Loving
Emerson Elizabeth Mae
There are some topics that are commonly discussed in society, and then there are others that are still seemingly taboo. Stillbirth is one such topic that people just don't talk about and this 'not talking about it' makes it that much harder for grieving families. As we went through our stillbirth journey, we would struggle to find materials designed to support families like ours and, every time we did find something, it always referenced how hard it was for that author to find anything to support them and that is why they wrote it.
Stillbirth statistics are about 1 in 160 babies are stillborn. This is not an insignificant number. Miscarriages and early pregnancy loss are a staggering 1 in 4. There seems to be shame associated with this very personal pain. But the numbers tell us that we are not alone and that we should not feel shame. We should support each other, tell our stories and grieve openly. This is Emerson's story.
We'd like to tell you her story...
The first rule about fight club is you don’t talk about fight club.
We find ourselves a part of the most unwanted ‘fight club’ there is, the reality of which is impossible to escape and exhausting to live with. One we never wanted to join and wish we could course-correct. But I need to talk about it, so I’m breaking the rules.
We are the 1 out of 160 whose child was lost to stillbirth. Our beautiful Emerson Elizabeth Mae was born on March 19, 2021, one day before her official due date, and she will never receive a birth certificate.
To say we are heartbroken is an understatement. Our sweet girl will never get to grow up and live all the hopes and dreams we had for her. Every day there is something that makes me cry, something that should have been our ‘first’ with Emerson. First family dinner, first hike, first everything. We miss her all the time.
Emerson was the result of much wishing, prayer, and a miracle of modern science. An IVF baby, she was our only egg that fertilized on our second IVF round. She was our only chance. This future child of ours was wanted and loved before we even knew she had ‘stuck’ and we were pregnant.
She was Emerson before we even knew she was a girl. Emerson was my maternal grandfather’s middle name and the name we had chosen for our baby, whether boy or girl. She became Emerson Elizabeth Mae after we found out she was a girl at our 20 week ultrasound. Elizabeth after Shawn’s paternal grandmother’s middle name and Mae after my maternal grandmother’s middle name. I believe that Emerson is playing in heaven with these maternal grandparents Eugene Emerson and Donna Mae. I believe they are giving her lots of snuggles and taking care of her for us.
We had a blessedly uncomplicated pregnancy with no concerns whatsoever and very mild symptoms. Emerson was a very chill baby and didn’t move around a whole lot. She would go hours with little to no movement. This made her quietness on March 17th rather unremarkable...until mid-afternoon when she still hadn’t been moving all day. We went to the hospital and were told that our precious girl no longer had a heartbeat.
On the morning of March 18th we started the induction process. A process that was all pain and no gain. No baby to take home at the end of it. Emerson Elizabeth Mae was born on March 19, 2021 at 9:47pm. She was 7 lbs 10 oz and a shocking 23” long. She had a good amount of hair on her head, the cutest little button nose, a dimple in her chin and HUGE feet.
We got to spend 40 hours with her at the hospital. Time to hold her cold, purple body and try to say goodbye to her and all the dreams we’d had for her. 40 hours was a blessing that not all families get, but I still ache for more time and wish I’d cuddled her more. 40 hours is not enough when you had a lifetime planned.
We have received an outpouring of support from family and friends. Food, cards, gifts and flowers have arrived. We’ve spent time with close friends, sharing our story. We’ve been prayed over and prayed for. Shawn and I even escaped to the Caribbean for a week away to heal and focus on each other. We are slowly returning to life, to work, to our ‘new’ version of self.
We may seem fine, but know that we will never be ‘fine.’ This sadness will always be there. It is not something that you just ‘get over.’ We will always remember her, love her, miss her.
Please know that there is nothing you can say that will make this easier. Just let us know that you are here for us. Let us know that you will miss Emerson too and that she will not be forgotten.
We love you baby girl.
There is no word for when a parent loses a child...
When a spouse loses a partner, we call them a widow. When a child loses a parent, we call them an orphan. There is no word for a parent when they lose a child. And in some ways, that sums it up exactly.
When we were told that Emerson didn’t have a heartbeat, our grief was beyond anything I could ever describe. There were days where the grief was so intense that we struggled to get out of bed. And then there were days where it sneaks up out of nowhere. Last Thursday, I saw a parent giggling and playing with their infant at Target. I just stood there. There have been other times that I saw babies and been completely fine. That time was different. I was unable to move and tears were welling up. I was about to start crying in the Men’s department in the middle of Target! I was able to pull myself together after Shawna hugged me. Emerson’s grief will always be with us. Grief is love persevering.
We miss Emerson so much. As a family, we talk about her quite a bit. Thinking of what she would have looked liked as she got older. Wanting to teach her to ride a bike or read books with her. The most important thing is that we don’t want her name to be taboo, feel awkward or forgotten. She is our daughter. Two children here and one in heaven. And while we are devastated with her loss, we are trying to find the gifts that she gives us. Moments like her memorial service, bringing families and friends together, is a gift. Having devotions with the kids to learn more about heaven is a gift. We miss her so incredibly much.
We took the door off the hinges...
At first we had all spent time in Emerson’s room. It was my favorite space in the house. It was the only room that I had designed literally top to bottom. Every part of it was filled with love. But somewhere along the way, life went on. We returned to work and things got busy again. The nursery sat idle, it no longer had a ‘purpose’ without Emerson.
So, we took the door off the hinges. Emerson’s space is now open, visible. It is a bit more a part of our everyday with this change and has a semblance of life breathed into it - even though it’s not hers. It helps some, it really does. Walking by it everyday forces your mind to return to Emerson. Yes, sometimes it is easier to get through a day without thinking about her too hard. But, spending time in that pain - hard as it can be to do - is what really allows healing.
Today is nine months. Today is 21 weeks.
These facts are at odds with each other and bring a warring of emotions. It’s been nine months since we lost Emerson and our hopes and dreams for that sweet baby girl were wiped away. However, my body is currently sheltering another baby girl, currently at 21 weeks. For her the hopes and dreams come much more tentatively than before. They are laced with an all too real knowledge that things can go terribly awry, even at the last moment. Not all losses are early, or preceded by any sort of warning. Some strike out of nowhere at 39 weeks and 4 days.
This weekend we bought our first outfit for this growing daughter of ours. It is meant to be a ‘take-home’ outfit and, in the store, I broke down crying and saying to Shawn, “what if we don’t get to take her home either?”
Last night, taking in the beautiful lights at Glensheen, I kept wishing we had a nine month Emerson with us. But, to wish this would mean there would be no little girl growing in me either. How do I reconcile this? I already love her too.
Shawn and I were enjoying a Lake Superior sunrise this morning and dreaming up ideas for future vacations and destinations. We started discussing infant-friendly and toddler-friendly ideas. We have been down this exact same path before. Had these same conversations.
I want to be excited and be joyful. I’d love to have back that glorious naïveté of my first pregnancy. This little girl though, I won’t relax till she is alive and well and in my arms. I don’t often get panicky about it. There is not much I can do so I try to practice peace, but the hope is tempered anyways.
Lord, Shawn and I hope and pray deeply that you will grant us this little girl to raise. Emerson is already a big sister, no matter what. I love that. We love them both.
We took Emerson to see Santa Claus
We did a hard thing today. A really hard thing. I knew it would be hard, but I felt like 1) we were meant to do it and 2) we might regret it if we didn’t.
As you might imagine, this was not a very joyous visit. There were boundless tears, lots of Kleenex and massive ‘I’ve been crying’ headaches.
But there was kindness. My fellow humans did not disappoint. The woman behind me in line hugged me and held me tight while Shawn set up the blanket, bunny and book on Santa’s lap. There was a giant hug and comforting words from Santa himself. The cashiers gave us free photos while one of them hugged and prayed for us.
Lastly, the same woman came up to us again and said that we were brave and that “our presence reminded others of the realities of the season.” Perhaps this is why I felt so compelled to go? God guides us in mysterious ways.
I still have a stack of my own photos with Santa. Decked out in a cute, festive dress each year. I hope I will get to do this with our next daughter. For now, I am grateful we have this photo with Emerson.
This has also spurred in me an idea for the future that I hope I will be able to execute in honor of Emerson. Till then, sweet girl, we are thinking of you and lighting your ‘E’ candle nightly.