# The Silver Lining?



## PiscesMama24 (Jul 2, 2007)

I can't tell you how many times I've heard that there _has_ to be a silver lining, or something positive that will reveal itself about Zejah's death. Right now I can't imagine what.

Has anyone who has experienced the loss of a baby (miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, etc) eventually discovered something positive to come from their experience?

I know it's only been two weeks and it could take a long time to fully understand this loss, but I want to know that something more is out there, that there is hope of a silver lining underneath all this despair.


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## someonenamedleah (Jul 23, 2009)

(((Mama))). I am not a person who believes in "meant to be's" or "happens for a reasons" but a lot of those around me, dh included, do. I think many people see the loss of our Stephen (and the m/c before that) as... not necessarily a GOOD thing, but something that HAD to happen, to lead us to our twins...the babies we were "meant" to have.

I said before on another thread that I don't want my son's existence reduced to a stepping stone on the path to something else, but the truth is that if Stephen hadn't died, I wouldn't be holding these two sweet boys right now.

So, I guess what I think, for me the silver lining is knowing that life does go on, even after the worst imaginable has happened. And that my life is still a happy, good life. Even though my life now is a million miles away from what I had pictured it to be like just one short year ago.


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## mischievium (Feb 9, 2003)

Wow. That is a really hard question to answer. People come into this kind of loss with all sorts of different emotional, religious, and cultural beliefs and understandings of the world and many can and do find some sort of positive side to their loss and many don't.

As someone who is agnostic, at best, the sticking point that I get to with any kind of silver lining to this experience is that it wasn't worth the loss of my child. Does that make any sense? I mean, I think some maybe positive sides to this kind of loss is that it can give you a greater appreciation of how precious and fleeting life really is or it can help you connect to the great women that surround you who have been through the same sort of loss and help you feel less alone, but I would gladly give all of that up to have my son back. I can't think of any silver lining that doesn't pale in comparison to my loss. There is no profound insight about myself or the world or any work I could do in the future thanks to my insight about what it's like to lose a baby that I wouldn't trade in a millisecond to have Soren back.

Assuming that this pregnancy continues to go well and I walk away with a living baby, I will be faced with a new little person who questionably wouldn't be here if Soren lived. (I say "questionably" because I don't pretend to have any answers about what makes a specific person that specific person-- a soul? a specific combination of one particular egg and one particular sperm? the time and place they are born and their individual experience as they grow up?) I mean, we planned to have more than one child, but I would not have intentionally become pregnant 5 months after Soren's birth had he survived. So, there will be this new little baby boy who's face I will look into and love and yet know that without the tragic loss of my first child, this new child may not be here. Is this new person that silver lining? Someone I would not have experienced without losing Soren? Is this the thing that I wouldn't give up in order to have Soren alive and well?

For me, I just can't allow myself to dwell in hindsight and in an alternate universe where I have choices that I don't actually have. I don't get the option of choosing between children-- and if I did, I couldn't choose, what mother could? So, while I may love this new little person and be so grateful for his existence, I cannot see his life as the silver lining to my other son's death. And that is both for me and my sanity, as well as the new baby's. I don't EVER want him to feel like he is expected to be the replacement for his brother or like he is expected to make it all better. That's not his job.

I guess what I'm saying is, for me, sure there are things that make this experience less awful. The outpouring of love and support from my friends and family when we lost Soren. The knowing all the wonderful women here. The insight that allows me to maybe be there for another woman who goes through a similar loss. There are "positives," but nothing will ever make his loss less than what it was-- which isn't the same as saying that daily living doesn't slowly get easier. I imagine going through a loss like this as a being awash in a big cup of concentrated awful and everyday someone adds one drop of water. Each day gets almost imperceptibly more okay and less awful than the day before it. It's a subtle change that I didn't often notice until days or weeks had passed. What makes things get better, and even what qualifies as better, is going to be different for each of us.








Your loss is still SO very new and raw and intense right now. I hope that you do find whatever peace can be found when coping with a loss as profound as this. Until then, we're here to listen.


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## expatmommy (Nov 7, 2006)

I come from a Judeo-Christian perspective & yet feel very much the same way as mischevium. Whatever the potential silver lining, it wasn't worth the loss of my child. I don't believe that this is the way things were meant to be & that there is some divine purpose in it.

Sure, after loosing my son, I've become a different and possibly better person. I'm more compassionate. I try to be a better mom. I try to be kinder to those in need. But was it worth the loss of my child? No.

I don't see it in terms of silver linings. There is no silver lining. The loss has resulted in changes for me and my family, both good and bad but they are in no way a reason for why it happened.


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## calmom (Aug 11, 2002)

it's tough for me to admit that positive things have come from losing my Matthew. i feel like that would be conceding and agreeing with people who think that he was *meant* to die, and i don't agree with that. but anyway, i do know what you're asking so i'll try not to get all caught up in semantics.

dh and i are MUCH closer. we clear up miscommunications quickly, and just bypass most of the arguing, doing little things to hurt each other. i don't feel like we are on opposite sides anymore, like i want to win in an argument; i don't feel that urge to be right anymore. that didn't come easy. we went through several other unpleasant phases before arriving here.

my irl friends! boy, do i know who they are now. for the most part, they were amazing and loving. a couple even came to the hospital and held Matthew, told me how beautiful he was and sat and talked with me as though i were completely normal.

online friends: i never knew it was possible to have a real, genuine friend that you have never met. it's hard to really know people online but when you lose a baby, there's no facade left. what's left is all raw, no energy for faking it. you can become friends on a very deep, deep level. i LOVE the ladies i have met on this board and from blogging, LOVE them!

i am much more grateful for what i do have. even though i'm still terribly heartbroken, i can really focus on who and what is important to me. i just don't do things that i don't want to do anymore. i don't care what other people think is important or what i should be doing. that is freeing, in and of itself. i know how precious life is and i just don't want to waste it.

i can never say that Matthew's death was worth all of these things. but you know that. nothing can make this pain worth it.

sending you lots of hug and loves, mama.


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## WaitingForKiddos (Nov 30, 2006)

Such a hard question.....

I thought for a few hours about it. Initially I thought that I'd post that there is a silver lining somehow. That dh and I are closer, that I've grown as a person, that I have some inner meaning to life figured out. But, in reality, no. There is no silver lining. While dh and I ended up closer there was also the period of time that I wondered if our marriage could handle the loss. We fought like crazy, I pretended I was better when I was perhaps getting worse. I see that it could have gone either way if at any moment the other person would have called uncle and given up on wanting the life we had pictured. Ya, we're closer now but it took a hell of a lot of trying. It's like thinking the hiker that got mauled by the bear is in some better place as a person because he lived through the attack. The new person is fine and dandy but the scars that remain are ugly and any good new stuff comes with the type of darkness that is unimaginable to most people. Choosing to be alive didn't make me better. Just not dead.

I think about this new little guy inside me. He wouldnt exist without us having sacraficed his sister's life, which he didn't do literally but it sure feels like maybe we could have done something different for her some days. Survivor guilt. So this baby boy is safe, so far. Should he remain fine and end up being born alive and remain alive what am I to tell him? Will he
think that he's our silver lining or are we humans too selfish to think that way? Will he think he was a replacment? No way to tell.

Our friends. In real life our friends seemed to have no idea what to do. A handful were brave and acted good. Some didn't. Loosing friends is crappy. I'm sure our friends feel like it was crappy too. I found friends here that are closer to me than my real life friends. It's their support that got me through the nights I would wake up at Amelia's birth time and be freaking out. It's them that made me see I was worth more than reducing myself to the pill popping wreck I had become. However there's no silver lining in our friendships. We are friends because we have dead babies. Because we felt/feel crazy as we felt our little ones still inside us when they were really in ashes. Because when we have a day where we don't get out of bed until we know our Dh will be home soon and we need to get up to pretend to be better so Dh will stop looking at us 'that way' or so he'll have sex with us because we need to be pregnant again. Or so we can feel normal for a few minutes of a day. We are friends here because we are in the darkest place together there's no choice. No one but the woman here know I have my dead daughter's breast milk in my freezer. No one gets it. That anyone understands this type of loss ist a silver lining.

Maybe I'm bitter tonight. I have no right to be. I have ZERO right to be. I've come so far. I have a little baby in me. I have a dh who looks at me like he did before the loss. But again....The Loss. The loss of so much more than a pregnancy. I can't say my choice to remain alive is a silver lining. It just is. It's benign.

And haven written all that I could just as easily flip my opinion. Im not looking for meaning in the loss anymore. I've tried that and it made me crazy so I gave up.








this is the worse time of your life. This is the dark of the dark. It does get better. I can promise that.


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## Vermillion (Mar 12, 2005)

Quote:


Originally Posted by *PiscesMama24* 
Has anyone who has experienced the loss of a baby (miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, etc) eventually discovered something positive to come from their experience?


Yes, absolutely. but it took a while. And it also took me falling to the lowest point of my life, and then pulling myself back up, falling again, repeat process&#8230; to get where I'm at now, which I consider to be well on my way to a better place than I've been at ever.

I'm more optimistic. How the hell can that be? Because I'm tired of being negative, which I was for most of my life&#8230; I still have bitter moments, but for the most part I am forcing myself to look towards the positive. I don't want to miss the good stuff because I'm dwelling on the bad. And when I'm feeling low again, I just fake it 'till I make it









Losing my daughter almost killed me. It almost destroyed my marriage because I shut my husband out. I had so much anger and hatred and I dwelled in it for a long time. I finally came to the point where I refused to let her death destroy my life any longer! I did not want her short existence to be the cause of so much negativity and destruction, so I just did a complete overhaul of the whole situation and I now see it as an opportunity to better my life. She left this gift behind for me, buried beneath all of the pain&#8230; I won't let it go to waste. Losses to lessons, that's her legacy. That's where I'm at.

Quote:

online friends: i never knew it was possible to have a real, genuine friend that you have never met. it's hard to really know people online but when you lose a baby, there's no facade left. what's left is all raw, no energy for faking it. you can become friends on a very deep, deep level. i LOVE the ladies i have met on this board and from blogging, LOVE them!
Huge yes to this! I'll be honest, I've never gotten along well with women. I much preferred the company of guys when it came to friendship&#8230; But&#8230; I've met some incredible women through here and I am SO grateful to be able to "know" them. I feel so connected to them on a deep level and I've found that to be very healing in many areas of my life. They helped carry me through the worst time in my life! I love them for that! I'm very thankful for these women!


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## Cheshire (Dec 14, 2004)

I'm a year and a half out from my son's death. As others have posted there are lots of positive things that I can see looking at it now.

There is also a hole in my spirit - the part that went with him, that will never be filled. I have a daughter now and I hate it when people act like because she's here all is better or that her brother had to die for her to be here.

DH and I only planned on two kids and if our son had lived we probably would have not had any more. But, I don't know that for sure and I don't know that I wouldn't have had an oops pregnancy and it would have been my daughter. I couldn't choose between my kids as Mischievium said.

My grandparents lost their first child, a son, after he was born. My grandmother was so ill after the birth, passed out kind of ill, that my grandfather held him as he passed and then had to make all of the arrangements and attend the funeral without her. She never even saw her son and they didn't have cameras back then. They were married for 64 years and they always missed their son. I wish I had talked to them about their loss more before they died. I never imagined I'd be in the same shoes. I don't know if they had any profound insights or silver linings associated with his death.

So far, there are things that help ease the pain - knowing that I can offer comfort to others who lose children (I've had two close friends lose grown children this year). I know that my IRL friends who lost a son before our loss offered some of the best comfort for us just because they knew what it felt like. They made us laugh about all of the awful things that people say trying to offer condolences. It was nice knowing we weren't alone and I hope I can offer that to others.

But, when our friends told us we'd do the same for others in the early days of our loss I didn't want to hear it. It was too painful and I didn't want to wear these shoes - who wants to be able to offer that kind of comfort. But, as I've gotten used to the idea that our son is really gone it's come - I've been figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way but here I am and I feel good being able to comfort another hurting soul.

I know I was in shock for months after our son died. There are still days when it feels like that early nightmare. There are still days when I just want to rip off my skin and run away, just to get away from the pain if I could only brush it off.

This is a rough journey and I'm so sorry you have to be on it. When people IRL tell you there is a silver lining tell them they don't have to fix it for you with platitudes (is that the right word??). Ask them to not talk about Zejah's death so lightly - would someone say the same thing if your mom had died? People don't know what to say so many times they say all the wrong things. It's okay, if you feel up to it, to tell them to stuff it.

Your question is a great one and I'm really glad to read everyone's responses.

Hugs and know you're in our prayers.


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## Thalia (Apr 9, 2003)

I've had two early losses (8.5 weeks). While I there are definitely positive things that have happened as a result of these losses, they certainly don't measure up to the sadness and loss or in any way make up for it. I'm grateful for the things I've gained, but it doesn't make up for the loss.

I have experience other kinds of losses in my life (not pregnancy-related) where later on I was able to see that they way things turned out was MUCH better than I could have ever believed. Just not with infant loss.


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## namaste_mom (Oct 21, 2005)

I'm with the ladies that say no "good thing" that came out of this is worth the loss of a child. There is no place better than in a mother's arms.

The ONLY thing that gives me some measure of comfort is that I feel like the conception and growth of Norah within me was a journey that Norah had to take. As a Mom, I love her, everything about her and completely. She knew absolutely only love in me. Something about her journey brought her to me and somehow (I will never understand) I helped her in the journey. The journey or whatever you want to call it gave her something she had to learn. She chose me to be the vessel. I gave her what I could.

Thus, "good" is not about me and my life but her and her life.

And I support the notion that these ladies are wonder and a great source of support.


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## cappuccinosmom (Dec 28, 2003)

Tough question.

I can relate certain good things to my losses. I _don't_ think my babies died to make those good things come about. I do believe God graciously redeemed some of the pain. The losses weren't any less painful, no less sad, no less heartbreaking.

The biggest one this time around was the circumstances I was in when I found out we'd lost another baby. There's never a "good" time to have a miscarriage, but this was as close as it could get. Although it was hard with dh being out of the country, the truth is that as much as he loves me, he really doesn't "get" grieving over this kind of loss. Once he's sure I'm physically OK, the whole thing is done for him. This time, my boys and I were settled into my parents home, surrounded by people who knew how to help me emotionally. Dh would have done his best to help me with the boys, but he has to work. So it was also nice to have my parents and siblings all willing and able to take a turn with my living children while I was suffering through all the physical effects of a molar pregnancy and then a d&c.

I think, too, this one actually hit dh harder than the last one, especially since he wasn't here to offer even his little bit of comfort or reassurance.

And as for me, there was some growth, too. I have gotten a little closer to being at peace with life. To not be constantly looking for the next thing, but to enjoy what I have right now. Especially in regards to my living children. I've spent a lot of time agonizing over not having a new baby in my arms, but I have three little boys, and I know now that I need to spend that time better--mothering them and enjoying the fact that I have three beautiful, amazing kids.


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## PiscesMama24 (Jul 2, 2007)

Hi Mamas,

Thank you so much for your support. I realize this is all so fresh and new, and I'm grappling every day with so many questions...Why? Why us? What ifs....? How will I ever get through this? Why didn't I....? or Why did I...? I'm just feeling so lost, but fortunately and unfortunately, not alone. I would never ever wish this kind of pain on anybody...I have started to appreciate the good things in my life tremendously. And I still think that I'm in shock. I'm disorganized...I start talking and forget what I'm saying, I try to do simple things like pay the bills or fill out an application and it ends up taking me days and days.

This is such a rambling right now....I don't even know what to say really. I just thank you for your support and giving me the courage to try to work through and process some of these feelings.

I just want to know that there is hope for all of us. For the future. Today has been one of the harder days and I can't stop crying. Not that I need to, but yesterday and the day before I almost felt a bit better, guiltily so. And now I feel back to square one. So much for making progress huh.


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## kalamos23 (Apr 11, 2008)

*hugs* My brother was born sleeping almost 14 years ago. I know it's not quite the same, as I wasn't his mother, but after losing my own babies and seeing it from that perspective, I can say while it does get easier, I don't know if there is a silver lining per se. I think good came out of a really painful and bad experience eventually. You exist until you can cope, and then some days you totally forget and then remember and it hits you like a ton of bricks again. After a while, you realize you are making progress forward, and things start feeling more normal, but it's a new normal, not the old normal. You never ever forget, but you learn to cope and hope that maybe your story can help others.

I am so so sorry your beautiful daughter passed away.


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## JayJay (Aug 1, 2008)

Well. Okay for a start I have to say that telling someone something as cliche as a "silver lining" is kinda *blah* in my book. But people do and continue to tell grieving parents about angels and silver linings and sunshine after rainy days and "meeting up in the next life" and "you can have another" and...and... But the life changing _positive_ things that can happen from the death of a child, real as they may be, cannot be summed up in a single cliched sentence. Rather, let me tell you about me and see what kind of conclusions can be drawn...









Before I lost Josie, I'd climbed fairly high in the corporate chain. I had managed, at the age of 25, to become the district manager for a large chain. My territory was the state of Minnesota. I had a company Malibu and, when that got crushed by a tree, a Dodge Magnum to drive. I made a pretty decent salary. We were quite well-off financially.

But, the job was extremely stressful and I was basically NEVER at home and when I was, was constantly bombarded with telephone calls. There were insane situations, not enough funding, too few staff and no power to hire more; theft, police intervention with the theft and 2-3am calls for burglar alarms going off in distant places, to which I would have to respond; inventories - basically every member of staff was stretched beyond their maximum capacity.

I would be driving along and my blood pressure would go through the roof with a single phone call. I'd get stress/blood pressure related headaches driving from one location to the next. So for 13 hours a day at least, my blood pressure would be crazy. Then I'd get home, crash out and the blood pressure would go back to normal. There was no help for the longest time at work and when help finally arrived I was in my very last week before maternity leave and the help arrived with a kicker: a warning from my boss - basically a reprimand. Nice.

So I left on maternity leave...but it was too late: months of insanity had taken their toll and the blood pressure issues caused my feet and hands to swell up. Blood pressure was fine then though, and no sugar or protein in my urine, so we had no idea anything was wrong. But it was... Two weeks to the day after I left on leave, I went into labor, my placenta detached completely resulting in the death of Josie and almost me as well...

Now, I took the whole of the FMLA leave. In January I returend and after all of that, the company wanted me to return in my previous role: I refused. Instead I took a managerial position further down the chain of command. I started on the 10th January and within a few days, was feeling strained. I couldn't in all good consciousness work for the company any more... Four months and many, many tears and depressed days later I handed in my notice after finding out two days previously that I was pregnant. I finally quit on my birthday, the 15th of May 2009.

From then onward I changed my life: I was freelance - self employed therefore; I had very little money compared to what I'd had before, BUT I was no longer facing a 45 minute commute (even to my manager's job) either way (and in the DM job it often took 2-3 hours to get to the location for work) and wasn't going to work for a company I could no longer stand. I was able to take the kids to and from school; be around for them; be a proper mother - cook meals, clean the house, make it nice for the family...

I also was able to start volunteering my time in photo retouching, first privately (for free, for the families of lost babies) and then through NILMDTS. I started my graphic design career, my writing career and we took off to England for three weeks in June and July of last year.

Now, I'm a work-at-home mom. The house is a home; my baby is taken care of and happy; I am healthy (I never had the blood pressure or swelling with Bella's pregnancy - not even slightly in the feet); whole; had a successful pregnancy with a full term, thriving infant; have clients from England and Europe, throughout the US and in Australia and while money is often too tight to mention, I can say this with certainty:

Since losing Josie, I have been living a more morally sound life. I stick my head on the copping block every time, nowadays, for issues I feel are wrong. I won't tolerate unkindness any more. I don't turn a blind eye to the perils of one if most people are happy. I disagree with many of the tactics of corporate America (in regard to the way many companies treat their employees) and choose not to be a part of that as an employee. I stand up for myself, my children, my family and my friends and feel I've become a more humanly responsible individual.

In short, losing my daughter has made me a better person. A more honest person. Just a nicer person. It's unfolded over a fairly long period of time, but if you want to cover that with a cliche, I suppose it would be a "silver lining." Good thing I don't use cliches though, because that one doesn't go very far toward describing the massive and positive (not discounting the sadness of course, but we are concentrating here on the positive) life changes this tragic event has precipitated.









XxXxX


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## JayJay (Aug 1, 2008)

Quote:


Originally Posted by *kalamos23* 
*hugs* My brother was born sleeping almost 14 years ago. I know it's not quite the same, as I wasn't his mother, but after losing my own babies and seeing it from that perspective, I can say while it does get easier, I don't know if there is a silver lining per se. I think good came out of a really painful and bad experience eventually. You exist until you can cope, and then some days you totally forget and then remember and it hits you like a ton of bricks again. After a while, you realize you are making progress forward, and things start feeling more normal, but it's a new normal, not the old normal. You never ever forget, but you learn to cope and hope that maybe your story can help others.

I am so so sorry your beautiful daughter passed away.

It's not that dissimilar really hun: I too lost my brother and the pain is deep. He was born at 35 weeks in '86 (I used to say 34 but the other day my mother corrected me) and died from a complete placental abruption: same as Josie. I worried about that the whole pregnancy with Josie - and then it actually happened. But, it was not genetic - it was simply very bad coincidence...

XxX


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## philomom (Sep 12, 2004)

No, no silver linings. I'd gladly trade any wisdom I may have gained to have my lost babies back.


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## Fireflyforever (May 28, 2008)

I held my baby girl in my arms and said to my husband, "something good has to come out of this." I was in shock, babbling really. But it wasn't really the idea I would learn something. It was a response to her - she had almond eyes and chubby cheeks, perfect cupid bow lips and a dusting of reddish brown hair. I simply couldn't believe that seven pounds and four ounces of beauty and sheer baby gorgeousness could exist for nothing.

Now, I think her existence is enough. The good thing that came out of it was simply Emma herself. Because if the choice was having her, but not keeping her, compared to never having known her at all I take this choice. The one where I had her in my arms so briefly but in my life forever. My love for her - although it hurts like h*ll - is the good.

Anything else that I may have "learned" or "gained" from this experience is, as everyone else has said, absolutely not worth the cost. I could have learned to be a more compassionate person, a better wife, a better mother without having to bury a child to do so.


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## philomom (Sep 12, 2004)

Quote:


Originally Posted by *Fireflyforever* 
Anything else that I may have "learned" or "gained" from this experience is, as everyone else has said, absolutely not worth the cost. I could have learned to be a more compassionate person, a better wife, a better mother without having to bury a child to do so.

Thank you. My loses were many years ago now... but I still get a chip on my shoulder when someone tries to make losing my babies into some kind of divine gift to me. (shudder)


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## MI_Dawn (Jun 30, 2005)

Quote:


Originally Posted by *Fireflyforever* 
Now, I think her existence is enough. The good thing that came out of it was simply Emma herself. Because if the choice was having her, but not keeping her, compared to never having known her at all I take this choice. The one where I had her in my arms so briefly but in my life forever. My love for her - although it hurts like h*ll - is the good.


That's a painfully beautiful truth. For me, too. As I'm coming to the point where I'm really questioning whether or not we're going to actually have another baby, I know that I wouldn't ever trade my pregnancy with William and his birth for never having the experience of his existence at all. I held him and loved him and yes, I wanted more, but I got what I got. And while I had it, it really was good.

I hate thinking, "It wasn't meant to be," and stuff like that. It drives me crazy, but the thoughts come up anyway, esp since we've had such trouble getting (and staying) pg since we lost him.

I don't know if I'm a better person since his loss... I wish that were true. But I am a different person.

The one thing I will be eternally grateful for are the women here who have been rocks of support, even in their own pain. That is the best thing, I think to come of my son's death.


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## NullSet (Dec 19, 2004)

Not so much a silver lining as a different path taken. I don't know whether this path is any better or worse than the one had my dd lived. I never got to see where that path would lead.


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## japonica (May 26, 2005)

Quote:


Originally Posted by *Fireflyforever* 
Now, I think her existence is enough. The good thing that came out of it was simply Emma herself. Because if the choice was having her, but not keeping her, compared to never having known her at all I take this choice. The one where I had her in my arms so briefly but in my life forever. My love for her - although it hurts like h*ll - is the good.

Anything else that I may have "learned" or "gained" from this experience is, as everyone else has said, absolutely not worth the cost. I could have learned to be a more compassionate person, a better wife, a better mother without having to bury a child to do so.

Well said, Jill. It'll be 7 years this August for me that we lost our daughter and I think just her presence and the experience of this kind of love (and loss) is the "good."

And she made me really re-examine my life, from my core outwards...and some of the choices I might have made in the past, well I made them differently. And these changes have benefitted her siblings. That was her gift to them...that is also the positive of her legacy. But I don't like to look at it as "well, there's the reason why, there's the silver lining..." It's so much more complex than that.


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## green23 (Aug 3, 2004)

I think everyone will have a different take on this depending on their background and perspective. Also, in my opinion stillborn loss is different and harder than miscarriage. I don't say this to diminish anyone's feelings, it's just a theory. I lost my baby at 16w6d and as hard as it was I am sure it would have been even harder at 40w.

Anyway, back to your question. I also searched for answers and silver linings. We had been trying for a second child since a year after DD was born 8 years ago. Had basically given up and fostered three siblings two years ago. Then I had a surprise pregnancy. We were thrilled and so was everyone around us. After the miscarriage I kept asking "why me?", " why did all the feelings of insecurity and negativity around our infertility issues have to be dragged up again?". it was like the biggest sore in my life was opened and salt poured on. Dh and I fought about it again and again but it did help finish off some unfinished business.

Also, my DD was born by emergency c-sec which I was very upset about as I would have had a homebirth if DH would have agreed. I found out the baby had died and miscarried at home alone that night (DH was overseas, kids were asleep). I had strong contractions for 2 hours and handled it on my own and I am proud of my body for doing that as efficiently and effectively as possible. In a small way it made me feel like my body was okay, not broken like I had thought all this time with the infertility. First I got pregnant with no intervention and then my body knew how to deal with a baby that wasn't going to make it to term.

If I had the choice would I want to go through all that knowing there would be no baby? I don't know. Part of me actually thinks yes although some of it was horrible and more horrible. I did learn things about myself, my marriage and my still burning desire to get pregnant and give birth and have a biological child even though I have four amazing kids. The love from the kids towards this unborn child was amazing.

Thanks for opening up this topic. I am so sorry for your loss. I hope you are getting the support you need and taking the time to heal.


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## JayJay (Aug 1, 2008)

Ah Jill! How true! I too celebrate Josie's being as part of my brood every single day - and God she was gorgeous. What I wouldn't do to hold her for just one more day...







You're quite right - one can't dismiss the fact that our babies were miraculously made little human beings and absolutely worth every second of time we spent with them in utero - that's something I've said before, I know.

Heck, I wouldn't trade a day I had with her. She was and still is a gift! Beautiful words Jill! *HUGE hugs* XxX









I tell you though, had it not been for Josie's passing, I would probably still be where I was - too tired, overstressed, not as good a mother as now. Seriously I do believe the path I am taking in my life now has precipitated from the events of October 10th, 2008, and I firmly believe I am a better, more morally in-tune, more compassionate and definitely a more "in the present" person because of the stillbirth of Josie. Her loss shook me to the core and forced me to plant my feet more firmly in the ground than I ever thought was possible.

I sincerely do not believe that without her loss, I'd be this way. So that positive light shone on the rest of my life, the future, everything, comes from her too. Sometimes one needs a completely life changing event to kick one in the a$$ - and this was mine. Without this happening I would not be who I am today: I know that for a fact - and who I am today is better for my family and better for everyone around me!


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