For Mothers and Fathers, Parent Stories, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness
“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.”
— Ernest Hemingway
I felt especially connected to the seasons the year Ethan died.
The previous spring had been filled with so much excitement and the promise of new life. As the tree in our front yard filled with green lives, hope bloomed inside of me with eager anticipation over all that was to come. My heart felt warmer than those beautiful springtime afternoons.
Summer was the season of Ethan. One day we were driving home from the beach, windows rolled down, discussing baby names, and laughing over the irony of how many girl names we both liked and how few boy names we could agree on. Days later I went into the hospital for a routine ultrasound, blissfully unaware of the tidal wave lurking over the horizon. Soon after that we were sitting across the table from the geneticist as we received the devastating news that our little baby boy would likely fight for every breath. As the temperatures continued to rise, it felt as if we had been thrown into some sort of fire. Week after week brought more appointments, more scans, and even more bad news. Weeks later, we rushed to the hospital in the middle of a warm, August night. We uttered joyous hellos and tearful goodbyes. I can vividly feel the wall of thick heat that met me as I was wheeled back outside with empty arms, as sobs shook my entire body.
My broken heart welcomed the arrival of Autumn. The trees were stripped bare, their leaves falling like tears, and I felt understood. I found comfort in the way the changing of the season seemed to reflect my own feelings. Everything that had once bloomed so vibrantly now felt so lifeless and bare. As the cool of winter set in, questions, anger and defeat swirled around me like harsh winds. I struggled to stand beneath the force of it all. Everything felt so cold and I struggled to remember what spring had felt like.
But it came. Just like clockwork, spring returned and brought life to the trees that had once looked so dry and barren. As the warm afternoons returned, my weary heart began to find comfort and Hope. I was reminded that, though a part of me would remain changed by the seasons I had faced, spring would come again. Though a piece of my heart may ache, there was still hope–there would be spring again.
Autumn is more than a season of loss and grief to me. It is a season of harvest. It was as if I were pruned through the harsh winds of grief, and entered spring changed–more compassionate, more grateful for the sweet gift I had been given. Unlike the literal seasons, we have no idea how long the harsh winters of our lives may last–but we can cling to hope that winter can pave the way to spring. Springtime would cease to exist without Autumn and Winter.
Kristin Hernandez lives in Southern California with her husband Chris and their Queensland Heeler mix, Dakota, and the newest addition to their family–a baby boy they welcomed in April. After struggling with unexplained infertility for several years, Kristin was thrilled when she became pregnant with Ethan. The celebration quickly turned to concern when doctors discovered Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain–likely indicative of a chromosome abnormality. Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent his 93-minute life in his parents’ arms. Kristin is now a mother to five babies in heaven, including four of Ethan’s younger siblings who she has never met. Despite these struggles, Kristin has resolved to embrace the life she has been given and to leave a legacy for her family. Kristin works in communications by day, but can also be found running, camping, writing or having a conversation over a cup of coffee. She writes at www.sunlightindecember.com and is the cohost of the Through the Lens Podcast.
Main photo by Artur Rutkowski on Unsplash
For Mothers and Fathers, Fundraising, Parent Stories, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, Support Resources
From the moment I first held that pregnancy test in my hand, my heart was filled with dreams for my son’s childhood–one that I hoped would be filled with love, laughter, and plenty of family traditions. I envisioned the milestones to come: his first birthday, his first day of school, his high school graduation. My dreams were shattered into a million pieces when our precious firstborn baby was born prematurely and succumbed to a fatal genetic condition at just 93-minutes old. The milestones that I once looked forward to with such joy and excitement were now anticipated with such deep sorrow. Three years later and my heart aches each time kindergarten enrollment begins, and I often find myself blinking back tears as I count down the years until Ethan’s class will start school.
The loss of a baby has a way of changing a simple date on the calendar into a point in time that feels so significant and so heavy with a wide spectrum of emotions. How can we face the due dates, the birthdays, and the milestones that now feel so bittersweet?
As we approached Ethan’s first birthday, I reached out to my friends within the loss community for ideas of ways to spend the day and received plenty of great ideas for celebrating and surviving milestones.
Throw a bash
One of my loss mama friends throws a birthday party for her son each year. Through the years, this tradition has been a great way to celebrate her son’s life with friends both new and old. Some party ideas include a butterfly release, cake and icecream, showing a slideshow, and/or selecting a theme that reminds you of your baby.
Give back
Several of my sisters-in-loss commemorate special dates each year by lending a helping hand in their baby’s honor. There are plenty of ways to do this, such as volunteering at a local charity, hosting a Random Act of Kindness day, donating memory boxes through Forever Footprints, or making a contribution to an organization that has had a positive impact in their life (at Forever Footprints, you can personalize a fundraising page with your families story to make it more personal). Here are some suggestions for ways to give back.
Take time to reflect
Whether you prefer to have a quiet day or one filled with plenty of activity, don’t forget to carve out some time for yourself. Go to the cemetery, look through photos and special mementos, take a walk, and/or listen to songs that remind you of your baby. Turn off your phone if you need to. Give yourself the freedom to feel whatever emotions you are met with–whether the day makes you smile, cry, or both.
In my experience, there is no one-size-fits all approach to celebrating and surviving milestones. Free yourself of any pressure to face the day in a particular way. In the first year after Ethan died, I felt pressure to celebrate milestones with grand gestures–I wanted to show the world just how much I loved him. Yet at the same time, I craved a day to myself. It took me some time to accept the fact that, while there is absolutely nothing wrong with grand gestures, Ethan didn’t need that from me. My love for him was undeniable and he was at perfect peace regardless of whether I threw a big party or spent the day alone. That first year, my husband and I each took the day off work, visited the cemetery, ate dinner at Del Taco (I couldn’t get enough Del Taco during my pregnancy with Ethan), and shared a small smash cake at home. We needed a quiet day together that year. However, by the time Ethan’s second birthday arrived we wanted to get out and be around lots of people. What we have needed has changed year to year, and even day to day, and it may be the same for you. Give yourself permission to celebrate each milestone in the way that is best for your family.
And remember, no matter how you choose to spend the day, your baby knows nothing but love.
Kristin Hernandez lives in Southern California with her husband Chris and their rainbow baby. After struggling with unexplained infertility for several years, Kristin was thrilled when she became pregnant with Ethan. The celebration quickly turned to concern when doctors discovered Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain–likely indicative of a chromosome abnormality. Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent his 93-minute life in his parents’ arms. Kristin is now a mother to one baby on earth and five babies in heaven, including four of Ethan’s younger siblings who she has never met. Despite these struggles, Kristin has resolved to embrace the life she has been given and to leave a legacy for her family. Kristin works in communications by day, but can also be found running, camping, writing or having a conversation over a cup of coffee. She writes at www.sunlightindecember.com and is the cohost of the Through the Lens Podcast.
Main photo by David Ananda on Unsplash
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“My friend just lost a baby and I’m at a loss of what to do or say. How can I be a support during this time?
I’m often asked this question by caring friends and family members who know someone who has recently lost their precious baby. If you’re asking yourself this same question today I want to start by saying thank you. Just the fact that you’d ask shows that you truly care.
The loss of a child is one of the deepest griefs to face and one of the most complicated to respond to. In those first few months after losing my newborn son I could hardly imagine what I needed, let alone articulate it to someone else. I’m so grateful for people like you who met us where we were at when we needed it the most. While there is no “one size fits all” approach, there were several things that my husband and I found especially helpful as we processed the loss of our newborn son.
Don’t be afraid to talk about the baby. I love it when people ask me about Ethan, or when they say his name out loud. Simply start by saying, “I’d love to hear more about [baby’s name] sometime” and be prepared to hear as much or as little as they feel comfortable sharing. Your loved one hasn’t forgotten their child, not even for a moment, and hearing or speaking their name is one of the greatest gifts a bereaved parent can receive. Consider remembering their baby’s legacy alongside them by joining them at Forever Footprints’ Walk to Remember or by sponsoring a memory box or sibling backpack in their baby’s honor. Don’t worry about “reminding” them about something upsetting–They haven’t forgotten, no matter how much time has passed.
Remember important dates and milestones. Add their baby’s birth date, due date, or other significant milestones to your calendar and check in with your friend on those days. Brief texts of “Remembering [baby’s name] with you today” can mean so much as each month and milestone passes. Even those closest to us tend to move on with their lives after those first few weeks and, while we often understand, it means so much when people remember.
Offer to help. Even better, offer specific ways you can help. While a “let me know if I can do anything” certainly shows that you care (and definitely isn’t a bad thing to say), your friend may not have the energy to identify their needs or ask for help. Feel free to offer specifics based on your unique abilities. “Can I bring you a meal on Tuesday night?” or “How about I watch the kids on Saturday?” can mean so much. Connection with other loss parents can also be helpful–offer to connect them with someone you know who has also lost a baby or refer them to a Forever Footprints Support Group.
Continue to include them. There were days when when we needed to be alone, yet others when we craved normalcy and a day with friends or family was just what we needed. While it was difficult for me to navigate crowded social gatherings or to be near young children in those first few months, it meant a lot to to be invited and to have the opportunity to accept or decline. While everything had changed, I needed to still feel like myself sometimes.
Don’t worry about finding the perfect thing to say. Accept the fact that nothing you can say will “fix” your grieving loved one’s pain–and that is okay. We know you would do anything to find those perfect words if you could. Well-meaning phrases such as “it was for the best” or “they’re in a better place” can feel hurtful or confusing, especially in those first few months. Your friend or loved one doesn’t expect you to have all of the answers. One of the most helpful things someone said to me after Ethan died was, “I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what to say.” To them it probably felt as if their words fell flat, but to me it was refreshing. Simply acknowledge their pain and sit with them for a moment. Give yourself the freedom to not do or say the “perfect” thing. Your presence and your caring heart mean more than you know.
Kristin Hernandez lives in Southern California with her husband Chris and their Queensland Heeler mix, Dakota. After struggling with unexplained infertility for several years, Kristin was thrilled when she became pregnant with Ethan. The celebration quickly turned to concern when doctors discovered Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain–likely indicative of a chromosome abnormality. Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent his 93-minute life in his parents’ arms. Kristin is now a mother to five babies in heaven, including four of Ethan’s younger siblings who she has never met. Despite these struggles, Kristin has resolved to embrace the life she has been given and to leave a legacy for her family. Kristin works in communications by day, but can also be found running, camping, writing or having a conversation over a cup of coffee. She writes at www.sunlightindecember.com and is the cohost of the Through the Lens Podcast.
*Top photo by Evan Kirby on Unsplash
For Mothers and Fathers, Parent Stories, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, Support Resources
Last year, my husband told me that he didn’t feel the need to be celebrated on Father’s Day since he didn’t have a living child. His announcement didn’t come from a place of anger or even apathy–he was simply stating a fact. He truly did not see any reason to be recognized and was okay with that. While I knew he was satisfied with this arrangement, I couldn’t help but think of just how worthy he was to be recognized for the incredible dad he is–despite how different his day-to-day life may appear when compared with other parents. Bereaved dads are top-notch fathers, often giving their all with little to no recognition from the outside world.
But we see you, dads. As partners, we see you and we celebrate you even when the world forgets.
We saw the way your heart overflowed with love and pride the first time you heard your baby’s heartbeat. We saw the way you supported us through morning sickness, discomforts, and a wide spectrum of emotions. We saw the way you faithfully stood by our side, as friends, family, doctors, nurses, and even strangers showered endless attention on the mom-to-be.
We saw the way your heart broke when that precious heartbeat stopped. We saw the way you asked the doctors questions and selfishly advocated for our needs, as our world stopped spinning and we crumbled beneath the weight of grief. We saw the way you strongly held us up when we felt so weak–and we know you were hurting just as deeply.
As friends, family, doctors and nurses continued to shower us with endless support and attention, it was you who remained our biggest cheerleader. For months, you selflessly responded as buddies and coworkers continued to ask “How’s your wife?” Though you were equally affected, even if in different ways, you never made it about you.
We see the way you protect and provide for us each day. We see the way you move through your day, often unrecognized as the incredible partner and father that you are. There are few men more admirable nor more selfless than you. While you may not crave the recognition, we cannot imagine anyone else more deserving than you. To all of the bereaved dads parenting babies they can no longer hold, we celebrate you not just today but every day. Happy Father’s Day–we appreciate you more than words can say.
Forever Footprints invites you to attend the annual OC Golf to Remember Tournament, July 12, 2018 at 11am at Oak Creek Golf Course in Irvine. To register or receive more information visit https://foreverfootprints.org/remembrance/events/oc-golf-to-remember/.
Kristin Hernandez lives in Southern California with her husband Chris and their Queensland Heeler mix, Dakota. After struggling with unexplained infertility for several years, Kristin was thrilled when she became pregnant with Ethan. The celebration quickly turned to concern when doctors discovered Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain–likely indicative of a chromosome abnormality. Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent his 93-minute life in his parents’ arms. Kristin is now a mother to five babies in heaven, including four of Ethan’s younger siblings who she has never met. Despite these struggles, Kristin has resolved to embrace the life she has been given and to leave a legacy for her family. Kristin works in communications by day, but can also be found running, camping, writing or having a conversation over a cup of coffee. She writes at www.sunlightindecember.com and is the cohost of the Through the Lens Podcast.
*Header photo by Benedicto de Jesus on Unsplash
For Mothers and Fathers, Parent Stories, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness
Mother’s Day changes when you’ve lost a baby. A day that was once filled with so much celebration and hope has been shadowed with grief, pain, and perhaps feelings of isolation. It’s not that you dislike the holiday or all that it signifies–it’s simply that someone very special is missing and motherhood has suddenly taken on a whole new meaning.
Brave mama, please hear me when I say this. Though it may not always seem true, this is your day too. Whether the sentimental greeting cards and commercials featuring smiling women and cooing babies fill your heart with hope, despair, or a combination of both, this day is for you.
To the mamas who have said goodbye to a baby of any age or gestation: You are an incredible mother. You have been handed the sacred and immensely extraordinary task of mothering a child you can no longer hold. You are among the those who have been chosen to experience a love stronger than death. You have the privilege of having known someone so small, yet so important. You keep moving forward day by day, all the while keeping your baby’s memory and legacy alive. Even when no one says your baby’s name, this is your day too.
To the mamas whose arms feel empty: you matter. While the world may not see your motherhood, I do. I see the way motherhood has seeped into every corner of your heart and mind. While your home or the backseat of your vehicle may not show any evidence of children, I see the ways your baby has changed every part of your daily life and has made you into a beautiful mother. You matter and this is your day too.
To the mamas who hold children in their arms, all while feeling the absence of the baby they lost: you are doing an amazing job. While you may feel inadequate, you are a shining example of love and strength to your living children. Your love for them does not diminish the love for the baby you lost, nor does your grief for the baby you lost diminish the joy you have over those in your arms. You are brave and this is your day too.
Rather than seeing Mother’s Day merely as a day of despair, I hope you and I will be able to celebrate our title of bereaved mothers (even if there are plenty of tears–crying is still brave). This year, let’s link arms and take time to honor the women who have had a positive, nurturing influence–our own amazing mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and mentors. And may we stand in amazement when we recognize that we, too, stand among that influential bunch.
This is your day too.
Brave Mamas–as we approach Mother’s Day, Forever Footprints would like to honor you at the annual Nurture to Remember event, Tuesday, May 8. Come join other loss moms for a day of connection and healing. For more information or to register, visit https://foreverfootprints.org/remembrance/events/oc-nurture-to-remember/.
Kristin Hernandez lives in Southern California with her husband Chris and their Queensland Heeler mix, Dakota. After struggling with unexplained infertility for several years, Kristin was thrilled when she became pregnant with Ethan. The celebration quickly turned to concern when doctors discovered Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain–likely indicative of a chromosome abnormality. Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent his 93-minute life in his parents’ arms. Kristin is now a mother to five babies in heaven, including four of Ethan’s younger siblings who she has never met. Despite these struggles, Kristin has resolved to embrace the life she has been given and to leave a legacy for her family. Kristin works in communications by day, but can also be found running, camping, writing or having a conversation over a cup of coffee. She writes at www.sunlightindecember.com and is the cohost of the Through the Lens Podcast.
Top photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash,
Kristin Hernandez lives in Southern California with her husband Chris and their Queensland Heeler mix, Dakota, and the newest addition to their family–a baby boy they welcomed in April. After struggling with unexplained infertility for several years, Kristin was thrilled when she became pregnant with Ethan. The celebration quickly turned to concern when doctors discovered Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain–likely indicative of a chromosome abnormality. Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent his 93-minute life in his parents’ arms. Kristin is now a mother to five babies in heaven, including four of Ethan’s younger siblings who she has never met. Despite these struggles, Kristin has resolved to embrace the life she has been given and to leave a legacy for her family. Kristin works in communications by day, but can also be found running, camping, writing or having a conversation over a cup of coffee. She writes at www.sunlightindecember.com and is the cohost of the Through the Lens Podcast.