Grieving is like being stuck on a roller coaster. It can be a long, difficult process, but denying it can prolong your suffering and manifest into physical symptons. The stages of grief are as follows -

     Denial - The feeling of shock and a refusal to believe that you've really lost your baby. You may feel phantom kicks, have aching arms or have nightmares about the baby.

      Anger - You may both go through an intense mood of being angry at yourself, your mate, the whole world. Why has this happened? Why doesn't anyone realize what we are going through?

      Bargaining - You may argue with God or plead for an exchange. My life - if the baby could live! Or promise to change your life for the chance to be with your baby.

      Depression - Once the realization sinks in that the baby is gone and there is nothing you can do about it, depression sets in. This stage is accompanied by all the Whys? Why Nots? and What Ifs. You could experience a wide variety of symptons -
           * Loss of sleep
           * Sleeping too much
           * Loss of appetite
           * Overeating
           * Urges to drink or try drugs
           * Lack of interest in sex
           * Obsessive, compulsive behavior
           * Inability to concentrate
           * Fear for the lives of other loved ones
           * Suicidal thoughts
           * Nightmares

These emotional swings are normal to a certain extent; however, if you feel the need, seek help.

      Acceptance - Eventually, you will come to a point of accepting the death of your child. It will always be something that you wish you could change, but you will find the strength within yourself to help you survive.

These stages of grieving are not clear cut. They can overlap or return in a circular pattern. Certain times of the year or certain events may bring the pain back all over again. Grieving is not like having the flu - you can't completely recover. You simply learn to incorporate the loss into your life and go on.

Not only are we raised in a society that makes grieving difficult, we are in a society that expects men to be strong for the sake of his wife in times of loss. People ask "How is your wife?". No one thinks to ask "How are you?". Dads hurt, too. This baby was a part of him and this loss will change his life forever, just as it will yours.

After such a traumatic experience, many couples believe that they can withstand anything; however, when shock wears off and grief takes over, relationships have been known to crumble. No matter how much you love someone, you cannot walk through their grief for them.

Grieving is a lonely process that each individual must walk through and come out of alone. While you are expecting your partner to comfort and reassure you, your partner may be expecting you to comfort him. Miscommunication about emotions can lead to unneccesary pain and hurt feelings. Try to be open with one another without expecting too much. Your "good" days and "bad" days may conflict with one another, so don't begrudge the other a few moments of happiness.

Men and women are raised differently from the day they are born. We are been conditioned to react differently to the same situations. In grieving, men are less likely to cry and more likely to want to keep busy. Men may also want to go out to have some fun in an attempt to cheer up or make love as a way of showing they care. Women may misinterpret the man's actions and believe he doesn't care, but keep in mind that one can hurt deeply without showing it externally.

Children are very perceptive and can often tell when something is wrong even if they do not fully understand their feelings. Try to be as honest and straightforward as possible with the baby's siblings.

Your approach will depend on the child's age and past experiences, but if they are old enough to know that Mom and Dad were having a baby, they are old enough to realize that, for some reason, the baby is never coming home.

If the child was jealous of the idea of a new baby, he/she may feel that is his/her fault or that he/she wished it to happen, which can lead to extreme guilt. The child needs reassurance that they did not cause this to happen. Their loss of the new brother or sister should be acknowledged. Give them a chance to say "good-bye". If they were not allowed to attend the funeral, allow them to visit the cemetery with you. If they want to go, let them take flowers, a stuffed animal or even balloons to show that they loved the baby, too.

Most of all, be sure that your surviving children know that you still love them and that you don't wish it were them instead of the new baby. Try to help the children understand your concept of where the baby is now, but without giving the impression that where the baby now is, is better than being with your family. There is nothing more terrifying to a newly bereaved parent than to hear a surviving child say that they want to go away to heaven, too.

Try to express your love for them and share your grief. You will be amazed at how well children handle death. They have a way of incorporating it into their lives and coming out of grief much faster than adults. They may even teach you a lesson or two on life and death.

Grandparents suffer a special, double kind of grief. Not only have they lost this grandchild, but they are helpless to ease the pain of their own child. Keep this in mind as you deal with your parents and in-laws. They may hide their grief in an attempt to be strong for you. They may feel that by keeping your house organized or by planning the funeral that they are being as useful as possible.

Like many people around you, you may find your parents unwilling to mention the baby. This can lead to feelings of resentment and conflict later on. If you feel the need to know their feelings about the lost grandchild, ask. They may not have said anything yet for fear of upsetting or reminding you of your loss. If you can't bring yourself to talk face to face, or if they live far away...write a letter or a book you have found helpful.

Your life has just come to a standstill but, somehow, it seems as if no one has noticed. Your neighbors continue to get up each morning and go to work, your friends still go out to eat and to the movies, and your co-workers may act as if you've just had the flu and not a painful loss. In addition to the fact that life goes on for those around you, unfortunately, so do holidays, birthdays, weddings and family gatherings.

It is upsetting to feel as if your family and friends have forgotten your loss or feel that it is insignificant. The people you have always relied on for support may suddenly drop off the face of the earth, or worse yet, may say some very hurtful things in an attempt to be helpful. For example, comments like "You can always have another baby." "At least you have other children." "Maybe you didn't need a baby now." "The baby wasn't normal anyway." or "God knows what's for the best" hurt.

You may find yourself reevaluating your relationships based on how people reacted to your baby's death. In most cases, they are unaware of the pain they have caused. Keep this in mind and try not to hold grudges. After all, until it happened to you, would you have known what to say or do?

When I decided to write this book, I allowed a friend to read my journal. It gave her a new insight into my grief. She then wrote the following letter which I would like to share with you. Perhaps it will help you to understand the people in your own life.

JENNIFER, I felt so special when you came to me and told me you were pregnant. I cried and prayed you would make what I thought was the "right" decision. You did. The problem was that others weren't as excited as I was. I was angry. I wanted you to feel that your baby was wanted and loved. For eight months, I loved you and your baby and dreamed of the part it would have in my life - what I would be to him/her. The day of the baby shower came. I had chosen many gifts for you and your baby. Careful choices with a mixture of practicality and frivolity. The shower was so nice and you looked so pretty. You told us about the enormous amount of kicking. We marvelled at it. The week went on and you prepared for your stay at home. You asked me what I thought about the baby's stillness. You were so close - it had to be almost time. You didn't tell me that you couldn't find a heartbeat. The campus was in a whirl with Homecoming activities. I had so much to do that fateful Thursday that I didn't make it into the theatre until the afternoon. When I walked in, everyone was weird. Marion and Kevin were there. I was just babbling, as usual. Marion asked how I was doing as if something were wrong. I said "Fine". He said, "You don't know?" "Know what?", I asked. "Come into my office. I need to tell you something." "Is this going to make me crazy?" "Probably. Come inside and you can cry or scream or whatever you need to do." It was horrible. I couldn't believe it. I was angry. I was sad. I hurt. And it still wasn't over. Labor had not even begun. Daniel hadn't reached you yet. This is the part of the story that you need to hear. I know you don't understand what happened with your friends. Why some of the ones you were closest to could say things that hurt - those remarks you hated so much. You lashed out in anger, or even worse, you said nothing to correct them but held hatred in your heart. No one expected you to be strong. No one asked you to. We wanted, no - needed, to be strong for you. We were grieving, too. I cried for days. But, just as I cannot imagine what it is like to lose my child, you cannot imagine what it is like to watch someone you love lose one. You can't imagine how hard it was to go into your house and pack away your dreams. I felt like I was playing the part of the angel of Death. Like maybe, if I hadn't packed the baby things, somehow, Sarah would have come back to life. Neena, Anissa, Trace and I made plans to attend the funeral. We were the only ones to acknowledge the fact that we were feeling pain, too. We held each other up during the service. I thought that if I could get through seeing the tiny pink and white gingham casket, I could survive anything. I was wrong. We had to hold each other up again when you and Daniel broke down. I will never forget that picture. I see it in my mind, often. We grieved, too. I still do. I'm not sure you knew, but it is important that you do so you can understand why I offered advice you thought was unbelievable. Why we made remarks that you thought callous. We grieved for you and Daniel, but naturally, our grief eased much quicker than yours. We went through and came out with the ability to be a little more objective about life. We never, in any way, meant to invalidate your loss. You both have the right to grieve for the rest of your lives, but you also have the right to live. That is what we wanted you to know. We had to go on with our lives, but we had lost you, too. You were walking and talking but you were dead. We lived with the fear that you would never return. For eight months, you were gone. Then, suddenly, you fanned a spark within you. Now, daily, the flame grows brighter. It is a different flame now. You seem older and wiser. I thank God every day for pulling you through. We missed you. I hope that someday you will see the good in Sarah's life and death. Some lives are long, some are all too short. The important thing about a life, however, is not the length of it, but it's effect on the lives around it. If you see Sarah's life in that way, it was very rich. She made a difference in you and Daniel, your family, the lives of other grieving parents you have reached out to. And, in my life, for which I am grateful to her and to you and Daniel for creating her. You are not alone in your memories. For those whose lives she touched, we will always remember her. I love you, Amy

On to Chapter 3