The Importance Of Pictures

On the tragic day that Jack Teigen-Legend lost his life, I woke to a very kind text.  My friend was warning me the news was covered with details of the Teigen-Legend loss and she wanted to warn me, in case it stirred up feelings of the day Thomas died.  I was touched at her kindness, but numb to the news another woman had joined the tribe of loss mothers. 

In all honesty, I know more deceased babies than I do living ones.  In truth, the news of a loss does not affect me, but a pregnancy announcement?  Now that sends me on an emotional roller coaster.  But as one wise Mama wrote in our support group “loss, I’m familiar with, it’s in my wheelhouse.”  And it’s true; the news of the death of a baby barely causes me to blink. 

What I didn’t expect to feel was anger. 

Rage. 

I wanted to protect Chrissy Teigen from the spiteful internet.  I could never have guessed the dragging of a newly bereaved mother.  Or, equally rage-inducing, those clucking quietly, murmuring “why share this news at all, it’s best kept quiet”.  Wow.  A phrase that has never been uttered about a living child, for sure.

Back in the times Before Thomas, I had never heard of Bereavement Photography. The hospital did their best and took pictures of my son.  Thomas was the first birth in the Critical Care Unit.  We fell through the cracks, a bit.

As a newly grief-stricken loss mother; I struggled with those pictures.  Oh, how they hurt my soul.  What hurt more, was the not knowing.  I gave birth in a coma; I don’t have a single memory of his entrance in the world.  Without those pictures, I fully believe I would have lost my mind. 

My sister brought me the pictures, when I was stable – but I didn’t see them, not really.  I couldn’t see past the tears and in truth, I was not prepared for the hue of his skin. Kind of a merging of blood-red and purple, not the image I had been dreaming of, for 22 weeks.  Thomas died two weeks before his birth, he had a rough go of it.  But it never occurred to me, our lil guy would look any different then the picture in my mind; and my mind had never considered decay. And it is very hard, to look at your lil baby, and see decay. 

It took another loss mother, to sit with me and introduce me, to my son.  To show me how Thomas had his father’s forehead, his mother’s mouth.  I will never, ever forget, sitting at my kitchen table and meeting my son, for the first time.  I will forever be in her debt. 

And the weird thing is, it has been 9 years, and in that time only one person (other than my support group) has asked to see a picture of our son.  9 years! I had to scramble through my phone, not wanting to miss this opportunity to share my son.  Was it my therapist? No. My OB? No. A family member? No. It was my childhood neurologist, who cared enough to immediately and organically ask if I had a picture.  A brave man, with a heart bigger than fear.

I never, ever post pictures online, there are too many sick, individuals who steal pictures.  I understand, for the uninitiated, the bizarre notion of wanting pictures of this time is confounding to them.  To us, those of us who have walked this walk, some of us, this is all we have.  Personally, I was unconscious when I laboured, so no, I don’t remember.  But had I been awake, I assure you, the physical and emotional pain is a very opaque period of time.  You don’t remember the first few days with clarity; I know I don’t – the amount of medication I was on, was staggering.

Pictures give you back the gift that traumatic memory takes away. 

My husband does not remember the pictures my sister took at the funeral home; he was not medicated or comatose.  Bereavement photography is a gift and one that fills in holes, when the brain is able to think, again.  They are not a ploy for attention or any of the other nonsense spewed, this week.  I had to go offline, I was too angry to speak.  

To have Chrissy Teigen dragged, for posting a picture, showing her naked pain.  For not hiding in the shadows and keeping the world comfortable, really shows WHY we need to raise awareness of Pregnancy and Infant Loss, not just during October, but every month. 

It’s the reason I don’t keep quiet if people are talking about their pregnancies or birth experiences.  I, too, am allowed a voice.  And the only voice that should have been heard that day was hers. No one else had reason to speak.  Absolutely, no one had a reason or the wherewithal to judge.