Tag Archives: stillborn

Being Seen.

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I never knew four weeks could feel like forty years at one second, then only seem like one day a second later. It’s been twenty-eight days since Jensen has been gone. Some mornings I wonder if I woke up from the nightmare and other mornings it’s like getting slapped in the face. Today was a slap in the face; just as physical slaps in the face, it stings afterwards.

Today was overwhelming for me. I’m grief stricken and felt anger, sadness, helplessness, guilty, and vulnerability. All those in one day are hard to handle. Yet, I’m still here. I feel Jensen near my heart and see his little ultrasound pictures smiling at me. Reminding me he’s here watching over his momma, now and always.

He will always see me as a mother, which leads to Day Three.

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In what ways have others seen and acknowledged your motherhood?
How do you see yourself as a mother?
In what ways is your motherhood visible?

Most of the time (like 99%) I see myself as a mother. I know I’ll always be Jensen’s mom. He was made of me, I delivered him, and love him. Since he’s not here physically, I can’t be the traditional mom I wanted to be. I see myself as mother now by saying Jensen’s name, writing about him, and sharing our experience. There’s still a bond between us even though Jensen is in heaven, a mother’s love is unbreakable. Not only emotionally do I feel like a mother, but physically. I see the stretch marks, my face changing, and my body still feels like I should be nurturing a newborn. Today, it hurts as I’m typing this. My body tells me I should have my baby here and my brain knows he’s not here physically to be nurtured. Today is hard to be seen as a mother.

I feel like all moms have times where they think they’re not doing their best. Worries that their baby isn’t sleeping enough, growing as big as they should be, or not hitting all their milestones. Moms worry about their babies. I worry about him being in heaven. I worry he sees my guilt. I worry that he feels my sadness. I worry I can’t show him I love him enough. So I guess in that way I see myself as a mother.

To others, I think it is hard for them to see a mom without a living child as moms; not that they discredit me and others as mothers. If I go out to lunch or dinner for Mother’s Day on Sunday, will someone tell me “Happy Mother’s Day” with a big smile? I get support from my friends and family, they speak Jensen’s name and listen to my worries. Comments on my blog let people say how much love I have for Jensen and how proud he is of me. That makes me smile and feel like I’m doing a good job in this journey of motherhood.

Then I question myself…
Does Anthony see himself as a father? Do my parents see themselves as grandparents? Does my brother see himself as an uncle? Am I really seen as a mother?

That’s how bad my grief makes me question myself and others.

Then I question… Does Jensen see me as his mother?

That answer is yes.
I see Anthony as a father. I see my parents as grandparents. I see my brother as an uncle. I see myself as a mother.

My motherhood is visible to others because I let it be. For other people, I won’t let them question if I am or not. I share my love for Jensen and I’ll tell anyone his story. For ten months I carried him, cared for him, and made sure he was one happy little boy.

The pure existence of my son makes me a mother. Everyday I’m proud of that.

Motherhood Reimagined.

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When I found out Jensen was a boy, I was overjoyed. I imagined him playing football, getting dirty, and playing rough outside. At my house, I planned on getting a big window in the back door so I could look outback to watch him play in the mud. I pictured us sitting outside together looking at the stars. When he was older, running in and out of the back door and eventually sneaking in and out. Those are just some of the dreams I had for him, with just the backyard. I would be his number one cheerleader, nurse, and above all his mother.

With all my dreams for him, I imagined me being the best momma for him. Whatever he needed me to be, I would. Of course, he would be made to listen and respect his parents and everyone else. Imagining his journey through infancy to adulthood, I also imagined myself as a mother growing with his needs. When I lost Jensen, I lost all my dreams for him and the biggest part of myself. I lost him, made of me, and I lost a certain identity I had for myself for the past ten months.

Which brings me to Day Two of this ten-day journey…

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In what ways are you still the mother you thought you’d be?
In what ways does she still live on?

Today marks 27 days since Jensen was born and 27 days since he’s been gone. I never imagined losing him or imagined this is the journey my motherhood with lead me to. Four weeks with a baby means sleepless nights, countless diapers, and endless love. Motherhood with a newborn baby is messy. I imagined myself with the messiness right now and knowing the messiness would lead to a dramatic toddler and then a curious child and then a know-it-all teenager to adulthood. Instead, motherhood after a baby born asleep includes sleepless nights, countless tissues, and endless love; some the same, mostly different. My sleepless nights include countless tissues. I’m up wondering why, crying, and just remembering my Jensen. Some nights are harder than others and I know there will be good nights and horrible nights in my future. I’ve went through so many boxes of tissues. There are times when there are constant flows of tears and there’s other where I have to share tissues with those around me when I’m talking about Jensen. But there is never a lack of love I have for him. It is an endless love as I know all mothers have for their child. It’s the love my mother had for me growing up till now.

As I ponder on today’s questions I have to remember what I imagined before the unthinkable and compare them with my thoughts now. The reoccurring theme in both is love.

When I wake up each morning and am talking to Jensen, I could easily just stay in bed each day. I don’t. I think and often say out loud, Jensen wouldn’t me like this. He wouldn’t want me to give up on all my dreams and hopes. He wouldn’t want me to be laying in bed all day. He wants me to have that big, windowed backdoor. He wants me to grow as a mother for him. He doesn’t need me to care for him as a mom would care for a newborn. He still needs the love, but he needs to see me growing. All of these dreams, all of this grief, all of Jensen was made from love. Him and it is my motivation to get out of bed every morning. To go get that big, windowed back door. To grow and explore in this new type of motherhood. Most importantly, to keep loving him and letting everyone know how loved my Jensen is.

It’s our love for each other that makes me the mother I’d always had imagined myself being.

Jensen Grey

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Pregnant.

One word can change two people’s lives forever. What better way for a mother-to-be to spend her birthday than knowing in nine short months she would have her bundle of joy.  As soon as this baby’s parents found out, they were overjoyed of course and quickly agreed to a baby boy’s name: Jensen Grey. The baby’s mom knew the baby was a boy before the doctor even told them. They dreamed of holding him, kissing him, and watching him grow. Their dreams for their perfect family had already began to unfold.

The mom-to-be ate healthy, took the prenatal vitamins, and went to every doctor appointment. At 17 weeks, they went for the anatomy scan. The BIG appointment; where you found out if you should be painting pink or blue. The baby’s mom already knew she should be painting blue, but this would confirm everything. Baby was not shy and showed everyone in the room that, in fact, he was a boy. Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa were all so happy to know they would have their Jensen Grey.

But Mom and Dad got more news than they would have liked. Instead of leaving the doctor’s office ecstatic they were their Jensen, they left scared. Baby Jensen was at increased percentage for Down syndrome. Mom and Dad were told all the bad things that revolved around Down syndrome. They didn’t let this bother them for too long; instead they researched and saw all the positives. The doctors still let them know the risks and even the increased risk of baby Jensen being stillborn. Mom didn’t think that was even possible.

Jensen thrived through all the ultrasounds. He moved when he was supposed to, stuck out his tongue for mom, and even practiced his breathing so perfectly. While Jensen was growing and getting strong inside his mommy’s belly, she got everything ready on the outside. She painted his nursery, bought everything he needed, and had a big baby shower to celebrate his life. Everything in life was going just as perfect as they planned. Their Baby J would be home so very soon.

On April 4, 2016, Mom and Dad went to go check up on Jensen to see how close he was to being born. Mom was 38 weeks with swollen feet and just ready to meet her little man. Everything about this day seemed to go normally, but they would soon find out it was not a normal day. Mom laid down for the ultrasound ready to hear the galloping heartbeat, but there was silence. The doctor was called into the room and they hurriedly looked at the ultrasound screen in frowns.

“I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat.”

One phrase can change two people’s lives forever.

Baby Jensen Grey was born asleep on April 5, 2016 at 4:25 in the morning. He was absolutely perfect weighing 7 pound 1 ounce and 19 3/4 inches long. Jensen shocked his mommy and daddy with blond hair, since they had dark hair. Baby was cleaned up and dressed, then nurse Angie took pictures for his mommy and daddy to always have. Later that night his mommy was sent back home to recover for the rest of the time. Although Jensen didn’t physically go home with him mommy and daddy, he now is always with them in their hearts.

This 48 hours was all a blur to Jensen’s mommy. At first she couldn’t remember it all, but it slowly comes back to her with each day. The fuzzy, grim phrase the doctor told them now screams in her ears. The empty belly aches of his loss. Her heart breaks more and more with every beat, wishing Jensen’s was beating more. After losing him, she is stuck in a tornado of grief only trying to remember the happy ultrasounds, Jensen’s hiccups, and her dreams for her baby.

My Jensen’s time here was short, but was filled with love. I remember his kicks when he got chocolate milk, turning his head for an ultrasound picture, and rolling to listen to his daddy read him stories before bed. His loss is unfathomable, no words can describe what it’s like without him. Jensen was my whole entire world.

As his mother, I know I have to go through this grief for Jensen. He only knew me as a happy person that would do anything for him. To keep his memory alive, I have decided to do a few things. First, to create this blog to cope with my grief. Writing has always been therapeutic for me and some of this process I think would be able to help other Mother’s of angel babies. Secondly, to help educate other’s on stillbirths and other topics of pregnancy and infant loss. I know I’m not an expert, but I am learning slowly and want to share what I am learning. It is important for other’s to know more of these topics since it’s usually never talked about and should be. Lastly, I want to take part in Random Acts of Kindness in Jensen Grey’s name. It is important to keep his memory alive in a positive way that’s inspired by ours and his love for each other.

I hope you follow me throughout my grieving process, participate in Random Acts of Kindness in Jensen’s name, and share his story. It’s a hard journey ahead, but my love for my Baby J gets me through today. I only hope that I am making him smile as he watches me from above.