Community

At different times in our lives, we belong to different communities.  Our family unit is our first community.  School.  Post-Secondary.  Sports.  Work.  Social groups.  Church.  Parent groups.  I've belonged to many communities of people.  Most very supportive and I've been honoured to be a part of them.  For three years now though, I have struggled to belong to a community, one in which I feel normal and safe and understood.

When James was stillborn in March 2010, my daughter was in preschool.  I had belonged to that very involved parent participation preschool community for almost two years.  It had been a wonderful experience, belonging.  We shared many values and experiences and the ups and downs of raising preschoolers and their older or younger siblings.  When James was born still, I had a difficult time continuing to feel like I belonged.  The parents were very supportive, setting up a "meal angels" delivery, so that for the first few weeks, we had a hot meal delivered each night for dinner.  However, after the first few weeks, I didn't feel like I belonged anymore.  I felt like I made people feel uncomfortable every time I dropped off or picked up my daughter.  Whether this was real or imagined on my part, this is how I felt.  There was only three months left of preschool, and I knew that my belonging to this community would be over soon.  I no longer had a commonality with these other moms.  My other child was not alive.  We no longer spoke the same language.  We had moved cities in January and eventhough my daughter stayed in her preschool, she would be starting kindergarten in our new city.  Today, three and a half years later, one of my best friends, confidant and biggest supporter is another mom from preschool.  Other than this amazing woman, I no longer have any connection to that community.

It is just recently that I have found a community that I finally feel like I belong again.  It happened by circumstance, not by choice.

While pregnant with Zachary this year, I was having a hard time reconciling his pregnancy and fully connecting with him, while feeling so sad about the fact that James was not here.  One night in May, while feeling these extreme feelings of delight of being pregnant again and overwhelming feelings of guilt that I was feeling excitement, I went searching online for support.  I could never have known how important it was that I went searching at that time.  I discovered a conference that would be held in July in Vancouver.  It was a conference about bringing stillbirth out of the shadows, and the tag line really spoke to me:  You Are Not Alone.  The more I read about the conference, I knew it was right for me.  When I shared it with my husband, he knew this was something I had to do for me.  There were others I shared it with that wondered why I wanted to attend such an event when I was pregnant and welcoming another baby into our family.  I even heard the dreaded words, "just move on" and "you are expecting a new baby, and can't spend time worrying about your past."  They clearly did not understand.  For me, I needed to go, to do this for James, and remember him and celebrate him and all that he meant to me.  I needed him to know that his mommy hasn't forgotten him, and that she never will.  I registered for the conference in early June.  Little did I know at that time that I would be attending the conference to honour both my beautiful boys.  After Zachary was born still, I questioned whether I could attend.  Not because I didn't want to, but I didn't know if I could emotionally and mentally handle it.  My husband encouraged me to keep my plans and to attend.  My mom worried about me, and thought maybe I shouldn't, but encouraged me to do what I thought best for me.  I emailed one of the organizers, and briefly shared my story.  I asked if there would be a quiet space should it be needed for parents who needed to step away to catch their breath.  It was clear to me from the response I received that the conference was exactly where I needed to be.  One line in the response said:  "Please let her know that we will find a space and we will be there for her 100%."  From that warm email response, I could feel that community. 

Less than a month after the stillbirth of my second son Zachary, I attended Still Life Canada's conference.  In one word:  AMAZING!  It was two full days of sharing by bereaved parents and a truly inspiring keynote and sessions leader, Dr. Joanne Cacciatore.  In those two days, I felt normal.  I felt accepted.  I felt safe.  I felt my sons mattered, and people wanted to know about them, and hear their stories.  I made new friendships.  I joined a new community, a community in which I will always belong. 

In the 6 weeks since the conference, I have had some coffee dates, a park playdate with my daughter and another bereaved mom and her daughter and just this past weekend, Still Life Canada put on their 1st Anniversary BBQ that our family attended.  I was able to introduce my husband and daughter to many of the people I have met, as well as talk to new people that I hadn't had the opportunity to meet at the conference.  What a supportive, understanding community that exists.  None of us chose to belong to this community, but we do belong.  As we left the BBQ the other day, and I asked my husband how he felt, he responded something like this:  "It's not a group anyone wants to, or should have to join, but it's great to know that there are others who understand and know.  I can see why you have felt such support, its definitely a special community of people."

For over three years, I have felt alone much of that time.  I haven't felt I belonged.  I could not describe it, but I knew there was something missing.  Now I know.  I hadn't really felt I belonged in a community.  I finally do again.  Thank you Still Life Canada, Andrea, Lynn, Alena and your husbands, and babies and families for creating this community.  Thank you James and Zachary, mommy knows you are helping guide me on this crazy path called life.