Stillbirth:  When Baby is Silently Born.

Kenna:  The Baby Who Prayed Me Home

Kenna.  Our sweet first daughter.  Born in 2007, Kenna was a petite 2 lbs, 12.9 oz.  Every inch of her was perfect, except for the silence where her heart should have been beating.   Instead, it was only mine that echoed in my ears.

We never knew why Kenna died exactly, she had a rare asymetrical cord that was neither 2 or 3 vessels (normal) causing some level of obstruction to her blood flow from my placenta, but it was unclear if this was her official cause of death.

In a strange way, Kenna’s life and death are the most responsible for who I am today as a wife, mother, author, speaker, and specifically as a Catholic.  In the months that followed her death, I entered into a deep darkness of searching for anything that might make sense in light of the faith I thought I knew.  I tried a feel-good Christian “think my way out of it” approach, spending hours listening to paid programming in the early hours of the morning when I couldn’t get off the couch.

And then I found the woman who understood my loss in a way that no one else could.  Standing at the foot of the cross, on that Good Friday, I met the Blessed Mother.

From that day,  my journey of healing truly began and eventually brought me straight to the arms of Jesus and the Catholic Church.  Kenna was the ultimate evangelist and taught me a great deal of what I know to be true today about life, love, and loss.  Without her testimony to life, I can honestly say I do not believe I would be Catholic today and I would not have written the book which has helped so many others find solace in the arms of the Blessed Mother following their loss.

If you found this page in the window between learning of your child’s death and their birth, please consider the following three things!

1.

 Take photographs and if possible, have a professional photographer come to the hospital for your delivery.  Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep offers free bereavement photography to families in this situation.  If a professional photographer is not available, ask for help from a friend to document everything.  Some of the pictures might be hard to look at depending on when your child passed, but you will not regret having them.

2.

Hold your baby and invite others to hold your baby.  Having people who know not just that you had a baby, but know your baby will help you in the months to come.  Others may not be able to love your baby in the same way that you do, but they can share in the memories and they will understand your grief better for having come alongside you.  This includes siblings and other children, even if they are too young to understand.

3.

Have a funeral.  Catholic funeral rites are available to all infants regardless of gestation, many cemetaries have special sections with discounted rates for infants.  Do something and invite others to celebrate your child’s life with you.  This will not be an easy thing to do, but it will provide you with closure.  Centering your early days of grief around your faith practices will connect you to your faith community in the time to come.

Free Resource for Healing!

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Dive into scripture as source of truth and comfort!

Whatever your experience, you are not alone.

Looking for spiritual comfort in your time of loss?

 

Blessed Is the Fruit of Thy Womb: Rosary Reflections on Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss was written for you.  It is my sometimes raw, hopefully encouraging walk through the journey of pregnancy and infant loss grief as it relates to the story of our savior- through the eyes of a mother.

 

Unleashing a passion…

 

Regardless of the time that has passed since my losses, rarely does a day pass that I do not remember the influence of these tiny souls on my faith and my family.  Through intense suffering, our family has grown closer to God and closer to each other.

We did not do this, however, by pretending that our babies did not exist or were not important.    It was only walking through the suffering and asking God to accompany us that we could rest in confident assurance of His mercy for us and for our unborn children.

That grace is not just for my and for my family, but for yours.  I tell my babies’ stories to give you courage and permission to share yours.

When I speak to parishes and groups, I am often approached by men and women long past their child bearing years who recall, with tears in their eyes, the tender life that passed on too quickly some 50 or even 60 years ago.

The stories still matter!

Your babies never stop mattering.  They matter to you because they were yours.  They matter to God because they are his and so are you.