Deb Stoner
06-15-2006, 11:44 PM
Wanted to share an article I wrote for my Mom's Club newsletter. I want all of the affiliated photographers to know how much their work can mean to a family. I hope this explains what it would have meant to me! Thanks for all you do and thanks to Megan for helping me edit!
I Am a Mommy, Just Like You
“How many children do you have?” “Do you have pictures with you?” “How old are they?” These are questions we all have answered. Simple enough, right? Wrong. A few years ago these questions left me feeling nauseous. I would avoid the questions at all cost.
December 30, 2003
My daughter, Marah, died on December 28, 2003. She was born on December 29, 2003. Marah was 36 weeks gestation. It was difficult to wrap my mind around. How could a baby die before she was born? In the early stages of grief, I asked myself that many times. Marah was born still. There were no cries to announce her entry into this world, only our tears. In the early days after Marah’s death, I often questioned whether I was a mom to her. In my mind, I would think, “I must have been. I gave birth to her.” I looked at her photos to remind myself that I did have a sweet baby girl and she was a gift to our family.
I must have been a mom to Marah. I had photographs of her sweet little face. Despite being taken with a disposable camera, I loved them! Marah’s photographs helped bring me back into reality. She had dark, curly hair and tiny, hairy ears. She had my favorite Aunt’s thin lips and my nose! Marah wore pale pink velour with a frolicking blue giraffe, sporting a pink yarn mane. She was wrapped in a cozy pink and white cotton receiving blanket. She must have been real. I saw the pictures. My husband and I cradled her and rocked her in our arms. She spent the night in our room. Eli, 3 ½ at the time, noticed her tiny fingernails. Her hairy ears made him giggle. He snuggled her in a handsewn quilt given to us by the hospital. Eli held her; I have a picture of that. Marah gave her brother a gift that day. The gift of knowing that death is part of life and that it is not scary - the gift of compassion beyond his years that happened in two short days. She must have been real. As the days went by, I studied those photographs for answers to Marah’s death. Always studying, but never finding answers.
When I left the hospital I remember thinking, what if someone asks me how many children I have, how will I answer? If I say two and they ask how old-THEN WHAT? What if they ask to see photos of my children? Will I show them Marah’s picture? I really want to, she is my baby and I think she is beautiful.
After a year of fumbling through what to say when I was asked the dreaded questions, it dawned on me WHY I dreaded them. I wasn’t afraid to tell people. I wasn’t afraid I would cry. I was afraid of the reaction I would see. It was the pitiful look I got from a grocery store clerk. That question was always the party stopper, with everyone quick to change the subject. Some people would look away, as if I had said nothing. Eli was oblivious to “the looks”. He just wanted to share his sister. He would randomly tell anyone who would listen, “I had a sister and she died.”
Both of my children were equally important to me. One of them just happens to be in heaven. I loved hearing Marah’s name. I was still a proud Mommy, just like you. I wanted to show off her photographs, just like you. I wanted to talk about my baby, just like you. I wanted to talk about Marah without the silence and change of subjects. Yet, on some days I wasn’t strong enough to do that. In our society, infant death is not discussed.
“The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring music to my ears.
If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of his name.
It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul.”
Author Unknown
December 28, 2004
Marah’s photographs bring me joy. I look at them now and smile at my baby. I wonder if she would be walking and what her first word would have been. I wonder if her hair would still be curly. Would she love applesauce and would I sneak her bites of ice cream?
“How many children do you have?” On my strong days, I would say I had two. “Oh, how old are they?” “Eli is 5 and Marah would have been 1 this year. Would you like to hear about them?” I am a proud mom, just like you. I want to share my children with my friends, just like you.
December 28, 2005
Baby Gretchen arrived on April 6th of this year with a beautiful cry that I will never forget. What a joy and relief that she arrived safely in our arms. Gretchen’s photos have found their way onto our walls. She takes her place next to her big brother and sister. I now realize the impact that photography can have on a family. Gretchen and Eli have been to our family photographer, Diane Spagnuolo, more in one year than I want to admit! Last month when I told Eli we were going to Diane’s to have pictures taken, his response was, “Not Again - You’ve got to me kidding me, Mom!”
I search through Marah’s images for details that have slipped my mind, but they are not there. I want to see her tiny toes, but they are covered up in a blanket. Was it her right ear or left one that was scrunched on the top? I have forgotten those little things and long to see them again, but they are gone. I love my babies’ pictures, just like you. I only wish that I had quality photos of Marah, taken by a professional photographer - photographs that would show her fingers and toes with great detail. I wish I had images of her ears and close-ups of the ringlets of her hair.
This year I learned about a foundation called Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (NILMDTS). NILMDTS is a group of professional photographers providing sensitive and compassionate remembrance photography. I knew at the moment our family photographer, Diane Spagnuolo, told me about this organization, I had to be involved. I knew it was a way that Marah and I could help a family experiencing the loss of an infant. Diane is one of the photographers serving NILMDTS in the Columbus area. The photographs Diane takes allow families to cherish their babies and share the spirits of their lives. There is never a charge to families for this service! You can learn more about this organization at www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org (http://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/)
We are in need of talented photographers willing to serve their community. If you know of a professional photographer that would be interested in volunteering his/her time, please call me at 614-204-9623.
“How many children do you have?” Every time I answer “Three”. “How old are they?” “Eli is 6, Gretchen is 1 and Marah would have been 2 this year. I have pictures!”
MOM’S CLUB mission is to offer support to Mothers. We are all moms; all proud of our children. Pregnancy and birth is a miraculous time filled with joy. However, there is another aspect of pregnancy and birth not often discussed. When a baby dies, a world is turned upside down. This is a time that a MOM’S CLUB member can stand by their motto of MOMS OFFERING MOMS SUPPORT. I hope that you never need remembrance photography information, but having this knowledge may allow you to support a mom through her grief journey. 1 in every 200 babies in the United States is born still. Stillbirth is defined as an infant loss, in utero, past 20 weeks gestation. The silence of a stillborn baby is deafening. There are several moms in our group that have been affected by stillbirth or early infant loss. We are still moms of sweet babies, just like you. If you would like more information on how to talk with a family experiencing an infant loss, please don’t hesitate to call me.
“There is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world.”
Author unknown
Written by: Deb Stoner, Mom to Earthly angels Eli and Gretchen and heavenly angel, Marah
I Am a Mommy, Just Like You
“How many children do you have?” “Do you have pictures with you?” “How old are they?” These are questions we all have answered. Simple enough, right? Wrong. A few years ago these questions left me feeling nauseous. I would avoid the questions at all cost.
December 30, 2003
My daughter, Marah, died on December 28, 2003. She was born on December 29, 2003. Marah was 36 weeks gestation. It was difficult to wrap my mind around. How could a baby die before she was born? In the early stages of grief, I asked myself that many times. Marah was born still. There were no cries to announce her entry into this world, only our tears. In the early days after Marah’s death, I often questioned whether I was a mom to her. In my mind, I would think, “I must have been. I gave birth to her.” I looked at her photos to remind myself that I did have a sweet baby girl and she was a gift to our family.
I must have been a mom to Marah. I had photographs of her sweet little face. Despite being taken with a disposable camera, I loved them! Marah’s photographs helped bring me back into reality. She had dark, curly hair and tiny, hairy ears. She had my favorite Aunt’s thin lips and my nose! Marah wore pale pink velour with a frolicking blue giraffe, sporting a pink yarn mane. She was wrapped in a cozy pink and white cotton receiving blanket. She must have been real. I saw the pictures. My husband and I cradled her and rocked her in our arms. She spent the night in our room. Eli, 3 ½ at the time, noticed her tiny fingernails. Her hairy ears made him giggle. He snuggled her in a handsewn quilt given to us by the hospital. Eli held her; I have a picture of that. Marah gave her brother a gift that day. The gift of knowing that death is part of life and that it is not scary - the gift of compassion beyond his years that happened in two short days. She must have been real. As the days went by, I studied those photographs for answers to Marah’s death. Always studying, but never finding answers.
When I left the hospital I remember thinking, what if someone asks me how many children I have, how will I answer? If I say two and they ask how old-THEN WHAT? What if they ask to see photos of my children? Will I show them Marah’s picture? I really want to, she is my baby and I think she is beautiful.
After a year of fumbling through what to say when I was asked the dreaded questions, it dawned on me WHY I dreaded them. I wasn’t afraid to tell people. I wasn’t afraid I would cry. I was afraid of the reaction I would see. It was the pitiful look I got from a grocery store clerk. That question was always the party stopper, with everyone quick to change the subject. Some people would look away, as if I had said nothing. Eli was oblivious to “the looks”. He just wanted to share his sister. He would randomly tell anyone who would listen, “I had a sister and she died.”
Both of my children were equally important to me. One of them just happens to be in heaven. I loved hearing Marah’s name. I was still a proud Mommy, just like you. I wanted to show off her photographs, just like you. I wanted to talk about my baby, just like you. I wanted to talk about Marah without the silence and change of subjects. Yet, on some days I wasn’t strong enough to do that. In our society, infant death is not discussed.
“The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring music to my ears.
If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of his name.
It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul.”
Author Unknown
December 28, 2004
Marah’s photographs bring me joy. I look at them now and smile at my baby. I wonder if she would be walking and what her first word would have been. I wonder if her hair would still be curly. Would she love applesauce and would I sneak her bites of ice cream?
“How many children do you have?” On my strong days, I would say I had two. “Oh, how old are they?” “Eli is 5 and Marah would have been 1 this year. Would you like to hear about them?” I am a proud mom, just like you. I want to share my children with my friends, just like you.
December 28, 2005
Baby Gretchen arrived on April 6th of this year with a beautiful cry that I will never forget. What a joy and relief that she arrived safely in our arms. Gretchen’s photos have found their way onto our walls. She takes her place next to her big brother and sister. I now realize the impact that photography can have on a family. Gretchen and Eli have been to our family photographer, Diane Spagnuolo, more in one year than I want to admit! Last month when I told Eli we were going to Diane’s to have pictures taken, his response was, “Not Again - You’ve got to me kidding me, Mom!”
I search through Marah’s images for details that have slipped my mind, but they are not there. I want to see her tiny toes, but they are covered up in a blanket. Was it her right ear or left one that was scrunched on the top? I have forgotten those little things and long to see them again, but they are gone. I love my babies’ pictures, just like you. I only wish that I had quality photos of Marah, taken by a professional photographer - photographs that would show her fingers and toes with great detail. I wish I had images of her ears and close-ups of the ringlets of her hair.
This year I learned about a foundation called Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (NILMDTS). NILMDTS is a group of professional photographers providing sensitive and compassionate remembrance photography. I knew at the moment our family photographer, Diane Spagnuolo, told me about this organization, I had to be involved. I knew it was a way that Marah and I could help a family experiencing the loss of an infant. Diane is one of the photographers serving NILMDTS in the Columbus area. The photographs Diane takes allow families to cherish their babies and share the spirits of their lives. There is never a charge to families for this service! You can learn more about this organization at www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org (http://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/)
We are in need of talented photographers willing to serve their community. If you know of a professional photographer that would be interested in volunteering his/her time, please call me at 614-204-9623.
“How many children do you have?” Every time I answer “Three”. “How old are they?” “Eli is 6, Gretchen is 1 and Marah would have been 2 this year. I have pictures!”
MOM’S CLUB mission is to offer support to Mothers. We are all moms; all proud of our children. Pregnancy and birth is a miraculous time filled with joy. However, there is another aspect of pregnancy and birth not often discussed. When a baby dies, a world is turned upside down. This is a time that a MOM’S CLUB member can stand by their motto of MOMS OFFERING MOMS SUPPORT. I hope that you never need remembrance photography information, but having this knowledge may allow you to support a mom through her grief journey. 1 in every 200 babies in the United States is born still. Stillbirth is defined as an infant loss, in utero, past 20 weeks gestation. The silence of a stillborn baby is deafening. There are several moms in our group that have been affected by stillbirth or early infant loss. We are still moms of sweet babies, just like you. If you would like more information on how to talk with a family experiencing an infant loss, please don’t hesitate to call me.
“There is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world.”
Author unknown
Written by: Deb Stoner, Mom to Earthly angels Eli and Gretchen and heavenly angel, Marah