Grieving Dads: To The Brink and Back.

When I lost Lilly two years ago, it was by far the most traumatic experience of my entire life. Physically and emotionally. I was super lucky that my parents were in town when it happened. They were able to stay with me while I was in the hospital, which was a huge deal for me. I don't even want to think about how differently it might have turned out if they hadn't been there.

My dad took it very badly. He wasn't sure how to process what was happening with his grandbaby. And he had no idea how to deal with seeing me, his own baby, in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it.

He's actually a very sensitive guy. More so than he sometimes likes to admit. (That's most guys though, right?) He had a lot of nightmares. And guilt. And stress about not being able to do anything. All added on top of a lot of stress at work. It got to the point that he started randomly crying at work. It got worse last year when I was pregnant with Brake. And then he had a nervous breakdown after we lost him.

I flew home later in the summer because he wanted to build a memory garden for the babies. The rest of the family tries to avoid talking about them, so the garden was their only real outlet. And it was something positive for them to relate to what happened.

Bryan wasn't so easy to help. I've tried to help him find positive outlets. I've tried to get him to talk about it. I've tried just giving him space. Guys just deal with these kinds of things differently than we do.


When I first stumbled into this blog world, one of the first blogs I found was Kelly Farley at the Grieving Dad's Project. After a long struggle with the loss of his babies, Katie and Noah, Kelly started reaching out to other parents. Especially dads. When there's a new baby on the way, everyone is so excited about momma and her belly that they often over look dad. And when a baby dies, everyone is so focused on what momma is feeling and going through that they forget dad lost a baby too.

Most dads get so caught up in trying to be strong for their wife that they neglect their own need to grieve. Kelly's project makes sure that other dads know they have somewhere to turn, someone who will listen and understand, someone that won't judge them as being "too weak" or "less of a man". Finding his blog actually helped me a LOT because I could see how differently guys see and deal with grief. I could understand Bryan a lot better, even when I still couldn't do anything to reach him.

Kelly has actually taken this project a step further, and he's turned it into a book. The literary agents and publishers that he pitched the project to didn't want anything to do with it because they didn't see it as profitable enough for them. So he's been working to publish it himself. The book is in its final stages, but the cost is a little more than he can do by himself. I personally love what he's done and continues to do for the bereaved community, and I can't wait to see this book in print. I hated the grief materials we were given at the hospital. I threw the whole packet into the wall and left it scattered everywhere because I hated reading that ridiculous bullshit. I wanted to read something real. I think this is about as real as it gets, especially for dads, and I think it's gonna make a tremendous difference.


If you have a few dollars to spare, that would be awesome. Every little bit helps. Even if you can't help with funding, simply sharing his project and fundraiser would be a huge help.
 

Getting Ready.

When I worked 3rd shift all last year, I got up a little early and took my time getting ready for work. I smoothed my hair into a tight, perfect bun. I brushed on a tiny bit of make up, usually just some light eyeshadow and mascara and some Burt's Bees chapstick. I smoothed out my uniform and made sure all the stray cat and dog hairs were gone and that my boots were nice and shiny.

When I got pregnant, I felt almost crippled by the constant morning sickness. I didn't have the energy to get up a few minutes earlier. I didn't have the energy to fiddle with my hair long enough to make a perfect bun. I didn't even give makeup a passing thought. Even now, after the sickness has mostly gone away, I have resigned to just throwing on a clean uniform, brushing my teeth, and twisting my hair into some form of submission. I look like a zombie most mornings, but I don't even care.

Sunday was a gorgeous afternoon, and Bryan wanted to take me out to a picnic for lunch. For the first time in a while, I took some time on my hair. And I put on makeup for the first time in...well...I don't even know how long. It felt nice to take some time on myself. It felt nice to feel the kind of pretty that comes from a little something extra. (Or that comes from wearing something other than old football sweats and yoga pants. Either way.)

The cat likes to sit in the bathroom whenever I'm in there getting ready. (She also likes to climb in the shower, but that's a completely different story...) She was sitting on the counter, calmly and intently watching my every move. I watched her watching me, and it reminded me of all those times growing up that I sat watching my mom get ready for a big day. Sitting on the end of the bed watching her magically turn her straight hair into big curls. Watching her carefully line her eyes and brush her lashes with mascara and spritz her perfume on just the right spots.

It was mesmerizing. I wasn't even big enough to reach the stuff, much less be able to fix myself up like that. When she was almost done, she would always let one of us help her with her jewelry. It seems silly now, but something as simple as standing on the bed to fasten the clasp on her necklace was a huge deal. I couldn't wait to grow up and be able to do such amazing things as her.

I could see myself sitting on her bed with those huge eyes and that shy smile. There was so much love and admiration in those eyes. The cat was staring at me with those same huge eyes. It was almost enough to break me. It got me wondering how different life would be if things had turned out differently, if my babies had never died. Would I be watching them staring up at me instead? Would I be a good mom? Would they have that sense of amazement that I had with my parents? Would we read books and play dress up and have dance parties and watch cartoons while we eat our breakfast? The more I wondered, the more I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.


Despite the emotional morning, the rest of the day turned out pretty great. I think we need to do picnics at the beach more often.

Bryan got a couple pictures while we were walking around after eating. He teases me about how highly (and easily) amused I am by my belly button. Especially when it randomly sticks out in pictures, like this one.

We hit 23 weeks today. I'm still a nervous wreck, but we're getting there. One day at a time.


Oh, and for the record, no matter how many times I watched my mom do her makeup, I still couldn't do my own without stabbing myself in the eye until well after my senior year in high school. And even now I can't curl or flat iron my hair without burning myself.

Evelynn.

Becky over at For the Love of baby Liam lost her beautiful daughter, Evelynn, this past week.



If you have a few minutes to spare, please go leave her some kind words of support.

Please keep their family in your prayers.