Category: Stillbirth

Infant Loss Memorial Day 2024: A Decade of Remembering our Baby

On By Anna EastlandIn motherhood, Stillbirth8 Comments

There are some special clubs you never want to join, no matter how amazing the members are, no matter what mysteries you will learn about, or how much you’ll grow. There are some ways that one wants to be stretched. 

There are elite clubs whose admission fee is far too high, whose membership demands more than an arm and a leg, more than all your stored-up savings, more than all your saved-up strength. There are some which require having your very heart ripped open and then sewn back together to make it bigger. 

There are some clubs that will change you more than you ever thought possible—that will transform you into an instrument of healing for others. You will be able to reach people more deeply than ever before, for by your wounds they shall be healed. 

These clubs are full of the most courageous, generous people you’ve ever met, who have become more than friends, who are now your sisters, who are family. And yet, like most families, you were born into it by the shedding of blood. 

The wisdom gained by suffering is so hard-won. 

Oh, would that I were foolish and innocent again! That the world was simple and safe, and heartbreak was but a thing in songs, and not present in the echos of my own heartbeat.  

But you cannot return to life before, just as a snake can’t crawl back into its old skin. Your heart has been carved by caverns of sorrow—it will not return to its former shape.  This is you now—forever transformed by losing a child. Their very DNA is forever etched into your bloodstream, their silent existence is always in your living breath. You would not have it otherwise—the numbness of forgetting your child would be worse than feeling the pain of a love that never stops reaching for your little lost one. 

You see them in the outline of a fallen leaf, in the delicate curve of a snowdrop, in the twinkle of stars between cherry blossoms on a spring night, in the misty face of the harvest moon, distant and ethereal, yet bathing the whole world in its light. 

It’s been ten years since my little darling died in labour and I joined the sisterhood of bereaved mothers. 

We have no special uniforms or club member pins, come from all social classes and backgrounds and generally walk through the crowds unnoticed. But perhaps you’ll see those extra wrinkles around our eyes because we have laughed and cried so deeply.

Perhaps you’ve felt the sincere warmth of our hugs after you’ve shared your worries with us, and the roaring power of our prayers when you were in labour. Because we know. We know. And we love you enough to wish that you will never join us.

There are enough of us already, and once a member, always a member. No need for yearly dues; your heart, once broken, is payment enough. 

Never-ending Love—A New Book on Infant Loss

On By Anna EastlandIn Maternal Health, motherhood, Poetry, Stillbirth6 Comments

Hi Everyone,

I’m excited to share with you the publication of a book that I wrote a chapter for, called Never-ending Love: Sharing Stories, Prayers and Comfort for Miscarriage and Infant Loss

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My chapter is called “Flurries of Stardust.” I wrote about how grief fuelled my poetry, and how writing helped me heal my heart after my Josephine’s stillbirth. My best friend Monique Leblanc and her husband Ryan wrote with honesty and grace about how their faith helped them through the experience of losing their son half way through pregnancy. We contributed to our first book, Love Rebel:Reclaiming Motherhood together years ago, shortly after losing our babies.

Now our words are together between the covers again! Here’s an excerpt the back of Never-ending Love:

“In this long-awaited resource, a range of voices offer their perspective on how faith can be a source of support, hope and healing for those grieving the loss of a child before, during or soon after birth.

 Words of experience and wisdom from various perspectives – several women, a married couple, a medical doctor, a pastor, a theologian, a team of liturgists offering rituals to mark the loss, and approaches parishes and dioceses can take – are complemented by prayers and resources for working with grieving couples.

St. Paul tells us that “Love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13:8). As a Christian community, we can help couples express and remember their never-ending love for their beloved child, who will always have a cherished place in their hearts and their lives.”

Never-ending Love will be a helpful companion for families who have lost babies, as well as friends and pastors who’d like tools, ideas, and prayers to support them better. Here is the link:

Never-Ending Love

As it will be Josephine’s ninth anniversary this Saturday, September 30th, I’m happy to have this book to offer in her memory.

Babyloss Awareness Day: October 15th

On By Anna EastlandIn motherhood, StillbirthLeave a comment

About 6 years and two weeks ago, my little daughter Josephine was born still. It felt like a crazy freak accident, something no one else would understand. Sadly, that’s not true—there are many people who do. This silent tragedy is all too common, although it often remains hidden until it happens to you to someone close to you.

So for all the moms and dads who are going through this kind of loss right now, or have in the past, know you’re not alone. Reach out and share your love and your sorrow…there are many broken hearts big enough to share your pain and offer the comfort of their company. May knowing there are others still standing after this, and still able to find beauty in life despite the pain, give you some flicker of hope.

✨❤️✨

Every Child Matters: September 30th

On By Anna EastlandIn motherhood, StillbirthLeave a comment

This September 30th was the 5th anniversary of my daughter Josephine’s birth. And death. Stillborn. It’s a bittersweet day for me, as we mourn and remember and celebrate her, especially by planting fall bulbs which will fill our garden with colour in the spring. We try to fill her birthday, one haunted by painful memories, with as much love and beauty as we can. We feel the wordless warmth of her love in return, across the temporary divide into the next life. The prayers and kind messages of friends take the sharp edge off this poignant day.

Josephine’s birthday is also Orange Shirt day, the special day assigned to commemorate the suffering of First Nations children separated from their families and put in residential schools. Having lost a child myself, I feel a stab of sympathy when I think of these families who had their children torn away from them. They had the additional torture of anxiety for their children’s happiness and well-being, knowing these were being violated. So from the heart of a mother which has been broken by grief, I send all my deepest wishes for healing and hope to all who have suffered in this way.

I was touched by the slogan below when my sister sent me this poster:

Every child matters.

No qualifying statements: no ‘if/then clauses’ like if they’re wealthy, they matter; if they’re white, they matter; if they’re wanted, they matter, if they’re old enough, they matter. No.

EVERY CHILD MATTERS.

When I saw a petition for equal health care for Inuit babies, I was a bit naively shocked….what do you mean, some babies in Canada often don’t receive equal care?? It seems that in their more extreme climate, many Inuit babies suffer seriously from RSV (respiratory virus syndrome), and some even succumb to it, despite the existence of a preventative antibody that is normally given to at-risk babies. It is not standardly given to them. I’m at a loss to know why. Cost, perhaps? Since when have we put a price tag on human life? Moreover, why is that price tag different depending whose child you are? Every child matters.

To say that some babies matter more than others is to commodify human beings, that is, to turn them into objects of variable worth…mere things whose value is determined by other frail human beings. This makes no sense. Either all babies matter, or none do.

Canada is such a gift. A beautiful country which is filled with so many diverse peoples. Let us please work towards making it a place where it is truly clear that every child matters, no matter what.

A Walk to See Her Sister

On By Anna EastlandIn Family Life, Stillbirth2 Comments

The toddler tumbles like laughter

over the dry grass.

Disregarding all signs of mourning,

she chases the crows with open delight.

She greets everyone she sees,

all the mummy’s and daddies and “bapa’s,”

convinced each one is part of her family.

She even ambles after a thin, pink-shirted man

with a slight bend in his back,

calling: “Bapa! Bapa!”

When we reach her sister’s grave

she sits happily on my lap,

and leans over to pat the “Staahhh.”

I tell her it’s Josephine, a name she can’t yet say.

Unphased, she takes her nursing blankie

and flaps it about and pats it

until her sister’s stone is nicely tucked in

with her name peeking above the blanket.

“Baby, nigh, nigh,” she tells me.

Then grabbing her blankie

she trundles off to seek new adventures

and waves, “Baa-bye!”

trusting I will follow.

I kiss the dusty stone

and rise.

Beautiful

On By Anna EastlandIn motherhood, Poetry, Stillbirth, UncategorizedLeave a comment
Yesterday I stumbled across this poem I wrote some time ago for dear friends who had suffered yet another painful miscarriage. As a number of people in our church community have either recently lost young children, or are approaching anniversaries of loss, I decided to share it.

Beautiful the face of a mother,

who suffers and who loves,

endlessly giving her all,

her very self, day and night.

Beautiful the face of a father,

whose word of love has become flesh,

and brought him joy,

and the necessity to serve,

forgetting himself.

Beautiful the hearts of husband and wife,

who give up pieces of themselves,

and let them to walk around outside their bodies,

tugging on their heartstrings

until they break.

Beautiful the sorrow of those who trust in God,

while they ache inside and long for the gift

that was briefly theirs,

but has flown to Heaven.

Beautiful the “Amen’s” that cost us the most,

the letting go,

the giving up what we only loved,

but never owned.

Beautiful the hearts that don’t lose faith,

when all seems cold and incomprehensible.

Beautiful the love that is stronger than death,

that stretches into eternity,

and bursts into God’s light with joyous triumph

on that day of reunion

which is to come.

Happy 4th Birthday, Josephine!

On By Anna EastlandIn Friendship, motherhood, StillbirthLeave a comment

Thank you to everyone for making this day special! Your kind words, hugs, prayers, and thoughtful gifts meant so much! I was really happy to see many of you today.

I was especially touched by this beautiful piece commissioned by my friend Rachel and painted by my talented babysitter and art student Michelle. It captures so perfectly the essence of the first poem I wrote for Josephine after she passed away:

Josephine flashed before us

with the brightness and beauty

of a shooting star

Our hearts are broken by the briefness

of her visit with us

She has climbed onto our Father God’s lap

and is whispering to him our secrets

with sweet confidence

Speak to her in your hearts

the only language she will ever know is love

Four Years but Love is Forever

On By Anna EastlandIn motherhood, Stillbirth1 Comment

I have footprints on my heart. Don’t think that because they were left there four years ago they have faded. The impact of those tiny feet on my heart is irrevocable. I will be forever changed by losing a baby at birth. Besides a tiny curl of dark hair, all I physically have of her is a little plaster cast of her feet. Of course it is unspeakably precious to me. I have it nestled in a piece of the same fleecy soft blanket she is buried in. This is much more than many poor women who lose babies through miscarriage get.

Those of you who are close to me or have been following my blog for some time will know that I lost my baby Josephine just before she was born, due to a cord accident. She was my sixth and I was so ready for her to come…the bassinet set up, newborn diapers on the shelf, the house stocked with groceries…I even had her Christmas present already: a wind-up musical swan with her baby on her back.

She was fine at our last checkup, and then, that night in the hospital…no heartbeat. Just silence. Of course it broke my heart. My family and friends, sweet husband and kids helped hold it together.

She would have been four years old this Sunday, September 30th.

Four years and two healthy babies later, I am much more ok than I was at her first anniversary, or even her second, but sometimes things catch me off guard. I was trying to plan her birthday…maybe lots of us could go to the graveyard and bring tons of flowers…and then I thought, four year olds don’t want flowers! They want toys, and cake and balloons…music and mess and the chaos of 20 kids running through the house dressed as fairies and princesses. It hurts that I can’t give her those things, even though she doesn’t need them. Even though she’s up with the stars and her heart is brimming with love, utterly safe, totally loved, in the peaceful presence of God. I still want to do these simple, silly things for her.

So, we do what we can. The kids and I have made it a birthday week. The other day when we ordered groceries from Save-On, we got chocolate cake. We put on candles and sang. We celebrate her because we love her. We are proud she’s part of our family.

We ordered ice-cream, too and had it the next day. Ben and Jerry’s “If I had a Million Flavours.” We made blueberry crisp, too. We will have mini-cereal boxes on her birthday, as we do for the other kids on their birthdays, because they need her to be just another one of them. She’s in Heaven, but she’s still their sister.

On Sunday after Mass and pancakes we will go to the graveyard and bring flowers. We will spend a little time near her praying, and the little ones will likely run about on the grass and read the names of the people who’ve gone before us: young soldiers from the bicycle squad, grandmas and grandpas from the old country, mothers, fathers, babies who never took a breath outside the womb. All the people who await us in Heaven.

Then, because it’s nice to not be alone on this bittersweet day, we will pick up some of our favourite Indian take-out and go to have dinner at a friend’s place. Surrounded by love, just like our daughter Josephine.

Next week we will plant fall flower bulbs to bloom next spring, just like we did last year: Josephine’s flowers. Hiding under the earth and snow, but secretly full of life. Like the promise of eternal life…always making this life more beautiful.

We want her to be remembered. We are proud to be her family. Sharing her story helps us to honour her and to heal, and to know we are not alone.

Do you have footprints on your heart?

Share your story with #IHaveFootprintsOnMyHeart.