Ryan

I knew this day would come and I am delighted I could hold Ryan closely in my heart to experience it.  During my morning run dedicated to Ryan, nature’s landscape was painted full of birds.  The most birds I have seen this season, of every color.  Birds that were bright yellow.  Vibrant red.  Glowing blue.  Shiny black.  Woodpeckers whose drumming echoed overhead.  The birds’ welcoming songs were so compelling that I took off my headphones and relished in their beautiful symphony.  In fact, while I was taking Ryan’s below dedication picture, a bird gently joined us on the neighboring branch.  I was delighted and practically moved to tears. 

As if the assembly of birds wasn’t magical enough, I was struck by the sight of a mama deer with three baby fawns in the field upon exiting the trail.  They were sitting there, totally undisturbed and peacefully symbolizing Sarah’s three babies that she holds in her heart.  

Why experience such enchantment on Ryan’s run in particular?  The only answer: Ryan’s magic. 

To endure a loss and relinquish the hope of trying for another child takes incredible strength.  In Sarah’s case, however, it doesn’t end here.  With a heart that is full of undeniable love, she shares her story: 

Our decision to try for a third child was not taken lightly. We have two beautiful daughters and wondered if another child was the right or responsible thing to do....and yet, we both felt pulled to have another baby. My first pregnancy in this attempt looked like a miscarriage. But something wasn't right. It turned out that it was an ectopic. I had to take methotrexate and monitor my hormone levels. A week later, it ruptured and I went into emergency surgery. This experience was not only heart-breaking but also very traumatic. I am still dealing with the anxiety and trauma it caused.

About 6 months later, we tried again. When we found out we were pregnant, we went for an ultrasound as soon as possible. We saw a heartbeat and were relieved the baby was in the right spot. Two weeks later, we were crushed to learn there was no heartbeat at a follow up ultrasound. I waited two weeks and had a miscarriage at my home at 10 weeks. It was a three day birth event. I was consumed by grief.

Two months later, I was pregnant again and had a very early miscarriage. The fall out to my body, my mental health, and my family, of the roller coaster of losses has been huge. And after a while, I knew I needed to grieve not just an embryo but the baby I had been dreaming of for two years. I feel very connected to a boy. An energetic, impulsive, curious and playful boy. We decided to name him Ryan. I feel very connected to him. He plays me our song, sends me rainbows and is as much a part of our family as my two living daughters. Whenever something curious happens around our house, my youngest often says "I bet that's Ryan's magic."

I think the courage and strength that it takes to try to conceive after loss is all too often overlooked.  Sarah in particular has endured far too many losses for one lifetime yet inspires women who know this journey by getting back up and putting one foot in front of the other and being an incredible mother.  My heart deeply goes out to Sarah, her family, and to the babies they hold tightly in their hearts.  

About run to heal:
I run to heal.  It’s where I learn to hold my grief in my heart as love.  It’s where I practice putting one foot in front of another.  It’s where I honor Quinn and other babies who are gone too soon from stillbirth, miscarriage, or neonatal death.  In preparation for my first Mother’s Day as a parent to both a living and dead child, I asked my friends and community to dedicate a workout to Quinn.  This was a powerful, soulful, and healing experience.  I felt lifted up and loved by the community.  I was humbled that so many people carried Quinn’s spirit with them.  I hope to accompany others on their journey after child loss and hold them and their son or daughter in my heart.  It is an opportunity for me to honor their child and learn their story.  Together, we will learn how to put one foot in front of the other and run to heal.  Dedicate a run here. 

Olive

After what felt like weeks of clouds and rain on the East Coast, my run was met with much needed sunshine and it made my heart sing that I could dedicate this delightfully bright and vibrant run to Olive.  Aside from the glorious and healing sunshine, what struck me most about Olive’s run were the new scents that filled the air.  I smelled several flowers before I even saw them, which is one of the many gifts of spring.  One scent in particular stopped me in my tracks.  I ran through the sweet, captivating fragrance, turned around, and located the flower.  These little trumpet-flowers were producing the most wonderfully intoxicating and concentrated smell on the trail.  I was in awe that such a small thing could produce such a wondrous effect.  I was so honored to be holding Olive in my heart when experiencing this collision of the senses. 

Olive’s mother Lindsey lovingly writes about her daughter and their tragic experience with velamentous cord insertion:

Olive was born full-term on September 16th, 2015.  After a normal, uncomplicated pregnancy I went into labor naturally but the trauma of labor and delivery was too much for my sweet girl.  What we didn't know was I had an undetected velamentous cord insertion which isn't normally an issue but the intensity of labor can cut off oxygen to the placenta which is what happened to Olive and she had too much brain damage.  She lived for a week in the NICU as we tried interventions and we were able to bring her home for 24 hours on hospice where she passed away peacefully in our arms.  Losing our perfect, 8 lb. 12 oz baby girl rocked our world.  Olive has an older sister, Lucy (3.5 years) and we have since had a baby boy, Peter (6 months).  Olive is in our lives every day and we love and miss her dearly.  Lucy and Peter will never forget their special sister.

My heart is broken by Olive’s story…yet another baby who should have lived.  I am touched by the fierce love that Lindsey has for all her children: the ones she can hold in her arms, and for Olive, who is dearly held in her heart.

I thought of not only Olive when I took the below dedication picture, but also of her beautiful mother, Lindsey, who is a fellow runner.  As a runner, seeing the beauty and challenge of the path that lies ahead is powerful, at least for me.  Especially after experiencing a devastating loss, the trail symbolizes the journey ahead.  Sometimes the trail has light, or shadows, or rain, or hills, or mountains.  But as runners, no matter what lies ahead, we tackle the journey by taking one step at a time.  Sometimes there is no end in sight, but we dedicate ourselves to the trail and persevere forward, much like we do in our journey after loss. 

About run to heal:

I run to heal.  It’s where I learn to hold my grief in my heart as love.  It’s where I practice putting one foot in front of another.  It’s where I honor Quinn and other babies who are gone too soon from stillbirth, miscarriage, or neonatal death.  In preparation for my first Mother’s Day as a parent to both a living and dead child, I asked my friends and community to dedicate a workout to Quinn.  This was a powerful, soulful, and healing experience.  I felt lifted up and loved by the community.  I was humbled that so many people carried Quinn’s spirit with them.  I hope to accompany others on their journey after child loss and hold them and their son or daughter in my heart.  It is an opportunity for me to honor their child and learn their story.  Together, we will learn how to put one foot in front of the other and run to heal.  Dedicate a run here. 

Mother's Day Run Dedication

Mother’s Day marks the one-year anniversary of my Run to Heal project.  I have been so honored to accompany many loving parents on their journey toward healing after child loss by dedicating a run to their baby who is gone too soon.  It was this day one year ago when I called out for help as I approached my first Mother’s Day as a bereaved parent.  I asked people to dedicate a workout to Quinn and I received an overwhelming response that truly lifted my spirit.  I decided to carry forward this spirit of love and remembrance, and dedicate runs to other babies who have died.

As I wearily approached my second Mother’s Day as a bereaved parent, I was worried and stressed.  How could I face everyone’s happy families who got to see, touch, and hold all their children?  How would I manage my feelings of jealously for their wholeness that I face nearly every day? 

On this Mother’s Day, I dug deep to make it meaningful for me.  Instead of projecting my hurt on other people, I focused on being present with my family – which exists in life and death.  There was nothing more I wanted than to have a low key day with my living daughter and hang out by my deceased daughter’s memorial tree.  So that’s what we did.  It really warmed my heart to see Riley playing on the playground next to Quinn’s tree.  It is the one place I can go where both my daughters can (almost) be together.  Next, Josh installed the memorial plaque to Quinn’s tree, which made my heart sing.  There is something very healing about having public recognition of her name and life. 

In the afternoon I circled back to the milestone of this Mother’s Day and dedicated a run to not only my stillborn daughter Quinn, but to my living daughter Riley.  It was a day to remember and honor the fact that I am a mother to Quinn in death as much as I’m a mother to Riley in life.  

In the glorious sunshine, I took my full heart of love for Quinn and Riley onto the trail.  I made an early stop to take their picture together on Quinn’s tree in the park then continued on the trail that led me to the dense forest then open fields.  I delighted in the new blooms, which brought new scents on the trail.  To be able to revel in the wonder of nature while holding my daughters tightly in my heart is a true gift.

Although Mother’s Day will always be different than I had once dreamed, this year marked a little healing and a reminder to let love and light into my life.   

About run to heal:
I run to heal.  It’s where I learn to hold my grief in my heart as love.  It’s where I practice putting one foot in front of another.  It’s where I honor Quinn and other babies who are gone too soon from stillbirth, miscarriage, or neonatal death.  In preparation for my first Mother’s Day as a parent to both a living and dead child, I asked my friends and community to dedicate a workout to Quinn.  This was a powerful, soulful, and healing experience.  I felt lifted up and loved by the community.  I was humbled that so many people carried Quinn’s spirit with them.  I hope to accompany others on their journey after child loss and hold them and their son or daughter in my heart.  It is an opportunity for me to honor their child and learn their story.  Together, we will learn how to put one foot in front of the other and run to heal.  Dedicate a run here.