My Story of Dealing with the Death of My Child

No Parent should ever have to go through this, I don't care who they are! There is nothing worst then carrying your child, caring for it, loving it and already dreaming of its future only to have it ripped away from you. The Pain of losing once child is so incomprehensible by someone that has not experienced it that there are no words to describe it. I have tried several times to describe the feeling of loss and despair that followed the death of my Baby Girl from SID, but I don't think I have ever managed to completely convey it to an outsider.

Consider this, it has taken almost 20 Years for me to be able to speak and write about this subject without falling to pieces and that is coming from a woman that does not fear death.

Here is my Story: My daughter was born July 6^th 1987 in a hospital in Aschaffenburg Germany. She was a beautiful little girl of 6 lbs 7 oz. Not bad for a 17 Year old Girl to have given birth to. The delivery was a difficult one and at one point had cost me my life. I was declared clinically dead right after the delivery, but as you see I have come back to the living. That however is a completely different story and may be told another time. She was completely healthy, had all her beautiful little toes and her dainty little fingers. Her eyes were blue and her hair no more then downy fuss. She was a little angel brought down to me to love and protect. Like all new mothers I was overprotective and at times down right clingy. After all she was my life's treasure. Yes, even at that young age, I was a natural born mother, something I retained up until now. I can not understand how people can kill their children, give them away or abandon them. I myself was such a child of a woman that had no love nor regard for me and gave me away like a lump of coal at age 6 weeks, but that too is another story for another time.
As you can see, my mind still tries to veer off, tries to sidetrack me and is reluctant to go back to that day, even so I have completed my healing process.
My daughters Name was Andrea Doris. She had a quick smile that would melt any heart and she was a sociable Baby with bright eyes and a loving demeanor. She was all in all a good Baby, with very little trouble. Not that she had much time to give me trouble in.

Andrea Doris died December 21^st 2007 during her sleep. The last time I saw her was at 2 am in the morning while I was holding her and feeding her. I was playing with her, tickling her little belly and blowing little air puffs on the belly button. I bet you did that to your babies too. When by 8 am, I still did not hear her little mewing sounds I was driven to her crib. Something made me fear, I had no cause to and yet.... When I first entered her Nursery I saw nothing wrong. Her face was turned towards the wall and her body was covered by the little blanket like it should have been. I remember walking fully into the room and play calling her like I have always done. "Anderle, Anderle, Mommy is going to get you! I am going to get you!" as I reached out to her I saw her face. It had that slightly off color that freshly dead people get and she wasn't breathing. I pulled her out of the bed and started screaming. I tried to give her CPR, but nothing happened. My then boyfriend came into the room and I handed the Baby to him. "Here, help me; I have to call an ambulance." He was a soldier and trained in CPR, he took over. I ran to the phone just to discover that it wasn't working. In a black silk PJ I ran in the snow from house to house screaming for someone to open the door or call the cops, the ambulance anyone that could help me. Finally someone responded, it may only have been moments, but to me it seemed an eternity. I rushed back to the house and held my Baby, breathing into her. The ambulance was there within moments and as I handed her over to the Medic my life fell apart. I knew she was dead. I knew she had left me. I knew and I wanted to quit breathing. When the Medic came out to me, I only said: "I already know, but why? What had I done wrong?" I am not sure what empty words were said to me, nor did I hear the words of condolences from my neighbors. The Police came as they must in such a case and asked me endless questions. They asked my Neighbors what kind of mother I was. How I treated my child etc. It didn't take long before I knew the name of my Childs Killer. They called it S.I.D. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. She had forgotten to breathe in her sleep - that was the explanation I gotten. I went like a Zombie through the arrangements for her funeral and the day she was buried they had to hold me back so I would not jump in the open grave after her.

Dealing with the feeling of Guilt

Like me thousands of mothers and fathers did not cause the death of their child, but just like me they go through feelings of guilt. For me it was instantly and irrationally. It ranged all the way from: "I should have stayed dead after the delivery" to "I should have stayed awake and watched her all night." Neither thought was reasonable, but in that phase of grief it seldom is. I was so far into Guilt that I could not even go outside and have people look at me without imagining that if they would have been my daughters parents she would still be alive. "If only...." Those Words came up constantly. I was driving myself insane with that phrase.

From blaming yourself to blaming others.

I did that too, right along with blaming my-self, I also blamed my Boyfriend. If he had not been at my house that night, then perhaps I would have spend the night watching over my kid. Maybe that was my punishment for sharing my time with someone else. What if he had secretly wanted her dead? What if he had hated her and I had not noticed? What if....? Again the "what if's" and all of them one as stupid as the next.

Inward Changes and Outward Changes.
Those were almost instant. My hair started turning gray and I wanted everyone to go away. I no longer wanted anyone to hold me. I was convinced that I would somehow hurt them if they came close to me. I no could no longer look at other Babies. Watching a young mother with her child was torture. I would break down in tears. One of the things which took me several years to get over was the fact that she had died so close to Christmas. I remember having bought her a little stuffy in the form of a cute baby seal. She had reached for it and I had not given it to her. I had hidden it away from her. She ended up getting buried with her baby seal and I was convinced that if only I had given it to her, she would not have forgotten to breath.

Being angry at the dead Child.

Just as unreasonable but never the less normal. Once I had gone through felling guilty, blaming others, I started getting angry at her. After all how could she leave me? What was wrong with her anyway, how could you forget to breath? I mean, did that not come naturally? Was I that bad of a mother that she had to go and kill herself? I even went to the grave and demanded she would come back.

Utter and complete emptiness.

Once the anger went away, I was left with nothing. It was as if everything has been sucked out of me. I felt no heat, no cold, no pain, and no joy. Nothing! I was empty. I swear up until today, that if you would have cut me, no blood would have flown out of me.

Forcing your-self to talk about it.

Sooner or later you have to talk about it. You know you can no longer hold it inside. You want to scream, rant and rave. You want to cry until no Tears are left. You can not handle the loss anymore and you swear that you will never love another human being ever again. When I finally started talking about it to friends and a so called counselor I could not shut up. It was all I wanted to talk about. It was as if by talking about her, I could bring her back. I could keep her alive inside of me. During those days I would swear that it had all been a very bad dream or a bad joke. I would swear I heard her in her room. Would see her trying to crawl on the floor. It was if I was slowing going insane.

Trying to replace the emptiness.

I was married to my boyfriend in 1988 and I got pregnant during our wedding night. At first I was elated. I was happy. I would have another baby. Then something strange happened. I was getting petrified. What if this baby would die too? What if I could not be a good mother? What if .....? Yes, it was back to the "what if's."

Diana Victoria was born here in the USA on May 16^th 1989 and I once again could hold a beautiful Baby Girl. Since her Sister had died of SID, they put her on one of those Breathing Monitors you have to hook her up to when you can not sit and watch her. The thing had a defect and it would go off constantly. I would go insane. I would run to the crib and finally just sit there hour after hour with my hand on her chest. Watching and feeling her breath. Something else had happened however, I was scared to hold her. Scared to love her completely, thinking that if I would give my heart to her all the way she too would die. She would notice my fear, feel it like a baby can and cry every time I would pick her up. That of course would cause me to feel that she didn't want me and once again I felt abandoned. I learned very quickly that you can not replace the emptiness; you can not fill it with another child. Each has there special place.

Being afraid you would forget...
Every 21^st of December I would almost fall apart. I would lock myself into my room, light a candle and cry until I was exhausted. It was about 7 Years and 3 children later (Diana was joined by Regina JR. / IMP on February 24^th 1991 and Alexander on December 16^th 1992), before the pain finally became dull. Before that Time, every time I was starting to feel better and would go through long periods of not thinking of her, pretty much almost all year long I would almost force myself to think of her. Christmas time was horrible for me. I would go Christmas Gift shopping and every year I would pick up gifts for all 4 of my Children. I wouldn't even notice until I went to the register and in some cases home before I would realize what I had done. Having to take it back was difficult, but in a way it helped. I still could not look at stuffed baby seals without falling apart. Every time I would start feeling a little less pain, I would subconsciously do something that would tear the pain wide open again. I was afraid I would forget her. Then came the day I could not longer remember her face. I had lost all my photos when I came to the USA. She was only in my mind now and after almost 8 years it was slipping away. I felt like the worst human being on the face of the earth. How could I forget the face of my little Angel?

Allowing your-self to heal

It is a long and hard process of grieving and healing. My kids grew up on stories about their big baby sister. They knew her as well as I did and they ended up telling me every year. "Mom, Andrea is dead, put it back!" I watched them hurt every time I would fall apart crying around Christmas and her birthday. One year my youngest asked me: "Mommy, why are we not enough for you? Why do you have to cry so hard for baby sissy?" It was like a slap in the face. What had I done to my little Monsters? I didn't love them any less, but somehow I had started having them for granted and like any Human I yearned for what I could no longer have. I promised myself that day, that I would let myself heal. Not until I had made the decision to allow the healing to start, did it actually begin.

Healing measures

Strangely enough, I began to fully heal the year I separated from my husband. The men I am married to today and the one I can truly say is my soul mate, strangely enough had also lost a Baby to SID at a very young age. Maybe it was this Understanding that made it easier for me. I started purchasing those items and then donated them to the "Angel Tree". I started searching for the Stuffed Baby Seal and at one point purchased it. I kept it for a while and then gave it away to a mother with a new born baby that had money problems. I lit my last remembrance candle on her death day in 2003. Instead of talking about her, I started talking to her on her death day. Instead of telling my kids all about her, I started telling "her" all about her siblings. Instead of grieving about her death, I started to remember and celebrate her life.

Having come to terms

I knew I had finally come to terms and had healed when I was able to talk to others about the loss of a child. I started "counseling" young mothers that had been in my situations. I could listen to their stories and help them express what was in them without being judgmental. My finally victory came when I decided to make the worst day of my life into the happiest day of my life.
My now husband had put me in charge of making all the wedding arrangements, including setting the wedding date. I set the Date, you guessed it, on Dec 21^st 2005. The day my Baby had been dead for exactly 18Years.

Final Note

Everybody grieves differently. Some of us refuse to grief at all. There is no right and no wrong way. However, if you need help, please don't try to go it alone. There are many folks out there that went through what you went through. When they say, I understand, they actually do. Don't try to let it eat you up and do give yourself permission to heal. I promise you, you will never forget your child. The memory may fade and you may forget what the child looked like if you don't have a photo too remind you, but that is normal with time. Don't beat yourself up over it. Remember the good things, instead of dwelling on the bad. Healing takes time. For some folks longer then others. Women seem to deal with it harder then man. That is survival for both Genders; please don't harass one another over it. Celebrate your Babies life not dwell on his/her death. I promise you, he/she would not have wanted that. Your Baby loved you!!!