As I’ve mentioned on this blog before, my desire to write about grief and my own personal journey was really a selfish desire. I didn’t start writing thinking that my story, my experiences or my anger would be helpful to anyone else – it was simply something I needed to do.
However, my writings on grief here at Dazed Dad have in fact turned out to be helpful for people other than myself. People at my church have come up and talked with me about certain posts. I’ve had friends who have given their friends this blog address, and I continue to get emails from complete strangers who have recently lost their own babies, some through situations very similar to ours. I now have an “Infant Loss” folder in my email, where I keep emails from these strangers who I feel so close to now.
I find myself being both overwhelmed by their grief and yet, finding it an honor that they chose to share that with me and find myself becoming a part of their journey, in some small way. Someone was looking for quotes to Jerry Sittser’s book, “A Grace Disguised,” someone else was searching for Linkin Park lyrics.
Often I receive emails from fathers who are grieving and they consistently point out the lack of resources available online or otherwise for father’s dealing with grief. Many feel the desire to care for their wives, to “stay strong” for their families, but many point out how hard that can be when they aren’t able to cry or weep or allow themselves to experience and process through their profound loss.
Part of me wishes I had studied more about grief and loss during seminary so that I could provide more knowledge on the subject here. But then I realize that’s not what people want when they are dealing with grief. That’s not what I was searching for online after we lost Micah and Judah. No, I was looking for people. I was looking for stories. I wanted to hear from other people who had gone through similar things – I wanted to know how they made it through their grief, what that looked like, how they could move forward…
I had no choice in whether or not I joined this club; this club of fathers and mothers who have lost their infant children, their babies. I had no choice. And I would give anything for the chance to get out of this club, to be holding my newborn babies right now. But I am glad that these writings here, these stories that I am sharing, are able to be shared with those who are also now part of this club. And hopefully, through our sharing, through our stories, we might find the healing we’re seeking.
Amanda Drury says
I wish I didn’t “need” this blog, but I came here tonight to look for resources for a friend. On Thursday my college roommate fell flat on her belly. She was 38 weeks pregnant, and despite the emergency c-section within 30 minutes of her fall the little baby was still born. My friend is now in critical care fighting for her life. Thank you for your openness here.
Adam says
Dammit Amanda…I wish you didn’t need that either. I’m so sorry to hear about your college roommate – the baby and now her own health. I pray that she gets the healing she needs, and will pray for the doctors and nurses caring for her.
Jason Leonard says
Adam-
Thank you for your courage and the honesty that you have displayed while processing your own grief. My own grief is quite honestly, without words. My twin brother died a little over a day after we were born. It’s a pre-verbal loss that happened almost 35 years ago. The only physical reminder I have is a headstone in a cemetery. I join you and Sarah as you walk this journey of grief together. Know that you are in my prayers.
Abigail Benjamin says
Beautiful post! I remember when we picked out the grave site for my little son in the infant section of the cemetery, I felt so mad. “This is NOT the play group that I wanted you to have!” I said to myself. But after going there for a few months, it felt good to visit. I pray a lot for the grieving parents that I’ve never met whose kids are buried next to my own.
In your own grief, please pray for Ann and Ryan. These parents have previously suffered four miscarriages in a row. Their youngest daughter, Lydia Erin died after three days in the NICU last week. Lydia was a premature birth at 29 weeks.