Stillbirth: Remembering Robert Elias McCall
Robert Elias McCall, our third child and second son, died shortly before birth. Giving birth to him was the most terrifying thing I have ever been through. I wasn't sure I could bear to look at him, hold him, or love him once he was gone. It turned out that I could — over and over again.
Apart from the fact that he wasn't breathing, Eli looked no different from our other children when he was born. We were truly blessed to have several hours to memorize his dark curls, his pointed chin, his long feet, and his slender fingers. We gave him a bath, christened him, and sang him lullabies. Then, when the moment arrived, we dressed him and watched the nurses wheel him away. I would never see him again.
Stillbirth Is Not the Same as Miscarriage
Stillbirth is rarely discussed openly, and many people lump it together with miscarriage. They are not the same. Miscarriages are devastating, painful losses, and I know the hardest part is often never meeting your baby or finding out whether it was a boy or a girl. With a stillborn baby, you do know. You have had eight or nine months to prepare for this child to come home.
In our case, we left for the hospital overjoyed about meeting our son, only to be told that the baby who had been kicking moments earlier was gone. A day that should have been joyful turned awful in an instant. You come home from the hospital to a nursery that is already finished, full of clothes, toys, and furniture your baby will never use.
Nothing Prepares You for the Loss
Nothing can prepare you to watch your child leave you forever. Nothing can prepare you to phone a funeral home instead of calling excited friends and relatives. Nothing can prepare you for the days, weeks, months, and years after the goodbye, when it feels as though you are the only person who still remembers your baby.
There is little I can say to prepare you, except this: seize every chance to honor your baby. Make casts of the footprints. Ask a photographer from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep to take professional portraits. Take all the time you need, and don't let anyone tell you when time is up. When you decide it is time to let go, keep every keepsake you can. Even if they are too painful to look at right away, a time will come when you are glad to have them.
There Is No Right Way to Grieve
Once you are home, remember that there is no right or wrong way to grieve your baby. If diving back into daily life is what gets you through, do it. If hibernating for a while feels right, that is okay too.
Our family went on vacation to New York City just a day after Eli was born. We wanted to be somewhere we could grieve privately, a place where no one knew us and where there was plenty going on so we could try to enjoy ourselves when we could. It was one of the most bittersweet experiences of my life, and we now mark Eli's birthday each year with a trip to New York City. It is his place, the place I feel him most, even though he has never been there.
How to Support Someone Facing Stillbirth or Infant Loss
If you are reading this because someone you know is going through a stillbirth or infant loss, remember that everyone helps in the beginning. Often the shock does not wear off for a while, and real support is needed weeks or months down the road. Remember that the family did not only lose a newborn; they lost the one year old, the five year old, and the fifteen year old that baby would have become. The layers of grief are countless, and I am still surprised by them at times, almost three years after his death.
Most of all, if you can find something to do in honor of your baby, that may be the most healing thing of all. After Eli's death I became a child passenger safety technician. Every family I educate and every car seat I install is done in his name, and I know lives have been saved because children are safer in cars because of me and of him.
Keeping Eli's Memory Alive
Another important thing for me has been continuing to talk about Eli and keep his memory alive even after years have passed. Sometimes it is awkward, and I can tell it makes people feel bad, which makes me feel bad too. But Eli is just as real and just as important as any of my other children, and he deserves to be remembered alongside them. The missing step in my stair-step family is painfully obvious to me, and talking about him and sharing his story helps, especially when his story makes a difference in someone's life, whether that means they tell their OB about a bad feeling during pregnancy, they appreciate the children they have more, or they grow closer in their relationship with Christ.
I will never believe that God wanted us to lose our son. I know he has wept with us as we grieved. But I do strongly believe that God is bringing joy from the ashes and making Eli a lasting, beautiful legacy. In his too-short life on earth, Eli has done more than many people accomplish with far more years.
If you or someone you know is facing a stillbirth, a poor prenatal diagnosis, or the loss of a baby, please feel free to contact me. I would love to talk. There is often no rhyme or reason, and these things truly can and do happen to anyone. It is unfair, and there is no way to be ready or to get over it, but it is possible to grow from the experience, and I know my kids and I have been blessed beyond measure by my son and their brother.
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Whether you are walking through a stillbirth yourself or supporting someone who is, the most important thing is to honor your baby in whatever way feels right. There is no timeline for grief, and no one can tell you when to be done. If you would like to talk, please reach out — you are not alone.