I am honored and flattered and strangely speechless about being the first feature in my friend Erin’s new series, Show Me YOUR Roots.
The prompt is to write about what brought you to the place you are in now — personally, professionally, in regards to your blogging/writing.
I hope you’ll click over and read. Erin is a brilliant writer and I’m sure you’ll want to add her site to your reader as well.
This week, the world — the Universe — said goodbye to a very special person. Susan Niebur (@whymommy) was a very bright light in the world. One who wore many hats. She wore the hats of wife, mother, sister, daughter, best friend, aunt, NASA scientist, blogger, inflammatory breast cancer butt-kicker and many others.
She also wore the hat of “friend” to so many in the blogosphere, whether they had met Susan or not. I did have the honor and privilege of meeting Susan last summer at Type A Conference where she won the Bloganthropy award. Becky and I had a long conversation with her about a lot of things. The topic turned towards her health somehow and I remember her saying “when I die” and thinking, “not when, but if.”
But Susan knew. She knew that her time was very limited. She talked about being concerned for her children and how they would handle her death. She mentioned things specifically and a few of Band Back Together’s resources were actually made for her specifically, because she needed to know how to handle some things.
I remember giving her a very gentle hug and telling her I would continue to pray for her and her family.
When her husband posted the words we had all known were coming, but didn’t want to hear, I wept. I cried like I would if I heard that one of my dear (in real life) friends had died.
“But she’s just your friend online.”
That’s the thing I want to say. There’s hardly a line between my online friends and my real-life friends (apart from my 3 very best friends in the world) anymore. The line is blurry and almost non-existent. I’ve met so many wonderful people online, a lot of them I would likely never have befriended in real life, though. But the variety of people and the different views that they have, have changed me for the better.
These friends are just like the ones I can see at a party or church, only I’ll likely never meet them. We all worry when kids are sick. We cheer for them when they have a job interview or a big meeting. We want them to share the recipe for that delicious dinner they showed us. We cry when they lose someone special to them or a pet.
We feel helpless when we can’t physically be there to help them.
And we weep and grieve when one of our own dies.
It brings up a very big fear in most of us mothers out there. I’m not afraid of dying, but I am petrified beyond belief of dying and leaving Henry and Jason behind. In fact, it’s so paralyzing, my heart rate is up just typing that.
When I was telling Jason about Susan the other night, he got very bothered thinking about what would happen if I died. The first thing he said was, “I wouldn’t know who to tell. I don’t know how to tell all your friends that are online. You have to leave me very specific instructions.“
I actually have a file on my desktop that’s called OPEN IF I DIE. I need to update it, but essentially it has all my login information and very specific instructions on who to tell and how to be able to tell them.
I urge you to do the same. Just as you would have a will and life insurance (YOU SHOULD HAVE THOSE THINGS NOW!), in this day and age, you should have a document that tells someone what to do to let your friends online know of anything that has happened. Do it for Susan. Because I feel 100% certain her husband had specific instructions on how to share her death with those who loved her dearly.
Since Monday, Coldplay’s song Yellow, one of my favorites, has been in my head. The lyrics are at the top. I feel like Susan’s aura was yellow above all so I went and looked it up.
Yellow is the color of awakening, inspiration, intelligence and action shared, creative, playful, optimistic, easy-going.
I see Susan in all of those words. And I will forever see her in every star and moon.
Thank you, Susan, for being an inspiration. Thank you for sharing of yourself, your struggles, your celebrations and your life. Thank you for paving the way for women in science and advocating for breast cancer patients. We are all better people for knowing you.
And I’m forever grateful for the one gentle hug I was able to give you.
Rest well and shine bright on your family today and always.
Image: Flickr user Cano Vääri
I’ve talked about the dilemma before many times. The dreaded question when you’ve had a child die.
“How many children do you have?”
“Is he your only child?”
There are two different answers. One is the answer I give in passing to people who don’t really need to know. You know, the grocery bagger, the waitress, the lady sitting by you in the airport. They are people you’ll never see again so you don’t want to bring down the room by being all debbie-downer on them.
But then there is the other answer. This is the one reserved for people you will see again, possibly socialize with and who will get to know you better. (Or the ones who might stumble across your blog or Twitter and go OMG YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THAT.) Those people get the answer that goes like this: “No. Henry’s our second child. Our first son died when he was 24 days old from an infection. So I have two children, but only one I have to run after.”
That’s my stock answer. And yes, they usually get flustered and I have to calm them down by saying, “It’s ok. We’re ok. It was a very rare thing and even though it sucks, it’s made us who we are today.”
Yesterday, I took Henry for a haircut. You know, a good ole birthday haircut because he was starting to look like Shaggy on Scooby Doo. Now he looks even MORE grown up than he did in yesterday’s post.
Anyway, he was getting his hair washed and the girl was talking to him.
Girl: So how old are you?
HL: I’m 7. Today’s my birthday.
Girl: {getting all excited} Really? That’s so cool! Happy birthday! What are you going to do tonight?
HL: We’re going to go have a birthday dinner at Cheeseburger in Paradise.
Girl: Oh, what are you going to get?
HL: A cheeseburger. But without cheese. Just meat.
Girl: {giggling} That sounds delicious.
HL: I love it. Have you been?
Girl: No. {looks at me} He’s so cute. Is he your only child?
Me: He is.
HL: {gives me the crooked-head whatchu talkin’ bout Willis look} MoooOOOom
HL: {tells the girl} No. I have a brother. Mom, tell her.
Me: {feeling myself blush and my heart start to race} He’s right. He does have a brother. Our first son died when he was only a few weeks old. {to Henry because he got the hurt feelings look on his face} Sorry, buddy, I should have said you do have a brother.
HL: {adamantly} Yeah, you should have. Charlie is my brother.
Girl: {looking stunned} I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I had a miscarriage last week.
Me: I’m so sorry. That’s just terrible.
HL: I think I’ll get fries and ice cream with my cheeseburger without cheese tonight. Is that ok, mom?
So there you have it.
It was interesting to see his facial expression when he looked at me that way. It was as if he was trying to telepathically send me a message saying “Why didn’t you tell her?”
I think it hurt his feelings which makes me smile a little inside. Strange, huh?
Let me explain.
We talk about Charlie a good bit. Not a lot. Not every day. But we make a point to talk about him often. Henry knows he would be his friend Meg’s age, older than him. He knows he got very sick and died. He KNOWS he has a brother. He’s known that for a long time.
But now I think, in his heart, he understands what that means. He gets it now. He HAS a brother. He will never know him, but I know that he will always feel that a piece of his heart belongs to his brother.
I just hope he never has to know what it feels like to have a piece of your heart missing like his daddy and I do.
Today, October 15, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. In 2006, after years of pushing for it, the day was recognized by the House of Representatives. In 1988, President Reagan had declared October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. But in my opinion, celebrating this day for ONE day is much easier for a parent who has lost a child than for the whole month.
The International Wave of Light is the simultaneous lighting of candles in memory of these babies lost to miscarriage, stillbirth or infant loss at 7pm in your local time zone tonight. The result is a continuous chain of light spanning the globe for a 24 hour period. Just think about that for a minute. How beautiful!
So tonight at 7pm, wherever you are, light a candle or say a prayer (or do what you do) in memory of all the baby angels that are watching over us and in honor of all the parents left behind to grieve the loss of dreams and bright futures for their children.
These are my special Angels and members of The Club I will be lighting a candle for tonight:
** I will add babies if you email me at janasthinkingplace@me.com to tell me you want me to add your angel. I know there are so many more, but I don’t want to publish without your permission. These are from last year and I’ve added new ones. I have also decided to add older children because really, they’re all our babies.**
There are wonderful resources for parents who have lost a child, are battling infertility, are facing chronic illnesses with their children and many other topics over at Band Back Together. Check it out if you haven’t already!
I think we can all agree that there is a “Day” for everything now. Right? You with me?
Just this month we have the obvious ones like Columbus Day and Halloween.
Then you have the more obscure, like International Walk To School day (which is today), National “Ah Nothin..” Day (Oct. 11) and International Menopausal Day (Oct. 20). Yes, there is a day to honor hot flashes and ultra-bitchiness. That makes that day my favorite by far!
But then there’s October 15. The day when we remember “The Club’s” Babies. October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and there are many ways you can remember these precious souls.
This year, Band Back Together will have a Wall of Remembrance, a post that will continuously be added to with information about your baby. To participate in that, send an email to jana@bandbacktogether.com with the following information:
