This Edition’s Topic:

Mother’s Day & Mother’s Day &

Father’s Day GriefFather’s Day Grief

We hope this brings you comfort

and hope for the future.

Sharing Magazine...Sharing Magazine...Sharing Magazine... touching lives…

healing hearts…

giving hope...

Volume 24, Issue 3Volume 24, Issue 3

May/June 2015May/June 2015

Dear Friends,

Spring has sprung in St Louis! Things are blooming, the Cardinals are playing

baseball, and the Share office is bustling with an overflow of items for Angel Ball.

We are all in grateful relief from the winter weather.

It has been a busy winter and a lively spring so far. In the previous issue we

introduced Sarah Lawrenz, our Share Development Director. Sarah has virtually

hit the ground running as she jumped right into planning the 13th Annual Angel

Ball. Her years of experience coordinating events have been invaluable to all of us

in getting this major event organized. You can read more about this warm

gathering of wonderful Share friends and family as we celebrated our theme “April

in Paris” on page 20 of this issue.

We also recently welcomed another staff member to Share. Shannon Keating

joined us as our Administrative Assistant and will be assuming some of the

responsibilities previously held by Caitlyn Wood, who moved on from Share to

pursue other career opportunities. While we wish her well and are grateful for her

three years of service with our organization, we are also delighted to have Shannon

on board.

Shannon will be putting her background in Public Health and her five years of

experience in coordinating various health related projects to good use in her work

at Share. She has already been helpful, jumping in at this very busy time. Please

join us in welcoming Shannon to Share, and feel free to reach out to both Shannon

and Sarah. They are enjoying getting to know our extended Share family and look

forward to meeting each of you!

As we approach this season of acknowledgement of Mothers and Fathers, we at

Share are tuned into the bittersweet season it may be for our parents. We

celebrate with you that you are parents first and foremost—parenting in a way you

never anticipated, but with all the love you ever imagined. We also grieve with

you, for those same reasons.

Some of the gatherings and celebrations during May and June, in recognition of

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, while well intended, may serve as painful

reminders of your loss. The times with beloved family may prove to be especially

difficult.

In this issue we hope you find love and support of others who share their stories

and stretch out their arms to embrace you as you step forward in your journey.

Each time a story is told, and heard, is another step toward hope and healing.

There is great power in a community of love and sharing. We are here to be a

source of support and consider it a great privilege to walk alongside you.

Blessings to you and your family,

Behind the Scenes...

Rose Carlson

Program Director

Jen Wilmes

Accounting Manager

Jennifer Stachula

Chapter Coordinator

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Debbie Cochran, RN

Executive Director

Cathi Lammert, RN

Educator

Patti Budnik

Companion

Coordinator

Jaclyn Nikodym

Development & PR

Associate

Sarah Lawrenz

Development

Director

Shannon Keating

Administrative

Assistant

Debra Cochran, RN

In Every Issue...

Dear Friends……………………….…2

In Memory Of…….….….….….….….9

Features...

4………….Mother’s and Father’s Day Permissions

5………….Sharing & Caring Fall Bereavement Training

5………….International Perinatal Bereavement Conference 6……...….You Are Loved

7……..…...Hand Poem For Our Dear Daughter 8……..…..Daddy’s Chest

10….…..Mother’s Day Reflections 11…….…I Am Still a Mother

12……….Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope

14……….More to the Story

15……….More to the Story (cont) 16……….Never Getting Over the Loss

17………..Never Getting Over the Loss (cont.) 17………..Book Review: Helping a Parent’s Grieving Heart

17………..Always Love

20.……..Angel Ball 2015

Contents

Sharing is the official newsletter of Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. © 1997

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Mother’s and Father’s Day Permissions By: Justine Froelker, LPC

If I have learned anything throughout my own infertility journey and recovery, I have learned that we are all parents. But most likely, we will be the men and women who feel invisible these months as Mother’s and Father’s Day are upon us again.

This will be my third Mother’s Day since ending our infertility journey without the desired result of children. This Mother's Day, I will not be woken up at the crack of dawn by my little ones surprising me with handmade cards and pancakes in bed. I will not get a bouquet of dandelions picked from the yard. I will not be acknowledged by the majority of people in my life as today being any different than any other day.

My previous Mother’s Day mornings were not that much unlike every other day. I was woken early by Gertie's growling tummy, Gracie's cold nose and Bosco's gentle snoring. I spent the day with my furry children and my husband, not unlike any other regular Sunday, but all the while knowing that Mother's Day will be bittersweet for me the rest of my life.

This Mother’s Day, my husband, Chad, and I are skipping town for a long weekend trip to spend time together in the beauty of nature (and also a spa of course). My goal is to stay off social media, and I will definitely be staying away from children- friendly activities because this year I want to really take care of myself honoring all the complicated

gray of the infertility and loss journey.

I will spend the day allowing myself to feel the anger at how unfair it can feel that I won't ever get the joy of my children making this day all about me. I will spend my day allowing myself to feel the sadness at the lifelong costs and losses of infertility. I will spend the day at peace with my recovery and my work in accepting a childfull life. I will spend the day happy with my enough moments, my struggles and my light.

I will spend the day thinking of those three tiny souls in heaven never meant to bloom here. And, I will honor myself this day because I am a mother to many.

I will remind myself, as I want to remind all the mothers and fathers out there, to take care of ourselves, especially this Mother’s and Father’s Day. Make sure you receive care from your loved ones and from yourself, because it is only through filling ourselves up that we can truly give and care for others.

Never to forget the fathers of course, I would like to pass along a message you simply cannot escape from when it comes to me, no matter what version of a father you are.

Talk about it.

Ask for help.

Break your silence.

And, if it counts for anything, I give you all permission to not have to be the ever-strong husband.

I wish I had been able to communicate this more clearly to Chad as we were going through our own infertility journey. To be able to assure him that he didn't always have to be the ever strong man, never showing too much emotion and being stoically strong while I lost my sanity.

Even though it may be scary at first for us to see this authentic vulnerability from men, to actually see behind the armor of a man's strength, is truly what we want and need from our partners. And, even though this is counter intuitive to how you may have been raised and what our culture says, I believe this authentic vulnerability from men is what will make marriages and each of us happier and healthier versions of ourselves.

Especially as you are fighting through infertility and loss and even more so after, no matter your ending.

I hope you get through these days together, turning towards one another and honoring the feelings of all the feels. I am assuming time helps this day get easier eventually; in the meantime do the work, speak your story and rise ever upward.

Justine Froelker is a Licensed Professional Counselor and a Certified Daring Way™ Facilitator (based on the research of Brené Brown) with a private practice in St. Louis, Missouri.

Justine Froelker, author of Ever Upward, will donate $5 of the purchase price of Ever Upward through their online store to Share! They can visit http://ever-upward.myshopify.com/ for details and to order.

This purchase price is cheaper than most retailers and as of now will be the only place to get a signed copy of the book.

Ever Upward Donates a Portion of Sales to Share

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International Perinatal Bereavement Conference

Sharing & Caring Perinatal Bereavement Training

The National Share Office will host a Sharing & Caring: Perinatal Bereavement Training on September 25, 26, & 27, 2015 in St. Peters, MO.

The training provides individuals with the tools needed to work with families who have experienced the tragic death of a baby through early pregnancy loss, stillbirth, or in the first few months of life. The training explores pertinent topics such as the rights of parents, understanding the grief process, how to run a support group effectively, and how to gain the support of hospital staff.

Continuing Education Credits Available

This activity has been approved by the Missouri Nurses Association for approval to award 17.75 nursing contact hours. The Missouri Nurses Association is accredited as an approver of continuing nursing education by the American Nurses Credentialing Center’s Commission on Accreditation.

It has also been submitted to the National Association of Social Workers (NASW) for contact hours.

Costs

Fees include all workshop materials and lunch on Wednesday and Thursday.

1st registrant: $500; 2 or more registrants: $400 each

Workshop Location

Spencer Road Community Commons 427 Spencer Road, St. Peters, MO 63376

The workshops will be held at the Spencer Road Community Commons in St. Peters, Missouri, which is approximately 15 minutes from Lambert St. Louis International Airport.

Download the training PDF here!

For more information, visit www.nationalshare.org.

Mark your calendars for an exceptional perinatal

bereavement conference in sunny Phoenix, AZ!

Phoenix Marriott Tempe at the Buttes

Tempe, AZ on September 28th – October 1, 2016

The conference committee will soon release the Call

for Proposals on the conference website, check in soon

at www.perinatalbereavementconference.org.

For additional details, stay tuned on the PLIDA

website, www.plida.org, follow on Twitter

(@PLIDAnetworking), or like on Facebook.

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You Are Loved By: Jaimie Donnelly

Xavier Vincent Jeffrey Donnelly was born on October 8, 2014 at 5:27 p.m., and this letter was read at his memorial on October 15, 2014. He was named after his Great-Grandfather Vincent D. and his 2nd cousin, Vincent M., as well as his two grandfathers, Jeffrey T. and Jeffrey D. and his father, Jeffrey D. While an IUGR preemie at 1.5 lbs and 12.5", Xavier was healthy and had a prognosis to grow and come home with us. He unexpectedly passed away, in our arms, on October 11th at 9:05 a.m. He is buried with his Great-Grandparents, Vincent D. and Lucia D., and his Great-Great Grandparents, Jasmine 'Jimmy' P. and Eleanora P., in Bloomfield, N.J.

Dear Xavier,

Your story does not begin in 2014… it began a decade ago. It was early September 2004. Your father and I began our first date at a small Greek restaurant in Kenmore, New York. We spoke about common interests and future goals, and that is when you were first mentioned as we both had a deep desire to have a child one day. Three dates into our relationship, we both simultaneously said, “I have two things I want to say; I love you and we will marry one day.” (During my pregnancy, I would often wonder what it would be like the day you came home and told me you had found your forever love).

Two years later, as happy newlyweds, we were driving around our first home in central New Jersey. See, your mother enjoys playing what we dub as the “name

game,” thinking of interesting names that people may be called. That is when I brought up my favorite boy’s name, your name, Xavier. Your father liked it and assumed it was after St. Francis Xavier. “No,” I replied, “ I got it from the signature on the butt of my Cabbage Patch Kid Doll.” True story.

The next few years we would continue to work on building up towards our ultimate goal – having you. We traveled, built our careers and eventually purchased our first home, a cute ranch style house. I felt it was the safest type of structure to raise a feisty child. I often would imagine you rolling around in your walker or giving you nightly baths.

Five years into our marriage we would embark on a long journey that required us to experience every facet of what it meant to be hopeful and never to give up faith. Three years, or 36 months, it took to conceive you. Easter weekend of that year was extra special as we saw the word ‘pregnant’ appear across the test.

During my pregnancy, the doctors would inform us of some complications and suggested the unthinkable. I turned to your father and said, “I don’t care if he only has 3 minutes, 3 hours or 3 days, he will be born alive and he is ours.” I couldn’t have asked for a more joyous delivery. The room was

filled with happiness, excitement, laughter and smiles. You had beautiful color, were feisty and a healthy baby. Prognosis was you were to come home with us by Thanksgiving—your father’s birthday. You are proof that prayers are answered and miracles

do happen.

I was planning to frame a simple scripture for your nursery, 1 Samuel 1:27, “I prayed for this child, and the Lord granted me what I asked of him.” See, I could never be angry at God like so many parents in our situation tend to be, because he answered our prayers, we just didn’t know our time with you would be so brief. The scripture that follows, 1 Samuel 1:28, goes “Now I am giving him to the Lord, and he will belong to the Lord his whole life”.

In closing, my precious, beautiful son, I simply state the four words I will never hear you speak.

So, I will say them for you, to you.

I love you, Mommy.

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Hand Poem to our Dear Daughter By: Hannah Welker

We love & miss you everyday. Learning to love you was easy. Going on day by day with out you is tough. Our hearts ache to hold you once again, but every day without you is one day closer to you.

We know that you already know, but you are SO loved!!! -Love, Your Momma, Daddy & Sister

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I looked over there, where you once sat,

Lying on your Daddy’s chest

Who is asleep, but not at rest

Because without You he is a mess.

There is a hole deep in his heart

That will never fully heal

So while his spirit is ripped apart

I’ll listen and be still.

I’ll hear his cries and dry his eyes

When his hands and heart are heavy

And when his feet feel like concrete

I’ll be there for your Daddy

I’ll lift him up whenever he falls

Broken from the pain

Of not having You to lay on his chest

Or sit there ever again.

Daddy’s Chest By: Ginny Limer

In Memory of… Owen Backer

By: Christy Parson

Chodhary Twins Francesca & Chris - so very sorry for your loss. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

By: Gail Hernly

Garrett Charles Coleman

By: Theresa Coleman

By: Jane Castelein

By: Carolyn Haas

By: Virginia Kenny By: Donna Luck

By: Steve McCario

By: Bridget Reeves

By: Carolyn Reeves By: Hope Reeves

By: Darlene Wilhelm

Patrick James Gannon By: Cindy Gannon

Michael Anthony Paul Jacobs We are so sorry. We are praying for all of you. By: Beth Tittl

Josie Lafata

In our thoughts and prayers. Love, Kathy and Mark Leach By: Kathy Leach

Donovan Mielke

By: Dana L. Thul

Owen Paganini Loving thoughts of our great-grandson, Owen Christopher Paganini, who didn't live long enough for MeMa and PaPa Mansker to meet. Happy Valentine's Day, Happy St. Patrick's Day, and Happy Easter. By: Maryann Mansker

Joseph Pezold By: Marian Jungermann

Alexander Lee Stillman A moment on this earth but forever in our hearts.

By: Mendy O'Day

Declan Theodore Tremblay

By: Sarah Greer

Hunter Charles Webb

In honor of our son, Hunter Charles Webb By: Betsy Webb

Avery Winker By: Kim Winker

Baby O By: The Acevedo Family

In memory of our lost child

By: Rachel M. Berlin

Remi Isabella

By: Kim Goebel

Giuliana By: Nicole Gonzalez

In Honor of… All families of pregnancy loss Sis-- this year I honoring all families that experience pregnancy loss. The focus is on the healing -- to never forget the loss but to embrace life and our living gifts. By: Anthony Chavez

Friends of Share… Baue Funeral Home Bravelets Pacific Lumber Company Catherine Aujero Meredith Byers Debbie Cochran The Boeing Company Nikki Cordosi Raymond D'Auria Rahul Suhas Dighe Michelle Foster Wendy E. Garcia-Mercado Crystal Gatewood Derek and Jennifer Haake Lisa Hamilton Linda Hermann Becky Hinkel Linda Jenkins Tangie Jenkins Katie Johnson Karen Kahn Darryl Kessler Tamara Khan Catherine Lammert Steven Light Susan Manney Mike Margherio Susan Mason Francine McVey Cassandra Beshears Orellana David J. Reinhart Megan Rowekamp James Running Valerie Sturm Chris Swinney Gary Wellman Dean and Deb Welsch

Thank You for Your Gifts!

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Double Your Donation Dollars!

Want to maximize the impact your gifts have? Ask your employer to

match your donations. Many companies match dollar for dollar,

turning a $100 gift into $200 in just a few simple steps.

http://nationalshare.org/donate/matching-gifts/

Page 10 Vo lu me 24 , I s su e 3

“Mother’s Day.” It is amazing to me the power of these two simple words and the mix of emotions this day brings for me. Mother’s Day is supposed to be a celebration of how life continues from one generation to the next. Throughout my pregnancy, I could not wait to meet my child, teach him about life, and learn through his eyes.

When one of my friends sent me a Happy Mother’s day card during my pregnancy, I chuckled, thinking that I was not yet a mother. Sure, I was growing a baby inside me, but it didn’t feel like I was a mother, so it was odd to celebrate the day as a mother, and not just a daughter. The following year, I promised myself, I would revel in the joys of motherhood and celebrate Mother’s Day as a daughter and a mother! But somehow during pregnancy it just didn’t feel appropriate to celebrate the day as a mother.

Oh, how I wish I could turn back the clock sometimes. That was the only Mother’s Day that I experienced while David was alive. Sadly, he was a full-term stillbirth, and I never had the chance to feel his breath against my cheek, gaze into his eyes and feel his love, or hear him wish me a Happy Mother’s Day.

Every year as Mother’s Day approaches, my heart aches. For those who have experienced the loss of a child, this is a commonly shared feeling. Spring is in the air, and joy is supposed to accompany this. Fields are lined with blue bonnets, crocuses, tulips, daffodils and other beautiful flowers. There is such serenity in the sights and sounds of nature. Yet, inside me there is turmoil and a range of emotions including anger, resentment, jealousy, sadness, and most of all loneliness.

I still remember my very first Mother’s Day after David’s birth/

death. As a single mother, I had to find the strength within me to muster through the holiday. Television commercials, storefront displays, and newspaper advertisements were frequent reminders of all that I was dreading. I wanted to scream to the world that I was a childless mother, and I deserved to be noticed and acknowledged. I even got the courage to browse the greeting cards, hoping to find one appropriate for a childless mother.

I read every card in the section while tears streamed down my cheeks. None of the cards were appropriate. They were all sappy, loving inscriptions intended to be the perspective from a child to their mother, or from a spouse to the mother of their child. The more I read, the more alone I felt.

I could go on and on about the grief of a childless mother, but that is a perspective others can contribute. I want to share my perspective as a single grieving mother because I don’t often see this perspective represented.

Whatever the reason that brings a mother to be a single parent, it is hard. Grieving as a single parent is virtually unimaginable. In the days when I could hardly get myself out of bed, nobody was there to hoist me up and tell me that I could do it. When I wanted someone to wrap their arms around me and comfort me, I was alone. When I woke up in the middle of the night with phantom kicks, I reached for the empty pillow beside me. When my milk came in days after birthing David, I had to bind the cabbage leaves around my body myself. When I felt strong enough to attend my first bereavement support group, I went alone. I was surrounded by couples who were talking about trying again after a loss. I felt so uncomfortable as I could not identify with anyone. Yet

this was the only place where others knew the pain and suffering of a pregnancy loss. So, I returned regularly.

I sought companionship online through support groups, message boards, and chat rooms. An amazing group of women offered words of comfort, validated my feelings, and, just for a moment, made me feel less lonely – until I turned off the computer and realized I was all by myself and alone in my grief.

Over time, the intensity of the grief subsided. I went on to have another child, who entered the world healthy and happy. For the first time in a very long time, I began to experience joy in my life. But it is often a bittersweet joy, celebrating motherhood with my living child, and grieving the missed lifetime with David.

It’s been nine years since my very first Mother’s Day when I was pregnant with David. Each year the grief changes and manifests itself in different ways, but it never fades away. I am able to celebrate the day as a mother with gratitude for having learned that a childless mother is still a mother, with love and devotion to her child so great that death cannot break that bond. I am also grateful for the ability to share this day with my living child, hear him wish me a Happy Mother’s Day, gaze lovingly in my eyes, and wrap his arms around me as he tells me he loves me and misses the brother he never knew.

Although I treasure these moments with my living child, Mother’s Day is like a bee sting – it hurts a lot, swells, and eventually the intensity of the pain subsides. Don’t ask me how I feel about Father’s Day. That is like adding salt to the wound. It is a vivid reminder that I really am alone in this journey of grief as a single parent.

Mother’s Day Reflections By: Rachel Cone

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When Mother’s Day arrived just a few months after my first baby had been born still, I wasn’t sure how I would get through the day. What I really wanted to do was pretend it didn’t exist at all, but I knew I needed to find a way to celebrate it for my mother and my husband’s mother. My biggest fear was that no one in my family would honor ME as a mother since my only child, my daughter Reagan, had died.

As the day approached, I really struggled. The year before, I had announced my pregnancy to my family on Mother’s Day. I had told my mom a few days before, and she had a special “Congratulations to the Mom to be” card for me. She wrote in the card that she couldn’t wait until next Mother’s Day when she could celebrate her first Moth-er’s Day as a grandmother. So I not only longed for a way to celebrate myself as a mother, but I longed for a way to celebrate my mom as a grandmother. I know that most people in my family didn’t consider her a “real” grandmother since she had no living grandchildren, but I know she did, and I know I did too.

My mom loves to garden, and her flowers and plants are admired by everyone. So, I decided I would give her a special plant for her garden that would remind her of my Reagan. My mom loves all types of flowers and plants, and I had a hard time choosing. Since Reagan had been born in the winter, nothing was blooming in our cold climate, so that gave me no ideas. I finally decided to give her a white rose bush because it reminded me of the snow that was softly falling on the day we buried Reagan. I also bought one for myself, even though I didn’t inherit my mother’s green thumb. Three years later, both rose bushes are thriving, and every year around Mother’s Day, my mom adds another white flower to her garden in memory of Reagan. The next year, I bought my mom and I both flat stones for our gardens. I plan to add something new to our gardens each year, and I have start-ed a scrapbook only for pictures of Reagan’s gardens.

Something else that was important to me on that first Mother’s Day is

that my family acknowledge me as a mother, even though my child was not there celebrating with us. I told my mom this, and imagine my surprise when at dinner at my mom’s house, everyone there, even my grandmother who had not been supportive of me at all had a card for me, placed in a small white bas-ket that my mom had decorated with pink and green ribbons. I cried when I read each of those cards. To this day, I keep them in the basket on a shelf in my living room. When I am feeling blue, I love to look through the cards. Even though I still do not have a living child, my family members still give me cards on Mother’s Day, and over the years, my collection has grown. Each year, I put the cards in that pretty little basket. Someday, I hope to have a living child, and I will add the congratulation cards to the basket. That basket is one of my most treasured keepsakes because it reminds me daily that even though my child is not here, I am still a mother.

I Am Still a Mother By: Kristina Marie Coombs

#GiveSTLDay: 24 Hours of Giving: May 5th

Set a phone reminder and mark your calendar for May 5, 2015, known as Give STL Day!

Once again, Share Pregnancy & In-fant Loss Support will be partici-pating in this 24-hour giving initia-tive to support local nonprofits.

Large and small gifts will combine for big impact, resulting in support free of charge for bereaved families

across the nation.

Visit www.givestlday.org for addi-tional details, and don’t forget to give on May 5!

Follow Share on Twitter (@Share1977) and like our Face-book page for continual updates.

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Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope http://facesofloss.com/

The time of year that most parents who have lost children usually dread, is approaching. Mother's Day and Father's Day was the ultimate sting duo of "holidays" that sent me into a tailspin when I lost my son in 2010 to stillbirth. I was only 6 months out from my loss and felt like my skin was transparent and my crushed heart, exposed. I felt the pain each and every time a friend would post a picture on Facebook or Instagram of the cute handprint hearts, grade school projects or overflowing bowls of cereal being served to them bedside.

When you're a parent who has lost a child, especially in that first year after loss, these HAPPY! SHINY! holidays can be among the hardest to live through. You want so badly for your child to be here, to grow and share their love for you. Now four years later, I am grateful that my firstborn son now has two living siblings to share love in our family. The true honesty of those holidays though, remains. They still sting. I still wake up on Mother's Day feeling melancholy about the whole holiday that is on the calendar to celebrate families and the mothers who raise babies to be children who become adults. But when 1/3 of my children are missing and will never be among those to climb up into my bed and deliver those coveted hugs and kisses and handmade gifts only a mother would love? It's not 100% celebratory.

One of the resources that meant the most to me in my early days of grief was a website called Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope. Started by a woman who lost her firstborn daughter, Stevie Joy, to stillbirth in the spring of 2010, Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope was launched as a 501 (c)(3) national tax-exempt nonprofit

national charity organization to help connect mothers and fathers who have lost a child to feel less alone in their grief.

Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope is a place for us all to come together and share our stories and our faces with others who may be looking for reassurance that they are not alone. I don't know of a better time to share about your child(ren) than surrounding holidays like Mother's Day and Father's Day. Everyday, babies are born to families that will never get to see them grow up. It's an isolating feeling and one that should not be felt only within oneself. Mothers and fathers who have lost children need support. They need to connect with others who share their stories and details of the child(ren) they lost.

Back in the winter of 2010, I was desperately scouring the internet to find stories from others who were like me. I wanted to see FACES and hear voices (literally and in print) of women who went through pregnancy with such hope, just to lose the baby to an unforeseen circumstance like we lose our son to stillbirth. I barely knew what a stillbirth was, and was told in a second's time that I was a victim of this type of loss, that my firstborn son with a nursery full and ready, was among that group. I found Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope and submitted my story along with my blog address and email address. A few weeks later, I received an email from a girl who lived 8 hours from me that had just lost her son at just over a week old to Meningitis. She, too, was dumbfounded, in shock and numb. She needed someone to talk with and I was her person. We were on the same grief timeline, went on to conceive again on a similar timeline, supported one

another through pregnancy and celebrated together when our first and second rainbows were born. We now, with our rainbow children and husbands, vacation together and visit one another about once a year. I have probably never written more emails to a single person than my good friend and fellow babyloss mom, Laura.

My one story submission to Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope connected me with a handful of women and that number then snowballed to about two dozen women I frequently talk with, visit, and call on a regular basis. These women have become my "tribe" that understands what life is like after loss. Every celebration and time of heartbreak feels different after loss. These women understand that. Even better, they are there at any time of day, reaching out, offering support and sending love (literally sometimes via snail mail!).

Connection means everything to someone who has lost a child. In telling the world your story, you are helping another mother who has just recently been told in the triage room of Labor & Delivery that her child was without a heartbeat. You are making another mom whose child died of SIDS feel less alone and less to blame for the unexpected loss of her child. You are sharing how you are surviving through impossible heartbreak and helping another family who just began a new grief journey by providing them hope.

We celebrated Andrew's fourth birthday in December of 2014. The pencil sketch we had ordered for his birthday is beautiful. It sits among our family photos in our living room. The tree we plan to plant for his fifth birthday this year is also something we are excited to

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Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope (cont)

do in his honor. But, none of those felt like enough. I still feel the great need, four years later, to "parent" my firstborn, stillborn child. In his honor, I decided to become a volunteer at the very nonprofit website that connected me to my friend Laura and so many others in those early days of grieving. Five more of my babyloss friends jumped on board to honor their babies as well. We've revived the website and are posting stories, with the hope to connect others to their "tribe" like we each have found in one another.

Especially as Mother's Day and Father's Day approach, we as loss families need to feel validated that we are still parents. That our baby, or babies, did exist. Sharing your story is a way to affirm all of those understandings and to acknowledge and pay tribute to the child, or children, you love so dearly. If you would like to read stories of love and loss from over a thousand other babyloss moms and dads, visit: facesofloss.com. If you would like to share your own, email story@facesofloss.com and we'll fill you in on more simple details.

From all six of us babyloss mom volunteers at Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope, missing Andrew, Eliza, Cale, Jack, Addison and Hayes everyday, we send you peace on this Mother's Day and Father's Day.

By Deborah R. Gemmill - Empty Cradle, Broken Heart conveys the message that you can survive the death of a baby. The book includes chapters for fathers, anniversaries, getting help, parents without partners, plus stories from parents. This book is available in the Share online store for $19.95.

To purchase this book, please visit https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/share/product.jsp?product=17&

For a look at the full selection of books available through Share’s online store, please visit https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/share/giftstore.jsp

Book Review: Empty Cradle, Broken Heart

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Many of my friends knew from a very young age that they wanted to be a parent. In kindergarten, my friends would play house and fight over who got to be "Mommy." I would be over in the corner lining up the other dolls and animals in my own makeshift hospital. In high school, my friends were babysitting and being nannies, and I was working extra shifts at the local nursing home to pay for college. High-school sweethearts planned weddings, while I was comparing college possibilities and trying to decide between majors. Sure, I always liked children, but I didn't have that craving to parent the way that some people did. So, it was no big deal to postpone thoughts of marriage until after a Master's Degree and even then, to feel no rush pushing me toward parenthood.

Parenthood found me, though.

About a year after getting married, while working at a fast-paced job in health care that I loved, I was terrified to discover that I was pregnant. We didn't have a lot of money coming in, and I still owed a lot of money for school. My then spouse wasn't ready to have children, and he was still finishing his degree. I was an early career social work professional, and the primary bread-winner for our household. I didn't know what we would do for child care, how we would pay for it, or what we would do in a relationship that didn’t always feel stable, let alone with a child added. I just knew, on that cold and snowy day staring at the result of a home pregnancy test, that I was scared and alone. So, I made a decision not to tell anyone, at least not yet.

I realize that this story seems outlandish for people who know me now. But, I was 23 and afraid. As I drifted around work the next few weeks, scared and alone, I just wished it wasn't true. I even wished it could all be over and my life would resume as it once was. But, I also began to try to wrap my mind around hope and possibility. I even started thinking about names and imagining the role of Mom I was going to try my hardest to live in to.

Then suddenly, it was over.

Yes, I am one of many women with a pregnancy loss that was never disclosed, or discussed. I saw my MD, who reassured me that I was okay physically, but brushed me off with a little “don’t worry, it happens to many women” talk. I didn’t ask for anything more, and I’m not sure what kind of support I would have accepted, even if it was offered. At the time I felt both relief, and inexplicable sadness. I yearned for something that I once dreaded. I felt guilty for my ambivalence, and ambivalence about my guilt. I saw my unborn child in my dreams, reaching out to me just beyond my grasp. I skipped work to take long walks and do some drawings, trying to settle my mind of the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I started to feel better, and life resumed its usual course. But, something in me had changed. I wanted to parent. I wanted it deeply, and palpably. Perhaps not right then, perhaps not even with the person I was in a relationship with at the time. But, I knew it with absolute certainty.

The strength and resilience I had found in the face of loss also fueled my career, and turned my social work practice (and later, my

research interests) to pregnancy loss and infant death. My relationship crumbled, and that first marriage ended in divorce. But, in this midst of that pile of loss, I found myself able to relocate and return to school. I learned to acknowledge the losses in my life with authenticity and vulnerability. I developed an openness to all the circumstances of loss, and a true depth of appreciation for the unspoken ambivalence many women experience with pregnancy loss. I realized that we never know the whole story, and that even the people who seem the strongest on the outside have secrets, and worries, and fears. I learned to gently ask women about the hidden areas of their grief, to listen with them in their silence, and to be present with unacknowledged loss, as one must be with a sacred space in one’s heart and soul.

Yes, my pregnancy loss changed me. Personally, I married again...this time, someone with whom I could share my pain and who wanted to ride out the adventure of parenting. I am grateful to be a parent now as we raise our daughter, who was born a decade after my own loss. I have learned so much about patient, hopeful expectation.

Professionally, I am the voice at the table that is unafraid to remind people that not everyone grieves out loud, or with images of angels and baby footprints. But, we do all grieve. I realize that some people will never attend a support group, but they still want to know that they exist. I am tolerant with silence, and present with pain. I know that personal growth takes root inside loss, and sometimes needs the jarring jolt of a life-changing event to activate. I

More to the Story By: Sarah Kye Price

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Share is pleased to announce the addition of Shannon Keating to the National Share staff as Administrative Assistant. Shannon brings five years of healthcare and volunteer experience to the Share office.

Shannon will coordinate volunteers, assist the first response

team, and handle catalog orders. She received a Master of Public Health from Saint Louis University in 2011. Please welcome Shannon!

Share Welcomes New Administrative Assistant

always know there is more to everyone’s story, and it is an honor to be present whenever that story is told.

Sarah Kye Price, PhD, MSW, MS is Associate Professor at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, VA.

She has been Past President of the Pregnancy Loss and Infant Death

Alliance, and has worked in both New York and Missouri providing bereavement support to families experiencing perinatal and infant death.

More to the Story (continued)

Share recently launched a "Notes of Hope" campaign encouraging all bereaved parents, grandparents, siblings, family/friends and professionals to write a love note or poem to their sweet baby or babies, and all babies that have gone far too soon. The National Share Office invites you to share this with your chapters and make sure they are aware of this opportunity to have such a beautiful note visibly captured. Share's intention is to create a beautiful keepsake journal that will be published digitally in October, during Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. We encourage all love letters/poems to be received by email (jnikodym@nationalshare.org) or by mail (National Share, 402 Jackson, St. Charles, MO 63301) by May 30, 2015. Please continue to spread the message of hope.

Notes of Hope: Letters to your Babies

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A Father’s Perspective By: John Stuart, Daddy to Kieran My story is probably no different than anyone reading this newsletter. Our only child, Kieran, was born premature and only saw one sunrise. There were many hopes and dreams that went with his passing. He was our only successful conception in over 4 years of trying. So when we were originally informed of our good fortune, much of our life during those 22 weeks was focused on his arrival and preparing for our new future. How people experience their grief and how they cope is as different as snowflakes. The losses we experience are very personal and often difficult to quantify. I was devastated by the prospect of not seeing him every day and not being able to watch him interact with the world. For the first several months, I coped by immersing myself in other distractions and withdrew from all of life's optional dealings. I lost the ability to focus on all but the simplest, singular tasks. And it hurt to experience most any emotion, good and bad.

Father's Day was just 17 weeks after Kieran's birth. As it approached, I was keenly aware of its meaning and that I was now among the honored. This was not how I envisioned joining the ranks and I felt uncomfortable. This was compounded by wanting to acknowledge my own father. My child could not do the same for me. It's difficult to express how I came to grips with my emotions. I felt sorry for myself and I knew that was destructive. I needed to alter my perspective. I realized that the honor of being a father was not an external acknowledgment but in my own, internal perception. I am happy to have a son. Although he was not physically with me on Father's Day, he was with me in spirit, as he continues to be. The world doesn't have to acknowledge that I love my son, because he knows and I know. My wife also knows, and loves our son and me. We managed to make it through Mother's and Father's Days because we respect that the world is

full of complex emotional triggers and these holidays are very big triggers. Our reactions to the triggers are usually different, but we're able to look beyond the reaction and see the underlying response as emotions of love and loss. Outward expression of these emotions can be manifested in negative ways. But we remember that what the other person is reacting to is valid even if the reaction seems irrational. We need to vent our emotions even if the emotional release is misdirected. There are many holidays on the calendar that are intended to cause you to pause and consider how a particular group of people has affected your life. For me, Father's Day has taken on multiple facets. I think about my son, for without him, I would not be a father. I think about my wife, for without her, I could not have a son. And about my parents, for without them I would not know what it means to be a parent. I love and am grateful for all of them.

A Mother’s Perspective By: Suzanne Phillips, Mommy to Kieran

Mother's Day has been a hard, complicated day for me for many years. It's the annual reminder that, “I don't belong in the mommy club.” My husband and I struggled a long time to become parents, only to lose our precious boy. Although I am Kieran's mommy, because he lived so briefly, my “mommy credits” fall short. I feel left out of the club when I see other mothers and babies – in the park, coffee shop or congregation. I know first-hand about sleepless nights, but I don't have stories of Kieran's firsts: the first time he held his head up on his own, rolled over, pulled himself up, crawled, teethed, babbled or stepped. It's hard for other mommies to listen to my baby's short story. He's not wiggling around, demanding attention.

For a long time, I avoided Mother's Day. I avoided the saccharin cards, speakers and mother-daughter banquets which celebrated motherhood. Then my husband and I began to do something special that weekend without it being “mother” or “father” focused. We have gone camping, picnicked at an outdoor jazz festival, and attended local arts festivals. For me, camping has been the most successful because most families don't camp in May. It's easy to enjoy nature with our dogs as we set up camp, hike and are buzzed by local hummingbirds. Mother's Day in 2007, the first without Kieran, friends invited us to go sailing. The focus was on friendship and catching up. They talked about Kieran.

At the end of the day, they gave me a Mother's Day card – the only one I received. I cherish it as recognition of our friendship and Kieran. There are no Share support groups in our area. However, the local Children's Hospital sponsors an annual Memorial Service for bereaved parents between Mother's and Father's Days. This service is a safe place to openly remember and mourn our babies. We are not isolated. This recognition of our loss validates the pain and grief we feel, particularly when it seems the world celebrates parenthood as only having living children. Whether or not you chose to participate in Mother's or Father's

Page 17 Vo lu me 24 , I s su e 3

Day, I recommend you take steps to care for yourself on that day. It's OK to simply avoid the whole event. It's OK to ask others for what you need. If it feels right, find a moment to remember your baby and honor

yourself as your baby's parent. For these two days, my husband and I each created our own bracelet with Kieran's name, his birthstone and his animal. This creative action honored our child and our new title as parents,

despite other's conflicting opinions of our parental status. In honoring ourselves as parents, we also honor our babies.

A Mother’s Perspective (cont) By: Suzanne Phillips, Mommy to Kieran

My first Mother’s Day was bliss, but it was short lived. That Sunday dawned beautifully sun-ny, and I was somehow surprised when my husband greeted me with a small, wrapped package tied up with a beautiful bow. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he told me with a smile. I was six days past due with our first child, and this was per-haps the first moment when I realized the certainty of this fact: I was, indeed, a mother. The day expanded to include a beauti-ful walk along a river with friends and lunch at a nearby restaurant. After our meal, the waitress gave me a long-stemmed rose, just like the other mothers who were there with their children. My new delicate golden hoop earrings hung from my ears, and my hands rested on the gigantic globe of my belly. I felt so full and so real. I was so proud, and delighted, to be a moth-er. Thirty-six hours later, an ultrasound revealed that my baby had died in the early stages of labor. I still wore the earrings, but at the time that this un-bearable news was delivered to me, I felt like anything but a mother. I was a failure, a disappointment, a farce. This baby whom I had promised to the world: to her father, to my parents, my husband’s parents, our brothers and sisters and friends, was never to come home. Suddenly, it seemed as if the

whole pregnancy had been an act, an amazing drama of a dream that would never come true. When Charlotte was born, some eight hours after learning that she had left us, I pulled her onto my deflated belly and was struck with the sudden and fierce realization that I had been com-pletely wrong in feeling that my moth-erhood had been stolen from me en-tirely. The incredible love that I felt for this little baby, this daughter, swept me off my feet and changed the very essence of who I was. I look at this moment like a door opening: suddenly a secret had been revealed to me, the secret of what it feels like to be a mother. It was the secret of the deep-est, most passionate, protective love I would ever know. During the hours that we spent with Charlotte, I learned with agonizing grief just how deep a mother’s love can be. The weeks, months, and early years that followed would prove to be most challenging I would ever experience. The power of my love for my little daughter had been translated into a grief I could barely comprehend. My body yearned for her in a way that re-minded me that humans, like any mammal we wonder over, have biolog-ical instincts to care for their young. I felt like an animal, an animal mother, confused and bewildered and desper-ate for the child I was supposed to be spending every moment of every day with.

One year later, Mother’s Day dawned again, a beautiful morning. This time, there was no gift, although the ear-rings were still in my ears. I had never taken them out. My heart was still broken, but in my arms lay a tiny, newborn boy: Charlotte’s legacy, our son Liam. Although the pregnancy had been laden with fear and anxiety, once he fell into my arms I let biology take over. I had felt it in my bones: my longing for Charlotte had taught me that I was a mother, in my heart, and my body. I had everything inside of me that I needed to care for and love this little boy and keep him safe. And that year, as I have every year since then, I reflected on Mother’s Day on the one, pure moment of joy I had experienced before my perfect story had come crashing down. I will always cherish that first Mother’s Day, and the innocent memories of hope and delight that were unblemished by the pain of loss. However, on the same token, I also always take the time in May to remember how my first little daughter gave me the confidence I needed to be a strong, proud mother to the four children who have followed her. I doubt there has been an hour of my mothering life that has not been affected somehow by her short pres-ence in our life. I am, and always will be, proud to be her mother. I am grateful that I will always have that memory of a beautiful, joyful Mother’s Day spent together.

My First Mother’s Day By: Carol McMurrich

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Share thanks those who have so graciously given these monetary donations in memory of a baby, relative, friend, and in

honor of all loved ones and through Matching Gift Programs. Gratuitous donations are also accepted from anyone who

wants to help Share in its mission. We gratefully acknowledge these gifts, which help us continue to reach out and fulfill

the daily needs of bereaved parents. Share’s services are available free of charge to bereaved parents, family and friends,

or anyone whose life has been touched by the loss of baby.

When you make a donation in memory of a loved baby, please include the name of the baby or babies, the birth or death

date(s) and the parent’s name(s). If you donate in memory or honor of a special loved one, please include their name(s)

and pertinent information. A short message may also be included with any donation.

Share’s mission is to serve those who are touched by the tragic death of a baby through early pregnancy loss, stillbirth or

in the first few months of life.

Six times a year, we share information and ideas from parents and professionals to support and provide a sense of

friendship for bereaved parents. We hope you will find this magazine helpful and that you will share it with others you

feel it would interest.

We encourage you to send your personal articles, stories, poems, artwork and recipes to our magazine at any time.

Please do not submit copied, copyrighted, or web articles. The Magazine Editor reserves the right to edit your personal

submission for content and/or length to fit the needs of the particular magazine edition in which it will appear. Your

submission may be used for the current magazine, or may be used in a future publication. All submissions become the

property of Share.

Please include all pertinent personal information so we may identify you and your baby/ies in the respective publication.

Your submission grants Share permission to list your personal information with the publication unless instructed

otherwise.

Magazine Submission Guidelines:

1. Please provide title, authors’ name and applicable loss information for article submissions. If donating monetarily in

memory of a baby, please provide loss information, including the parent’s name(s).

2. Submissions must be received no later than the 1st of the month, one month prior to issue month. If you are making

a donation and would like to be recognized, or honor a birthday or anniversary, in the most recent edition of the

magazine, then it, must be received by the 10th of the month, two months prior to the publication.

3. Please type your submissions in single spaced, 10 point, Times New Roman or Arial font when possible.

4. Submissions can be mailed to 402 Jackson, St. Charles, MO 63301, e-mailed to rcarlson@nationalshare.org or faxed

to the National Share Office at 636-947-7486.

Sharing Magazine Information:

Sharing Magazine is published by Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support, Inc. If you would like to reprint articles/submissions from Sharing please properly cite Share and the writer by stating the name of the organization, website, magazine, volume, issue, and author in your acknowledgements. If you would like to reprint an article/ submission that is copyrighted by an author or a publishing company, you must obtain permission from the copyright holder to reprint. Email questions to rcarlson@nationalshare.org.

Would you like to be removed from

mailing lists?

To remove bereaved parents’ names from mailing lists you can visit

http://www.privacyrights.org/fs/fs4-junk.htm#MPS

-OR- Send a letter plus a $1 check or money order to:

Mail Preference Service Direct Marketing Association

PO Box 643 Carmel, NY 10512

The Mission

With Gratitude

Page 19 Vo lu me 24 , I s su e 3

Upcoming Issues of

Sharing

Magazine

July/August 2015 Connecting With Nature

Often, grieving parents find

comfort and strength in connecting with nature after

their baby dies as doing so can serve as a reminder of the circle of life. Have you created a quiet outdoor retreat in your garden or dedicated a tree in a park or

other public place? Do you enjoy an outdoor activity such

as such as hiking, camping, kayaking, etc. that soothes

your soul? Or do you have a special outdoor place you enjoy going to reflect and calm your

mind? If any of these activities, or others, have given you a sense of peace, renewal and

hope anytime throughout your grief journey, we want to share

your stories, photographs, poems and/or other artwork in

this issue. Deadline for materials:

June 15, 2015

Submit your stories, poems and artwork to

rcarlson@nationalshare.org

Connect on Facebook

Search: Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support

Share offers several social communities in addition to

support groups. Search: Share Bereaved Families Peer Support for

general bereavement or Share Subsequent Pregnancy Peer Support if

you are currently pregnant or are planning to become pregnant

following the death of a baby. Please note that these are closed groups

and membership must be approved by an administrator.

Get the magazine delivered directly to your inbox!

In an effort to reduce our carbon footprint, we have

decided to make the magazine available online. If you

would like to receive a copy via email, we would be

happy to add you to our mailing list. Visit

www.nationalshare.org then click ‘Subscribe’ in the

top right corner!

Find a Share Chapter Near You!

For a full list of all Share Chapters across the country, please visit

http://www.nationalshare.org/heal/sharechapters/

Need Resources? Shop on Share’s online store for books, gifts, memorial keepsakes and much more! https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/share/giftstore.jsp

Follow Share on Pinterest for ideas and information

on memory making, jewelry, grief support resources,

books, holiday traditions and so much more!

Read our most current blog posts at www.nationalshare.blogspot.com

Stay connected

on Twitter!

@Share1977

We continue to expand our video library on YouTube.

Watch What’s Happening!

Page 20 Vo lu me 24 , I s su e 3

Angel Ball 2015: Wonderful Evening, Powerful Mission

On Saturday April 25, 2015, several

hundred friends and supporters of

Share celebrated “April in Paris” at the

13th annual Angel Ball in St. Louis,

MO. It was a delightful evening full of

fabulous company, dancing, delicious

food, an abundance of generously

donated silent and live auction items,

raffles, creative baskets, jewelry, beach

and mountain vacations, sports tickets

and so much more! While the final

dollar amount raised for Share is not

yet determined, it was great fun, and

all monies will go toward the

continuation of programs ensuring

that bereaved families will continue to

receive top-notch care. Share

Ambassadors, who raised money for

Share throughout the year, were

honored along with awardees Jennifer

Tharp, Volunteer of the Year,

Debbie Toney, Faithful Service,

Pitman Funeral Home, Community

Leader and Lisa Zorn, RN,

Distinguished Caregiver.

Share would like to extend a warm

thank you to the 2015 Angel Ball

Committee members: Emily Sill,

Chair; Rose Carlson, Miranda Coker,

Michelle Foster, Jennifer Haake, Cathi

Lammert, Erin Shulan and Karen Zerr.

Merci to all who helped make the

2015 Angel Ball a success!

Julie and Bryan Belter

Ryan and Caitlin Bromberger

Rose Carlson

Jennifer Cirello

Citi Mortgage

Debbie and Jim Cochran

Julia and Brian Henry

Michelle and Tom Koerner

Andrea and Adam Kroll

Michael and Nora LaFata

Cassie and Mitch McMillen

Megan and Jason Rowekamp

Janet and Mark Schneider

Tricia and Tim Souers

St. Charles Mayor’s Golf

Tournament

Melissa and Gary Wellman

Shannon and Bill Willhite

Karen and Jack Zerr