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Friday, January 16, 2015

A Letter to My Doctor

The following letter  was written to be read at a medical school lecture regarding how to handle the delivery of a baby who has died in the womb.  I wrote this post specifically to be shared.   If you know of someone who would benefit by reading this, please share it with them.    In writing, I thought to myself how scared a doctor dealing with this for the first time must be.   I also thought about all the doctors who do it all wrong as well as the ones who get it so right.  My personal doctor was amazing, and I am grateful for her every day that she made such a horrible and heart wrenching experience a little softer for me.   However, during my almost two years inside the loss community, I have heard horror stories of doctors that make everything a million times worse, whether through rough treatment or terrible comments.   When asked to write this, I wanted to make sure that I was the voice of my community.  I wanted upcoming doctors to know the right way to treat the Heartbroken Mother.  I hope I was able to do justice to the experience and to shed a little light onto an undeservedly taboo subject.  

Update:  The Video of this letter is completed.  You can read the blog post and watch it here.


Dear Doctor,

I know this isn't what you were expecting today. You didn't wake up and head into work thinking, "Today is the day I am going to have to tell a mother her baby has died." Your day was supposed to be full of heartbeats and moving ultrasounds, of spreading goo over a laughing belly, of getting your doppler kicked by unseen baby feet. Your day was supposed to be taking care of excited mothers. You should be congratulating not consoling.

Yet, here you are, trying with all of your might to find my baby's heartbeat. You move your doppler all around my swollen belly, but all you hear is the faint thumping of my heart, which is starting to beat faster because I'm beginning to figure out what's about to happen. The lump in your throat is almost too big to let you form the words, but you don't know what to say anyway. Who does? You're nervous and shocked, and you don't know how you're going to get both of us through this. Let me help you.

First of all, don't hesitate or stall in any way. I already have a million fears racing through my head. If you leave to go get another doctor without saying anything, I will panic. As hard as it is to get the truth out, please do it quickly. Tell me as much as you can as soon as you can, and don't leave me alone. I'm suddenly very, very scared and I need support. "I'm sorry. I can't find the heartbeat." Say it softly but clearly. Hold my hand. Look me in the eye. You'll see the fear rise, but you'll also see hope. At this point though, I still think there's hope, that you might be wrong. I think there might be more tests, more things we can check. It won't be until you take me to the ultrasound room and I see my beautiful baby oh-so-still, that it will hit me.
It will hit me hard. I will curl up and clutch my stomach. I will writhe on the table. I will scream a scream you have never heard and will never want to hear again. A scream full of more pain than you think a human soul can take. "Oh, my baby!" I'll moan. "Not my baby!" You might even see me shatter, breaking into a thousand shards of sorrow. You might not be able to keep it together either. It's okay if you cry too. Honestly, please cry with me. Please let me see you are human. Let me see that you care about my baby as much as I did...that you care about me. If you don't already know my baby's name, ask, and from then on, refer to my baby by her name. She is not a Stillbirth. She is not a Spontaneous Abortion. She is not a Fetal Demise. She is my child. Those may be terms you have been taught to use, and that's fine, but don't use them with me. Use her name. Please, use her name. 

I have been dreaming of my child's birth since seeing those two lines on the stick, maybe even before then. I have been planning it in detail for the past several months. And now, none of it is going to happen the way it should. Make sure I have time to process what is about to happen. Let me make as many choices as I can, but realize that there might be some choices I am unable to make. So much is being thrown at me at once. I am in shock and I don't know what I am supposed to do. Guide, but don't force. I will probably do anything you tell me to do.

Talk to me about making memories with my baby. As gently as you can, let me know that these next few hours or days will be all I have, and I will want to make every second count. At first, I might be uneasy because the thought of holding my lifeless child is too disturbing for me to think about. Reassure me that I will want to see her and hold her. Encourage me to have a photographer come to take pictures. Again, I will be hesitant, but tell me that those images will be my most treasured possessions later. Tell me I won't have to look at them until I'm ready, but I should get them taken for the day that I am. Give me the opportunity to bathe and dress her. Months later, after the shock wears off, I will regret not knowing what her belly button looked like or whether or not she had any birthmarks. I will regret not counting her toes or brushing her hair. If your hospital doesn't provide memory kits, let my husband know where he can run out to get some plaster to make hand and foot molds and some ink for prints.


During labor and delivery, spend as much time with me as you can. I know you have other deliveries today. Happier deliveries. But, I need you just as much as those women. I might even need you more because once I am finished delivering my baby, my time with her is almost over. Don't forget about me. I already feel so alone. Don't tell me I can "try again" or to be grateful for the children I already have. It's not comforting, it's insulting to the child I am about to deliver. Encourage me to push like you would anyone else. Remember that my husband has lost a child too. He's going to try to be strong, but on the inside, he is falling apart. Let him do the things a father would normally do. Ask him if he wants to cut the cord. Even though our outcome is very different from the other families in the maternity wing, please don't treat us differently. While there might be extenuating circumstances that won't allow for complete normalcy, let us have the most normal delivery you can.

Before she comes, prepare me for the silence. Prepare me for what she might look like. Let me know she might be discolored. Some of her skin might be torn. She's not going to look like the baby I expect, but she is still my baby. When all is said and done, I will still think she is beautiful. When she is finally born, I will cry with sorrow and emptiness, but those cries will also be filled with love. I will cry for her loss, but I will also weep for her beauty. 

When my baby is born, treat her with respect. Hold her like you would a live baby. Pass her to me like you would a live baby, gently and with tender care. Tell me how beautiful you think she is.
If your hospital has a Cuddle Cot, show me how it works and let me keep her with me for as long as I'm able. If not, assure me that I can see her whenever I'd like. Bring her to me. Let me hold her. Encourage family members to hold her and to take pictures, even the children, but allow my husband and I some alone time with her without the insanity of everyone else.
My room will be The Quiet Room. It will be a room of hushed voices and sideways glances. A room with a giant elephant taking up all the space. I want to talk about her, but no one will. Ask me about her. Ask me how I came up with her name. Ask me about my favorite part of my pregnancy. Let me talk about her. Nothing you can say will make this better. There are no words more meaningful than "I am so sorry". Tell me you're sorry for the loss of my child. Tell me it was not my fault. I won't believe you, but tell me anyway. Give me information for grief counselors and loss groups, maybe help me arrange mental health care if you can. Give me a hug. Say her name one more time. 

I will leave the hospital empty and broken. My arms will feel impossibly heavy without a baby in them. I won't know what to do with myself once I get home. Send me a card a few days later, letting me know you are thinking about me and my baby. Write her name. I will appreciate your kindness and feel like my child mattered.

At my postpartum checkups, be gentle with my body. I already feel betrayed by it. Ask me how I am. I'll tell you I'm doing fine. I'm not. Again, give me more information about counseling or loss groups. I feel isolated and alone. I need to find others like me, even if I don't know it yet. Help me do that. Again, tell me it was not my fault. Please, don't bring up religion regarding my loss unless I do first. I might not be religious, and talks of heaven or angels might hurt rather than comfort. Don't try to rationalize what happened. Just acknowledge how much I must hurt. Use her name one more time. Every time someone else says her name, it seals another crack in my heart. 

It is possible there is a clear-cut reason for my baby's death, but it's also very possible there is not.  I will have many questions, and some that you might not be able to answer.  Please, give me all the information you can.  Don't dumb it down for me, but don't use "doctor's speak" either.    I want to believe this was a one-time tragedy and that my body is not broken.  I need to know what this means for future pregnancies if I choose to have them.   Trying again might be the first thing on my mind, or it might be the last, but either way, knowing where to go from here is important to me.

Know that I am grateful for you, even if I don't say it. Know that your kind words and gentle bedside manner mean more to me than you might realize. Know that your acknowledgement of my baby as a real person who mattered is the first step in my healing process, and that how you treat me as a mother and her as my daughter will stay with me forever. 

I didn't want your day to end up like this. I didn't want my child to come home with me in an urn. No one thinks this will happen to them until it does. When I go home, you will go back to your normal routine of delivering babies with heartbeats, but you will be forever changed. You might, every once in a while, notice her face or name drifting across the white space of your brain, and I hope you do. I hope you think of her, even just one more time, because I think of her every day. I always will.

With Sincere Thanks, 
The Heartbroken Mother

This is one of many beautiful pieces of art by Louie Ejanda.   To purchase a print of this artwork or others, click here 




71 comments:

  1. This is perfect. Thank you for writing this. You will help many families be treated by professionals with love & compassion & their babies will be treated the same, including respect. You will also help families avoid some go the biggest regrets that I hold of not having enough photos taken, not bathing her, etc. you have done an amazing thing here. <3

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    1. Thank you Malory. I also didn't get to bathe my daughter. I wish we had thought of it. I always wonder what her belly button looked like. Or the backs of her knees. I'm sorry you lost your daughter as well. Love to you.

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    2. Thank you so much for writing this Rebecca. What is your baby's name? My daughter is Tirzah Catherine, almost 6 months into eternity, born at 40 weeks, and was 7 lb 4 oz... I have a short video on my blog about my journey, I'd love for you to check it out! it's under "Scars" at delightofmylife.wordpress.com (Tirzah means "she is my delight", and is from the Song of Songs)

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    3. .... I lost my baby Lilly at 33 weeks and my heart is still in such great pain. EVERY word you wrote was like you read my mind and felt my crushed heart... thank you for putting these feelings into words. I wish I can say my doctor was caring... I wish he didn't call Lilly a "fetal demise", I wish he would have told me what to expect, since this was my first time delivering a child... I wish he didn't say you can "try again" in 6-8 weeks.... I wish my arms weren't so empty and my heart wasn't crushed. All my love too all of you who had to endure such heartache.

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  2. Thank you for this. As a mother of two angels this letter means a lot. Thanks :-)

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    1. I'm so sorry for the loss of your children, Amanda. <3

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  3. Beautifully written and so powerful. As a child life specialist one of our areas of expertise is to help families grieve with the loss of a child, through preparation, memory making, empathy, support, liaison and advocating to other medical team members and family. Thank you for having the courage to share your story of so many and building a better bridge of communication and support from the medical team.

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    1. Shani, thank you for taking the time to read my post. And thank you for all you do in helping families make memories with their babies. It's such an important job!

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  4. This blog describes my EXACT experience with the loss of Chloe, and the wonderful care we received. I can't thank Dr. McNally and his staff, Dr. Lewis and his staff with USA Children's & Women's, and all of the OB nurses and ultrasound staff at South Baldwin Hospital. Without your kindness and expertise, I don't know how this situation would have gone. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. THANK YOU. My Chloe's heartbeat was gone on December 5, and I delivered her via c-section on December 6, 2014. My doctors, nurses, ultrasound techs; everyone involved were so good to me and my daughter. This letter encapsulates the wonderful care we received; I know I am not alone, even though in that moment where only my heartbeat was heard, I felt so alone because I had now gone from 2 to 1.
    My caretakers were so good to me. I have my memory box; Chloe's Angel Box. I look through it. I cry. I smile. I know I will see her again.
    #ChloeCatharine #mommylovesyou

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    1. I'm sorry for the loss of your beautiful Chloe, Laura. Your loss is so recent, too. Let me know if you need any support. I will always listen.

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  5. Rebecca - thank you for your beautifully written letter. I am an RN in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. My role (and passion) is to support families after the loss off the precious baby. Our hospital was the first hospital in Canada and the US to start using the CuddleCot. It has been very impactful in a sad and stressful time. I was wondering if you would be ok if I shared it with all of our staff? Thank you

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    1. Patti, please share this! It is why I wrote it. I want doctors and nurses to know just how important they are to us during such a difficult time. Thank you so much for taking the time to read the blog. I really appreciate it.

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    2. Thank you Rebecca - I have shared with our team and have received such heartfelt thankfullness for being able to read this. One funeral director mentioned that it was a "3 tissue read". Our babies impact so many others that we may not even be aware of.

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  6. Thank you for this beautiful letter. As a L&D nurse (and previously a high-risk antepartum nurse), I have taken care of many families coping with the loss of their child(ren). It never gets easier and I wouldn't want it to. I always strive to provide a peaceful, supportive environment for my pts. I've cried with them and helped them with their wishes. I've also had the misfortune to overhear doctors and other staff say things that were hurtful or negative. I'd like to think that it was said out of a loss of words or that they didn't realize how what they were saying sounded. I'd like to share this with my coworkers, residents and doctors....maybe it'll help change how some of them think and talk.
    Thank you

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    1. I would love for you to share it. Thank you, Cara.

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  7. Yes, this touched my heart very much as now 31 years will have gone by since Harry Alfred was delivered in Alberta, Canada. My stillbirth was the first my doctor had ever experienced and we didn't find out until after our baby was delivered. I fought to hold my baby and have always been sorry that I din't take any pictures of him as he looked so different from our other sons. He had lots of long, dark very curly hair as my other boys were bald when they were born.

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    1. Thank you for your comment, Lynnette. I am so sorry for the loss of your son, Harry. I am sure he was beautiful. <3

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  8. Phenomenal writing and wisdom, Rebecca.

    You are such a beautiful mother.
    Kenley is so loved!

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    1. Thank you so much, Devany. And thank you for helping me bring this to the "masses". I feel honored to know you and to also know Violet. <3

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  9. This is a beautiful read. Thank you so much for writing this. I can't imagine how hard it was. I wish my doctor would have been half as considerate...my nurses were great, however. My situation was a bit different. I started having back pain that got worse. When I went to get checked out, they immediately rushed me for an emergency section. I coded on the table. When I finally woke up, they had transferred my baby to another hospital not far away. He died 4 hours after birth. Placental abruption, they said. I never got to hold him, or even see him, although the other hospital took pictures of my mother and husband holding him. Even at the funeral home, all they would let me do is touch him. I can only imagine what it would be like if I had been able to hold him. His name was Nathan, and he would be 16 this year.

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    1. Amy, thank you for reading this. I am so sorry for the loss of your son, Nathan. My hope is that hospitals will train their doctors and nurses in handling such events in a more compassionate way.

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  10. This is perfectly written. As a baby loss mom, I have heard and felt many of these things. I cannot say anything more than it's pefectly on point. My heart goes out to you in your loss. We are united in both this aspect, and in that we are sharing comfort and compassion in our world for others like us, and those who we hope never have to join us. Much love.

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    1. Stacey, thank you for reading my letter. I am so sorry for your loss as well. I will check out your blog too! :)

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  11. Also re-blogged on blog.tangerineowl.org

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  12. Thank you so much for this moving and insightful essay. I have lost 2 pregnancies and have 2 amazing, wonderful kids who know all about my angel babies. I am also a very experienced midwife, having caught well over 1000 babies in my 13-year career. I have been privileged to be at the bedsides of a large handful of women whose babies grew wings. One of them happened when I was very pregnant with my 2nd child, and that incredible woman had the clarity and phenomenal generosity to offer her lost baby as my unborn baby's guardian angel. Still brings tears to my eyes, almost 10 years later. This job is 99% pure joy and 1% crushing sadness. I am grateful to you for sharing your commentary and I hope that each time this happens in my office, or when I am on call in L&D, I am able to make the impression you encourage all of us to aspire to.

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    1. Kristyn, thank you so much for reading! I am glad the letter is helpful to you. Feel free to share it with any other L&D staff you wish. I am actually working on something else related to this post that will be of help with that. I will post it on the blog when it is finished. :)

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  13. Thank you. This is so beautiful. I'm a mother from Lithuania. I'm looking for ways to help bereaved parents of stillborn babies. Do I have your permission to translate this moving letter and re-blog it?

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    1. Laima, I would be honored for you to use my letter. If you would, can you credit me and my blog? Thank you so much for your support!

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    2. Of cource I can and I will. Thank you.

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    3. That's how your letter looks like in Lithuanian:
      http://informuotaspasirinkimas.blogspot.com/2015/02/laiskas-gydytojui.html

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  14. That was word for word my experience. Thank you so much for putting in to words, the story that is often too emotional, painful, powerful for words. I pray every OBGYN reads this and heads these words. Also, that picture of the woman sitting on the ground holding her mouth and her stomach while the grief runs down her face...it is just amazing. I ball every time I look at it. It's been 4 years but that picture as well as the story being me right back to that moment just like it is happening. But the amazing thing is, as hard as it is to relive those moments, they were still moments spent with my son so to try to forget them is like trying to forget my last day WITH him.

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    1. I am so sorry for your loss. That picture is by a great artist who has recently begun to draw for the loss community. You can check out his website through the link under the picture! Isn't it so powerful?

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  15. Thank you so much for sharing this. I too lost my baby at 36 weeks. It was just this past September. He left us for reasons we still don't know after a perfect pregnancy. I would love to share this with the hospital we delivered him at. They were wonderful but this could definitely help. I have been reading your blog since I discovered it this afternoon! I appreciate your honest feelings throughout this journey. I turned to blogging as well after our loss. I am so thankful I wrote 'our story' almost immediately after it happened. I am not sure now, four months out, that I would have the memory or strength to go back there. I would love to link this post to my blog as well. I am so sorry for the loss of your sweet Kenley. I absolutely LOVE your tribute to your little girl through photos of her name from around the world. I may have to borrow that idea one day. Thank you again and stay strong!

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    1. I am so sorry for the loss of your son, Trish. I have tried very hard since the beginning to be very open and honest with my blog. I wanted people to have a glimpse into what it was like to lose a child. I actually borrowed the Kenley around the World idea from another loss mom. :)
      You are welcome to link to my blog. You are also welcome to talk to me if you ever need to. I know the beginning especially is very difficult.

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    2. Thank you Rebecca! I appreciate that. I am a teacher too! I haven't returned to work yet. Not ready to face my grade 1/2's as I left nearly nine months pregnant:( Teaching is a hard profession to return to after this. Sometimes I wish I worked a desk job:(

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    3. I know how you feel! I teach 4th. I didn't return for the rest of the school year, but going back in the fall was still really hard. I felt like I had death hanging over my head. I was really nervous about the kids' questions, but it actually wasn't as bad as I thought. Have you seen the book "Tear Soup"? It's really good for explaining grief to children. I have a Kenley's Krew facebook page if you'd like to connect with me there. I would tell you to try to find me personally, but there are a lot of Rebecca Woods out there. :)

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  16. Beautifully written. Having just gone thru this a second time. I want to share & will definitely link back to your site.

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    1. I am so sorry you have had to experience this twice. So much love to you, mama.

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  17. Rebecca, sending you deepest condolences for the loss of your precious baby. Your words speak of your intense love for your child. I too, am a L&D nurse who works with families experiencing a loss. It is true that doctors and nurses grieve and many do not know the right things to say. Please know our lives are forever changed. Sending deep appreciation for your letter and permission to share (will reference your blog). One question - what was your child's name? Hugs.

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    1. Thank you so much. You are welcome to share my letter. I am actually currently working on a video presentation of it for hospitals to share as well. I will post to the blog when I am finished. My daughter's name is Kenley Evelyn Wood. She was born still on February 25, 2013. She's almost two. <3

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  19. This post moved me to tears. Heartbreaking and beautiful in the same breath.

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  20. The part of this that resonated with me the most was encouraging mothers to spend time with their child because this is the only time they'll have together. We held my daughter for a few brief moments and I wish they had encouraged us to do more. It hurts me now that I didn't take that time with her.

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    1. Exactly! I didn't know I could bathe or dress my daughter. I didn't know I could get someone in to take pictures. The nurses took a few, but I don't have any of me holding her. I held her for about two hours. Once on the night she died and once the next morning. I didn't know I could have her more. I didn't know there were activities I could do with her. I think those events are so important to begin the healing process - and to have memories of your child when you leave the hospital. It's exactly the reason I wrote this letter.

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  21. Rebecca you are amazing to reach out and help others. Kenley is such a beautiful name! I look forward to hearing more about your video. Take care!

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  22. I wrote a long comment but it vanished. Thank you for writing this its beautiful and Kenley is a lovely name. My baby Carter passed at 27 weeks & 5 days due to my doctor not monitoring my lovenox (blood thinner) and the placenta being full of clots. The nurse who helped deliver him asked the doctor what to do with "it" and he responded with we give HIM to his mother. That was the worse day of my life, the second being losing my little Amelia Rose at 17 weeks, just 4 weeks ago. Much love to you.

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    1. Me too!!! I'm bawling over here because I lost my comment!

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    2. I'm so sorry to hear about your losses!!! I'm sending you a virtual hug!! I lost my baby girl (Samantha) Oct. 8th 2014. I miss her every day!

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    3. Thank you both....and I am so sorry for your losses as well. This is a terrible club to be in, but I have found the members to be very wonderful. Love to both of you.

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  23. Thank your for sharing this. I know it's directed towards doctors, but I think it can help friends and family too. My nephew, Hunter, passed away on July 20, 2012, 2 hours after he was born. We knew we didn't have long with him (due to a medical condition), but we spent the whole time holding him and loving him. I took 95 pictures of him and made an album for my brother and his wife. Hunter is missed by his whole family! Again, thank you for sharing this. I will share it too in hopes of helping others become understanding should this situation arise in their life. I make sure to mention Hunter to my SIL all the time. She loves talking about him. :)

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    1. This post is really for anyone who is willing to read it and take away something meaningful. I know your SIL loves to hear Hunter's name and I am sure she appreciates you taking the time to remember him and talk about him. <3

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  24. Thank you for this lesson in humanity and love. I lost my child years ago, but I still grieve the month I lost my baby. It was ignored by the hospital staff and still is by some members of my family. I have never felt so alone in my life. I hope your letter prevents a mother from having the experience that I had.

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  25. Beautifully written. This will help a lot of parents to be, doctors and other medical professionals. I'm so sorry for the loss of your daughter.

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  26. It's been 15 years ago this week that my daughter was born, and died in my arms shortly thereafter, with her daddy and brother by our side. It was an experience that had such a profound effect on our family, and from that moment on, we were changed forever. Even though it's been 15 years, your letter took me back to how I felt when we went through it. Some things you just never really get over. I wish someone had been there to tell me to do things to help make memories of our time with her. I was in such a state of grief and trauma that I couldn't think clearly enough to do things that would have meant so much later. Your letter is such an accurate depiction of what we feel and go through during the loss of a child. I commend you for putting it into words, and I pray that it will be used as a tool to help others comfort those suffering through the tragedy of infant loss. I'm very sorry for your loss. My heart hurts with you. God bless!

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  27. WoW ... That's pretty much how it went when our stillborn son was born. With the exception of him being delivered at home. I remember 2 nurses trying desperately to find the heartbeat with the Doppler. I finally told them to stop!!! It hurt so bad ... But not as bad as my heart was aching!!! The one thing I clearly remember, was that one lonely tear falling to the ground ... It seemed like I was watching it forever. But we know that it was just a few seconds. Although my husband wanted to be supportive ... He wasn't sure how and really ... I just wanted this time with my baby. So please just sit quietly in the room and let us be as one!!!

    Thank You for sharing this beautiful letter!!!
    Always Blessings ❤ Never Losses

    Margo B
    Mother of two .beautiful children and one sweet Angel!!!

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  28. Thank you so much for sharing this. I am a pediatric emergency room Nurse And also part of our hospital wide "end of life" team. For years I have been attempting to educate our staff on how to support and provide the best care to families that lose children unexpected in our busy and chaotic emergency department. I will share this with my colleagues and also our "end of life team". Hearing from families that have gone through this is the best way to educate us. This will impact my care and provide guidance and I think it will impact others. Thank you so much.

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  29. Thank you so much for this post. It is really powerful to me as someone who also experienced the loss of my daughter shortly after her birth. I am also a physician and part of my role is educating our resident physicians who train in low risk obstetrics. I plan to share this beautifully written post with them and my colleagues. Thank you for your courage to share.

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  30. In December 2014 my granddaughter's baby (my great granddaughter) was stillborn 3 days prior to the due date. This was devastating for my granddaughter and grandson. It was also devastating to myself and the rest of the family. Not only were we heart broken over the death but extremely concerned for the welfare of our grandchildren. This letter is awesome and gives a good insight into what is gone through. Thank you so much for sharing it. Sincerely, Phyllis Baynes

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  31. What are your thoughts? Can we mourn and feel gratitude simultaneously? A few days after holding and saying good-bye to their son, born lifeless at 23 weeks, my children sent little aloe vera plants to their midwife and nurse. My son told his wife that even though they mourn the loss, he is so grateful to have her alive and well. Her life was in danger. How many people enter the hospital in a life-threatening situation and return to their family within a week? He mourns his child, but he loves and treasures his wife. They believe they will reunite in a future world and they have hope in being parents in this world, God willing ...

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  32. Thank You! As a Director for Women's Services at a community hospital I will share your letter with all of my staff. I have been a nurse for over 30 years and most of that time in maternal child care. I am always looking for ways to share the experiences I have had with families like yours that will help my staff be the best they can be and provide for you and your family whatever you need to help you through this experience. I want them to be able to do the right thing, whatever that means for each family because you know that is different each time. Creating memory books/boxes with pictures, asking you what the baby's name is and using it often, and inviting other family members to hold and visit are some of the things I have always felt were very important. Thank you so much for being so brave and eloquent in your letter! You've said in one letter what I have been teaching in various healthcare settings for almost 30 years. I think it will do exactly what you intended for my staff and I can't wait to share with them. Thank you again!

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  33. And Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. We are available to capture your brief, precious, priceless moments with your beautiful baby. Some people imagine angels. We Photograph Them. www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org.

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  34. Thank you for your letter. I found it really relevant and sensitive.
    I translated it in french on my blog dealing with perinatal bereavement, I hope it will help medical staff here in France too.
    Sweet thoughts to your little girl <3
    http://chemin-de-deuil.blogspot.fr/2015/02/aider-mere-accoucher-bebe-mort-ne.html

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  35. Angel babies past, present and future will be grateful for the love and compassion that results from this letter towards their parents...thank you
    Jimmy & Andy Wakefield's Mom
    June 2011

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  41. Superbly written. This helps numerous parents to be, doctors and various medical professionals. I am just so sorry for losing your daughter.
    Website: http://reshapeready.com/

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