School's starting!

So, this being a Loss Parent thing keeps coming up with wonderful new, unexpected ways to suck. I'm constantly surprised by things that I didn't anticipate being as difficult as they are.  The most recent example?  School time.  There have been a lot of times I have known would be difficult for us.  Mother's Day, Father's Day, our birthdays, Christmas.  But I wouldn't have thought of the beginning of September.  I've generally been ok with kids who are older than Ana would be, so school age kids should be ok.  Right?
     What I didn't count on were the parents.  A couple months ago it seemed like all of my Facebook friends were having babies.  Now it seems like everyone has children going to school.  They're all posting about how sad they are that their babies are going to school, and I just have to sit there and remember that I'll never get to have that.  Well, I will, we'll have a lot more children and they'll go to school, and I'll be sad and proud to watch them get on that big yellow bus.  But there will always be one missing.
     It can be really hard to read about some people breaking down over their kids going to school.  One person was so bad I had to say something.  Without getting into too much detail, this person was posting about how awful it was that her daughter was moving to another town to transfer to a better school.  She went on and on about how she hasn't ever been away from her daughter, and she can't sleep from worrying about it.  And then she said it.  She's grieving.  She's grieving for her daughter who's moving a few hours away, in the same state, within phone, Skype and driving access, for ten months.  I couldn't handle it.  I don't usually, but I made a comment.
   I pointed out that her daughter was alive, and she could see her whenever she wanted.  This was not something to grieve over, especially since I could not do any of these things with my baby, even though I wanted to more than anything.  This is why I wanted to start this blog, to talk about these things and hopefully give those who aren't going through this some insight into what you can do to be sensitive to those in your life who have lost children.  Today's lesson is to remember that as bad as things get with your children, you still have your children.  I'm not trying to say that you don't have a right to complain about your kids, or miss them when they go away.  But, before you use words like "grieve," please remember that that word has a real meaning for some who may see your use of it as comparing your situation to theirs.  (For the record, unless you have had a child die, your situation does not compare to ours, in the slightest.)  This will probably become a well worn phrase as this blog goes on, but never take your children or any of their milestones for granted.  There are many people who would give everything they have to be able to see their own children again.  I hope all you parents have smooth school transitions, be they kindergarten/first grade, high school or college, and I hope your kids have a great school year.

     Hello, Blogosphere, welcome to my blog!  I'd like to use my first post to introduce myself and talk a little bit about why I wanted to start a blog, and what the blog will be about.  My name is Toby, and I live in the great state of Maine.  I play many roles in my life, husband, son, employee, future small business owner, but the role that has become the most important to me is my role as father.  Being a father has quickly become a major definition of my life.  And, that brings us to my purpose in starting this blog.
     You see, I am a very special kind of father.  On March 1, 2013, my wife and I went to a routine visit with our obstetrician.  When our doctor couldn't find the baby's heartbeat on her older ultrasound machine, she sent us to the hospital.  A few minutes (I honestly couldn't tell you how long) and two sonographers later, we were told that there was no heartbeat.  Our daughter had died.  Our world fell apart.  The next day, March 2, we went to the hospital, and our daughter, Anastasia Maeve, entered the world silently at 2:24 p.m., gone before she even got a chance to arrive.
    The four months since that day have seen us slowly coming back from the lowest point in our lives.  We found that stillbirth is usually not talked about, despite the fact that 1 in 160 births end this way, according to the March of Dimes.  People who haven't experienced the loss of a child are often uncomfortable thinking about it.  They don't know what to say to the parents, and, especially if they are parents themselves, they don't want to think about the same thing happening to them, so they say nothing.
     The major theme throughout the infant loss community right now is "breaking the silence."  That is what this blog is about.  Breaking the silence on stillbirth and infant loss.  Breaking the silence on grieving.  And, breaking the silence on being a father who has lost a child.  Most information that is out there focuses on the mother, and that's great.  Mothers of loss have a horrendous time after losing their baby.  But, as fathers, we were just as excited for the baby.  We feel the pain just as much.  Our arms are just as empty.  I plan to use this blog to discuss my grieving process and thoughts and insights that come through my mind as I journey through a fatherhood that I never imagined I would have to face.  It may be hard for some to read at times.  It will absolutely be hard for me to write at times.  But, I feel that I need to do this as much for my own healing as for the help I may provide to others.  This is my way of honoring Anastasia's Legacy, and hopefully, together, she and I can help break the silence.