Since people want to hear a sad story.

I've written this once before. A very similar story. Since August 2010, it seems as though so many movies are coming out about children dying. Back in January I watched The Rabbit Hole starring Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart. I wrote about what I thought of the movie here.

http://fraserlifeunfolding.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-brick.html



Tonight, I made my second attempt in watching a movie where a baby dies. "The Other Woman" with Natalie Portman. But here is the thing that I wonder... Who writes these stories? Who sits down types out a manuscript based on their ideas or theory's on what exactly is must be like to loose a child?

The Other Woman, goes against so many... Okay, almost all of my moral values. The setting takes place after a woman sets her sites on a married man at work, and knowing he has a family, sets out to pursue him otherwise. A business meeting turns into a heated affair, where she winds up pregnant with his second child. After divorcing his wife, and remarrying his pregnant "mistress", they try to squeeze his eight year old son into their new life after loosing their newborn daughter from SIDS.

Not only did I feel the step mother mistreated his son, I felt as though the little boy wasn't allowed to, and wasn't helped in the grieving of his baby sister either. Not always does a baby die in a family without other children. And as parents, grieving parents at that, we have to put our children and their heartache above our own. Unfortunately for this story line, being she wasn't his biological mother, she showed that she had very little concern for the child that was not hers. And at times you felt as though, she had hatred towards the little boy that he survived and her baby didn't. It would have completed the picture perfect life she set out to find when she interferred with another family. Not to say that the married man wasn't equally to blame. Because he was. There is never any excuse for that.

This is the second movie now, that threw an affair into the emotional rollercoaster that is loosing a child. I can say, that not once in this journey I thought leaving my husband would "fix" my "problem."

It has been made apparent to me that people just want to hear a sad story. But only sad to a certain convienience. A friend and angel mom, agreed with me that these two stories start after the baby is gone. This leaves people feeling less attached to the child missing from the story. If you want a story about an infant death, let's bring the child into the picture....

Lets show the pregnancy leading up to the birth of that child. Lets show the mother who, never gets to look into her babies eyes to see their soul because the soul has already left. Let's show the mother who's baby never cries, and in a moment leaves the delivery room unable to fill their lungs with air. Let's tell the story of the healthy baby that is welcomed into the family. Yes, by all means... lets tell this story.... since people want to hear a "sad" story.

A healthy baby boy or girl is born. The mother spends nights in the hospital loving, nursing, and absorbing this baby. A few days later that sweet vibrant child gets to come home. Mommy dresses baby in the best outfit picked for this special moment. Big brothers or sisters await for her. The days continue. Mommy nurses. Daddy changes diapers. They loose sleep night after night, for the little person they love so much. Big brother or sister talks to baby in his or her swing, and put the pacifiers back consistantly everytime it pops out of the sweet little mouth. Baby gets bathed, and with a full belly and a lullabye gets gently placed into their crib. Mommy stands there so much in love, just staring, watching her baby breathe. The last time mommy see's baby breathing. A lifeless body lays in the crib. So different from the child that lay there hours before. A coroner takes that loved baby away. A lifeless mother is asked questions for the police report. They take everything from baby's crib. And they leave. This mother is left to life. A life that she had opened up to a child that is now missing. The dryer is going... It's washing armfuls of tiny baby socks, and spitup onesies. A husband and wife are left to each other. To mourn. To help their children mourn. To learn to live with the burden that is death.

Wait, does that story seem too sad? Too real? Then tell the one about the mother and father that fight every day for weeks, while their baby struggles day and night to survive. Only until one day they are given the news that no matter what, that little life can hold on no longer. Then we will watch as the two people, who came together in their love, sit and watch as their child dies in their very arms. As the little body becomes heavier and heavier as their baby becomes limper and limper loosing more life with each passing second.

Now. Tell that story. When someone does, then come find me. Cause THOSE are the REAL stories. You will never find them written in the fairy tale books, that so many people are looking to find. These are lives, not stories. And they never end in happily ever after so to speak... If your gonna tell it. For our sake, atleast tell it right...

What my five year old knows.

Sometimes, things around the Fraser household can go a week even two completely normal. {And I am not sure how exactly I mean normal.} Normal in a sense, the pain of Savannah is almost non-existent. Then there are days, like yesterday afternoon, when suddenly, and in an instant, I remember that just because I may not be saying her name outloud very often, doesn't mean I don't think of her. And this goes for the members in my family who lost her too.

{Michael David.}

 Day before yesterday {Thursday} me and my three little ones went to visit Savannah, and bring her some decorative goodies we all picked out, prepping her gravesite for Easter and St. Patricks Day. Visiting her, brings thoughts of her closer to the front of our minds.

It was a warm, sunny day yesterday afternoon. I drove down the road, window cracked, enjoying the radio playing familiar songs, with my daughter and two sons riding along as my usual company. Michael sat in the backseat coloring in his sister's "Strawberry Shortcake" coloring book. {Yes, I am that mom who has coloring books and crayons in my car.} Humming to myself, Michael from the backseat spoke up over the music. "Look Mommy, I drew a heart." Turning around briefly to show delight in his artwork, all the while trying to watch the road while driving through downtown traffic at "school pickup" rush hour, I said "Wow Michael, that is a beautiful heart." He smiled proudly, went back to coloring, and I went back to driving and humming.

A few minutes later, Michael's little voice broke through the radio once more. "Your heart doesn't look like ours Mommy. Yours changed to the shape of a baby. This is your heart Mommy."

I turned around again, trying to look at his artwork and register all that had just been said to me. I glance and see the tiny drawing of a baby. A precious stick baby, but a baby in Michael's eyes non the less. Michael see's the change. The transformation a mother experiences when they loose a child. It's too much for much for my baby shaped heart to take in rush hour. "Thank you Michael," was all I could muster. I rolled through a green light thinking of the observation my five year old had made. A pretty big one in my eyes... Finding out you have a new heart from your five year old? Let's just say the sun kissing my arms felt even nicer to me, afterwards.

A big brother standing proud at 

his baby sisters funeral.

How children all grieve differently.

Savannah is important.

But there are three other little people who have stolen a piece of my heart as well. And since I don't ever want to portray Savannah as "my favorite" due to the circumstances, I wanted to introduce you to some of my other heartbeats, & explain how they have been coping with the loss of their baby sister...

Sarah Nicole

Born June 18th, 2004

Our first girl. Was the only girl before Savannah arrived, in a group of four boy grandchildren. She started first grade this year and really is thriving with every second. She is headstrong and opinionated; yet compassionate and and tender hearted. Sarah has wanted nothing more than to have a sister. She nurtures and mothers her brothers, but also recognizes the amount of testosterone that is running through the Fraser household.

Savannah was going to share secrets, makeup, clothes, and Sarah's love for all things girly. This is what Sarah dreamed of atleast. She has handled the loss of Savannah, and the dreams of everything that came with having a baby sister amazingly well. She doesn't like that she never got to see her, and that all she has for memories are photographs. She is old enough to understand most of what has happend. She doesn't like the outcome, but she loves that her sister, the one she has waited for, dances with Jesus. She is optimistic that this next baby will be allowed to stay, and {hopefully} will be a girl. We'll see Sarry girl, we'll see. Just remember sweety, "everything happends for a reason."

Michael David

Born May 22nd, 2005

I had a rough pregnancy with little Michael. Blood clots, depression, and pre-term labor. Michael was born into our world instantly sucking his thumb. He is our highly sensative, high strung, quivery voice, teddy bear. He is a contemplating, internalizing, loving, caring, snuggle bug. And that is exactly what he has done with Savannah's death.

He contemplates. He internalizes.

Every night at dinner, Michael never ceases to amaze me wiht his genuine heartfelt prayers on behalf of the baby girl he treasures. {They are such powerful prayers from a five year old, that one day they almost brought my brother to tears.} Michael prayed for Savannah while she formed in mommies tummy, and Michael continues to pray for her even after her soul has left us. Knowing the size of Michael's heart, when he is grown with a family of his own, they will gather around their dinner table and he will say a little prayer for Savannah.  Thanking the Lord for bringing her home to Him, so he could help her breathe again...

Michael although he hasn't said much, has been showing signs that he isn't handeling her death well, although I am sure he is unaware of it. I don't think he is struggling due to knowing he misses his sister, I think he is dealing with the grief and is unaware of his feelings. Michael loved kindergarten when he first started this year. He looked forward to it all last year, when I homeschooled Miss.Sarah. He did well the first few weeks, and it wasn't until after Savannah's death and the chaos that was our home there after, that Michael turned into someone I had never met before. He has stories everyday of kids being mean to him. I'd watch in the mornings as he would seclude himself from the other children on the playground, and sit by himself. He hasn't been progressing in his learning, as if he has shut out the world. He reminds me daily that he misses Savannah, and is worried I won't be there to pick him up everyday when school is over. This summer, {in an uphill battle} we managed to completely break Michael of sucking his thumb. The age had finally come, and it was beginning to effect his teeth and bite. He didn't suck his thumb during the day, but at night when he was sleeping, in would go the thumb. We were so proud of him, and he was especially proud of himself. Savannah left us. There is now nothing we can do to to keep the finger out of his mouth. Morning.... noon... night... it is there. I don't have the heart to prevent it right now. Last night, as he laid down to go to sleep {staring at a picture he has hidden in a special place of Grandma, while sucking his thumb} he took his finger out of his mouth and asked me, "are Grandma and Grandpa going to move to a new house?" I told him no, as I pulled the blankets up around him. He continued staring at the picture, so I asked, "why?" He proceeded to tell me that if Grandma and Grandpa moved away they wouldn't tell us where they lived and he wouldn't see them again. {Grandma and Grandpa-especially, are Michael's world. His little, stressed out world, revolves around their involvement in our family.} And it dawned on me. Michael, in his own little ways, is associating Savannah's death, the fact that she is a member of our family, but we will never see her again, with everyone who is close to him. We are here now, but are we going to be here in an hour, tomorrow, next week even? Needless to say, Koady and I made the decision to remove Michael from kindergarten this year, so he can spend some quality time here... where he feels safe. Where everything is going to be okay. We will give Michael some much needed time to just grieve... with the comfort of his family surrounding him. I'll always be here Michael, no matter what.

Brody Peyton

Born December 19th, 2007

What is there to say about Brody. {If you knew this little boy, you would know exactly what I mean.} He radiates more energy than the sun. Mischief should have been his middle name. He is unable to sit still... it is a battle to get him to follow directions... his noise level could break sound barriers... he is impatient and impulsive to say the least. My husband refers to him as {which there is no better way to describe him} our force of nature. But as you all may be counting your blessings as you read this that he isn't your son, Brody is also very loving and very funny. His hugs could bring you to tears. And when he grabs your cheeks, looks straight into your eyes, and tells you, "I yub you mommy," you know every second of his utter frusteration is worth it.

Obviously, with Brody being two and a half when Savannah was born, he is unaware of the loss in our family. We were going to have a baby. Okay. Now we have pictures of "baby abanna." Having a new baby is pretty darn cool to Brody. It will never have the same effect on Brody as it does on Sarah and Michael. And though this may seem awful to say, it makes me sad for him. I don't want him to feel the hurt of loosing her, but I know that the hurt makes it real. The hurt makes Savannah real. He will always know that Savannah is his baby sister. That he is her big brother, but he will never fully grasp how major the loss was to us. Thank you Brody, for making me laugh during this time, and definatly keeping me busy...

"Mommy loves all four of you...

...more than you will ever know."

Sisters.

I am currently a mother of three sick little ones. Brody started the downward viral spiral weekend before last. I was quick to catch the cough, but no other symptoms. {Which isn't like me at all.} And then Michael picked up the cough, followed by the grand finale of Miss. Sarah. I have been pushing juices and cough medicine, but last night around 12am, Michael woke up crying.


I went to him, thinking he may of had a bad dream. "What's the matter bud?" I asked, tired but still trying to be comforting. He clutched his ear... Ear infection... Awsome. I went downstairs and prepared some motrin, and dug for the ear drops. Once he was pampered, snuggled, and feeling a little better, Sarah stirred. Fever... Double-y awsome. More motrin, a glass of cold water, and another one was snuggled back into bed. As my head hit the pillow {ahhhhh} I knew they wouldn't be making it to school in the morning. And I slowly drifted back into dreamland...


First thing this morning I called the doctors office. I scheduled each of them an appointment being "whooping cough" is on the rise... just to be sure... When I told Sarah she wasn't going to school because she needed to see the doctor she cried. I didn't understand. I thought it must have been due to the fact she was missing school. {See I told you they loved it.} She curled up on the couch and sobbed. I still was in the dark about why this was so tramatic.


"Why do I have to go to the doctor?" Sarah had a perplexed look on her face. "The doctor will make you better, and can probably give you something that will get rid of that nasty cough," I replied. She was quiet for a few minutes. "Am I going to heaven?" My heart jus broke.


We have kept Savannah's story at a childhood innocence level for the kids. Sarah took it the hardest. She wanted her baby sister more than any little one could probably hope and dream. Her prayers were wrapped around having a girl. She bonded with Savannah. She talked to her the entire pregnancy. She got giddy over every pink baby item on the shelves of every store we ventured into. She told me stories of all of the things she would do with and for Savannah. More than nine months went into Sarah's sister fantasy. And all too soon, her plans and dreams were also shattered. She never got to meet her. Sarah only has pictures that goes with her anticipated sister. 


When Savannah was born Grandma and Grandpa explained to the kids that she was sick, and needed to stay in the hospital for awhile while doctors made her better. To Sarah, Savannah was in doctors care. The doctors were supposed to be making Savannah better. But Savannah never came home. 


Savannah is better now... but Savannah is in heaven, not here with us.


I sat down with Sarah and held her. I told her that it is not her time to go to heaven yet, and that God chose Savannah for our family for a special reason but he needed her more than we did. God knew that we would understand and he trusted that.


I told Sarah that Savannah's nurses and doctors were wonderful people who did so much for her and that they took extra special care of her while she was with them. But I explained to her that doctors can only do a small part of God's bigger plan. 


God could have healed Savannah here on earth. He could have healed her before she came to us. He could have healed her after. But he didn't. That doesn't mean he can't perform miracles. That doesn't mean he doesn't exist. That doesn't mean he doesn't love us, or that he doesn't love Savannah. It means he loves her that much more. I then told Sarah, because we praised God as we said goodbye to Savannah it means God loves us that much more too... and we will see her again. Savannah's situation had God's hand in it from the very beginning, just as all of ours does.


Needless to say, we are headed to the doctor {willingly} this afternoon... and we will see that we all come out on the other side. {Eventually & Luckily}


And Sarah will always have a healthy baby sister with her always...