebook friends about her loss.
She said on a support thread:

"I am posting about Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, but I feel hypocritical because I am not going to tell them I myself have experienced a loss. I am not as strong as you ladies!"

And I thought, Not as strong?

This was the first time that I thought, maybe, I might be strong.

Maybe, we might all be strong.

The mother who has lost a child and never told anyone - is strong.

The mother who has lost a child and posts anonymously about their loss - is strong.

The mother who has lost a child and shares their memory every chance she gets - is strong.

The mother who has lost a child and started a philanthropy in their name - is strong.

We've all overcome the same or a similar loss, we've just taken different journeys.

Choosing to be open about loss is a personal choice. And for me, this a chance to do good.

A chance to let other women see that it's okay to talk about pregnancy and infant loss, and share resources and a warm environment for women who need to talk, but don't how to open up or who to talk to.

You never know who needed to hear those words you shared on your timeline today. Or will see a blog post you share and send it to someone they know who is struggling.

I've found instagram to be an amazing place to reach out to other women who are struggling with a loss and have no one to turn to.

It's a chance to help people who haven't been through anything like this to understand the thought process and the feelings someone goes through, to help them understand how to be there for a loved one who has experienced it.

A chance to provide direction for someone as lost as I was after unexpectedly losing a child.

A chance to prove to the world that every struggle is a blessing.

For Braden's 1st Birthday

You were conceived on November 11, 2012. I first found out you were really here on January 1st, with the help of 5 pregnancy tests your father got me. I had my suspicions, (he did too) but the winter holidays always puts a few pounds on me, and well, I've always been moody. When you came into our lives we had no idea just how you would change things.  

On January 31th Daddy, Pookie and I saw you for the first time moving all around, "Party in the womb," as I called it. I could tell you were excited, ready to show Mommy all of your new tricks. You were very much alive, so full of life.

Every day was a new adventure, every momentous milestone celebrated from the mundane to the extraordinary. And every day passed so slow until the next time I could hear your precious heart beat and see you again.

On April 11th I finally got to see you again! You were so big! For a second I closed my eyes and you shared a secret with your daddy - we were having a little boy!

But then we discovered that something was seriously wrong, mommy couldn't hold you in much longer. You were so excited. We were all excited. My body couldn't handle the excitement. So we were taken to a bed where we could lay down and try to keep you in my tummy a little longer.

On April 12th daddy told me your secret and we officially gave you your name Braden Ray Leach, even though I had secretly known all along that's what we would call you. We missed our gender reveal party. We had to stay in bed. My body was weak. But you were strong. You were healthy. I got to hear your heartbeat every day.

Your daddy was right beside us the whole time. Your grandparents came and visited and helped take care of us, your aunts and uncles came, your cousins, friends and pastors. We had a lot of people praying for us, praying for you, praying for mommy's body to stay strong for you.

On April 15 you had reached 21 weeks. Mommy and daddy woke up really early and we got to spend time together as a family, just us 3, and Teddy the little bear your daddy got you. It was 4:00 in the morning, we wondered why we both were wide awake so early. But by 10:00 we knew. This was the day you would arrive. At 21 weeks. Your little body wasn't ready. We knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. And then, just before we were going to meet you we found you with no heartbeat. My little monkey, my little show off, he wasn't moving anymore.

I never got to hear your little cry, or look into your beautiful eyes, or felt your tiny hand grip mine. We got to see you, but you never go to see us.

And so today, for your birthday, your daddy and I are sending up a single balloon to the heavens. Something we promise to do every year for your birthday.

I love you Braden Ray Leach with all my heart. You are my son. My first born. You are in an amazing place right now, I know you know I miss you and I wish you were here, but I know that is selfish because you are in Heaven! My son never had to face the challenges and heartache of this world - a gift that's impossible to be grateful for.

Braden Ray Leach

Due date: August 18, 2013

Birth date: April 15, 2013

Time: 1:34pm

Weight: 15oz.

Height: 11.75"

A year ago today I went for a normal check up and found out something was terribly wrong. 

Like most tragedies, this is something you can't understand until you go through it. This one is especially morbid. It puts thoughts you'd never expect in a mother's head. It's like something out of a gross made up horror story. It changes a person's soul.

I found this blog post, What I Mean When I Say My Daughter Was Stillborn that I really wanted to share with everyone. She describes perfectly how I, and many others who have been through this feel.

"I don’t think that most people understand me when I say that my daughter was stillborn." she starts the post.

"Stillbirth does not just happen. It’s not clean and surgical. Instead, it is messy and active, and it opens a wound whose pain throbs on long past you wish it would. And it changes you."

Whether you know someone who has experienced this and want more understanding of how they feel, or if you have experienced this and want to know you're not alone, you should read this post.
Warning: it's a sad one.