I hate this

Tonight, I seem to of hit a wall and all I can think is that I hate being a bereaved parent. Nobody asked me if I wanted this, it was thrust upon me. Many think I use it to garner sympathy or use it to be a bitch or use it to hurt others. Yeah, not hardly. I don't enjoy this.

This destroyed my belief system. I believed in homebirth and midwifery. Actually, I believed in midwifery to the point that I wanted to be one. Yes, I talked to Brenda about enrolling in an online midwifery school. My life was all about promoting natural birth, homebirth, and midwives. I know I pushed many people away and drove others crazy. I saw hospital birth and knew everything wrong. I wanted women to have what I did. I still, occasionally, have to battle that birth demon. It hasn't been easy.

I have to deal with others who see my daughter's death and think it doesn't matter. It matters. I wish I could tell myself that it would of happened regardless, but, I know different. I have to look at myself every single day knowing it was my choice that led to this. I'm harder on myself than I am on Brenda.

I have to keep fighting. This makes me the bad guy. What gets me is this seems like the only time you can't fight. I'm the enemy although I don't want to be. Let me share an example- car seat techs. They see a few accidents (likely more than a few) and see the importance of various safe riding initiatives. They go on and on hoping people can hear the message. They know many aren't receptive, but continue on. They don't want to see preventable deaths. Yet, they are heralded as wonderful advocates. So, how can those who promote safer midwifery be an enemy? If a baby/toddler dies from unsafe car sea useage it's a horrible tragedy, but baby dies preventable death it's no big deal. If someone uses that child as a reason to practice this car seat recommendation, it's heroic and the child has a legacy. However, in a homebirth, it doesn't matter, the baby would of died regardless. I have yet to see anyone say an unsafe car seat child would of died regardless. No one child matters more than another and I think people tend to forget it.

I hate having Sunday's at the cemetery. I hate watching the peony buds she has knowing that as they larger, its that much closer to her birthday. I love my friends, but, I can't deny that it breaks my heart when our due date club babies start having birthdays. This shouldn't be my life. I wish I could have a do over. I want my daughter more than anything I've ever wanted in my life.

I want her to matter. I want people to care about her needless and preventable death. I want people to care about how this has been on our family. Yes, it may of happened almost 5 years ago, but SHE still matters and will until the day I die. I want good to come of this. I don't want other parents to endure this, ever, ever, ever. I want the midwifery and homebirth communities to come together, support us, and say it's not ok and do everything in their power to prevent this. Show us our babies matter. Mine is not the only one, nor is she the last. I hate that. Does the homebirth community hate it? Does the midwifery community hate it?

Almost 5 years, my ramblings

over the last several months I have been acutely aware that Mary's birthday was approaching. So many things served as a reminder of this. It almost feels like my heart has taken repeated beatings. I rarely show any sign of "I'm hurting" when it comes to her. Why, I don't know. Maybe I don't want to drag people down or maybe it's because it has been awhile or I'm too stubborn. I don't know. I've already given a few buddies a heads up about her impending birthday just in case I'm not my normal self. Everybody is supportive, which is awesome.

I actually got a wild hair up my behind and chose to create a facebook event for her birthday. I want her remembered by more than just us. I want her life to matter. Maybe, If you find a thread about CPM's/homebirth, share her story (but cap it because they generally get deleted because dead babies don't matter to them). Maybe I'll ask for kindergarten school supplies so we can donate something for a little girl this school year. I need ideas. We have 20 days (yes, I am counting the days). I better hurry up and think!

Even though it has been this long, my heart is still broken. Losing your child, it shatters it. You go about life trying to put the pieces back together hoping your heart will be healed. Like a vase, it never goes back to how it once was, ever. I still deal with triggers. I still hate Brenda. I still feel guilty every day (which is one hell of a burden to carry). I still wish I had made different choices. I would change this in a heartbeat. I don't like being a loss mom, esp not this kind! 

I have learned that I'm strong, stronger than I ever knew I could be. I've learned that I'm glad I had her. I've learned who my friends truly are. I learned about the bonds of family due to the support I've received from mine since her death. I've learned about hope. I've learned about survival. I've learned that one subject can unite people as a family such as my fellow loss mothers. I don't know what I would of done without them. I love them and would do anything in this world for them. We know eachother like nobody else does. However, we all wish this wasn't what we have in common! I've learned that self-reflection is painful, but changes us for the better if we are willing to acknowledge it.  

Dear Birth Anarchy

I recently read a post about the Human Rights in Childbirth conference and many things stood out to me. 

The whole jist of the Human Rights in Childbirth was about the perceived persecution of midwives. The post says they were persecuted for things ranging from bad outcomes to the fact that they were even practicing midwifery. If you are practicing and you KNOW, YOU KNOW, you aren't suppose to be, why are you shocked when the law steps in? There are laws in place! The bad outcomes, they're not just bad outcomes, they are dead and/or injured babies. You are blowing off babies, mothers, and families that have truly been hurt. We aren't just "bad outcomes". My daughter was here and alive. She wasn't a "bad outcome". Her life mattered. All these babies, their lives matter. All of us mothers, we matter. Our families, they matter. This wasn't a "bad outcome". Let's take that term out and just say it - these midwives were "persecuted" for the deaths and/or injuries of babies. That's pretty serious! She talks about it being an injustice when a midwife is arrested for a "bad outcome" and to that I wonder where the injustice is for the babies lost and/or harmed? 

She discusses the effects that an arrest has on midwives. These midwives go into hiding and live in fear. What about the resultant effects that a preventable loss or injury has on the families? What has been the resultant effects on myself? I certainly went into hiding and became a literal hermit. Part of me looks at myself as a victim of the movement , while the rest of me blames myself. I still have flashbacks. I have panic attacks. I question the kind of mother I am. I look at my husband and secretly wonder if he blames me too. I cannot speak of that day, but, I can type it and even that sends me into a downward spiral. When my workout partner asked me what happened to my daughter, I just told him I would send him a link, sent it, and told him not to speak of it. He hasn't. I'm no longer welcome amongst my former community because I chose to speak up. NOBODY stood by me, nobody. I was alienated. I've been harassed and attacked and mocked and shamed and publicly blamed by many within the community. That truly made the grief much, much worse. 

Anger, smothered by grief, then left to rise from the ashes is a virulent thing.

Yet, what about the parents? You rally behind midwives, yet, what about us? Do you not see how your actions towards us are harmful? Where is the concern for our families? As you hold hands with your "sisters", can you see the families left grieving in their wake? If you are worried about women, what of their mental and physical wellbeing during grief? We are more than a uterus and vagina, we are real people suffering alone and silently.