Remaining Men Together

14 Jun

Last night found us at a support group for bereaved parents, you know, like us.  I’m not exactly sure what it’s called, but something like Failed Pregnancies, which is about as appropriate as anything, I guess.

It was surprising.  I can’t exactly put my finger on why or what was so surprising about it, maybe the fact that it was small (only about 8 or 9 attendees) or maybe because no one there looked like parents of dead children.  In fact, they didn’t really look like anything other than the sort of people in front of you or behind you at the grocery store.

Sharon, the organizer, invited everyone ahead of time to share their “stories” and I suppose I was expecting something along the lines of Hello, I’m Gloria and this is my husband Chester.  We were just so excited about our pregnancy and so shocked when we discovered a heart defect at 18 weeks.  It’s been 3 months since we lost our baby and each day is still a struggle.  We named him Kilroy.

This most definitely wasn’t that. The stories were epically lengthy and hugely detailed. And when I say detailed, I mean medically. I can tell you all about these ladies’ vaginas. Not to mention their cervixes, placentas, amniotic fluids and so on. But most of all, I can tell you everything that went wrong with their unborn children. From the nuances in the doctors’ tones of voices to the phone calls with grandma to which episode of what was playing on television the morning their water broke.

Grief is strange and interesting and scary. We’re a group of people who have very little in common other than the fact that we’re reluctant members of a local chapter of a very big international community: we’re all in the the Dead Baby Club. And we’re all there because of this big, weird, sticky-yellow thing with tentacles and 1,000 little eyes called Grief. And we’re trying everything to get it to leave us alone. From curling up in a ball, fingers in our ears, to embracing it full-on, to ignoring it altogether, to laughing at it, to feeding it, to starving it, to yelling and screaming and hacking away at its shitty limbs, even though brand new ones appear to regrow almost immediately. The only thing that seems to satisfy this prick is the last thing any of us want to give it: lots and lots and lots of time.

Eventually, it was our turn to talk. I wasn’t sure what to say and I stumbled around a little before admitting I’d never been in a support group and the whole thing felt weird to me. “Like that scene from Fight Club, where all those men with testicular cancer are sitting in a circle talking about how much they miss their balls,” I told them.

Carey told our story better than I did and she cried. And nearly everyone else there cried too. We were hoping that the more seasoned people in the group would say something about how much easier it is now than it was 9 days after their babies died, but they didn’t. One or two women mentioned how difficult it can be when well-meaning people say things that don’t entirely help, like the old “remember, the Bible tells us that God will never give you more than you can handle” and other gems. I suppose Carey and I have been fairly fortunate in that regard, by the way. Nearly all encouragements and sympathies we’ve been given have been genuinely encouraging and sympathetic, which helps a lot.

(Side tangent, though, because it’s a pet peeve of mine: the bible doesn’t say anything about not giving us more than we can handle. It’s true; I looked it up and everything. It mentions something about how God will never allow us to be tempted us beyond what we can bear (1Cor. 10:13), but that’s a different thing entirely. End/rant.)

Eventually I chimed in again: “It pisses me off. All of you seem to be really nice people who deserve your babies. Doesn’t it piss you off?”

Vigorous nods.

“I think I might be starting a season of anger here which I’m really not excited about, but it seems inevitable and, you know, I’d rather just skip it. I don’t want to be an angry person. But I went back to work today for the first time since our children died and it made me really really upset that I’d be driving home soon and when I got there my kids wouldn’t be there. It’s stupid. We’re just people, we’re not equipped for this. I WANT MY SONS BACK.”

I suppose mini-tirades are what support groups are for.

One of the moms in the group recalled a story where a woman lost her child and the hospital gave her a discarded Pampers box to keep her mementos in. Since then, her “ministry” I guess, she paints decorative boxes and gives them to parents who’ve gone through what we went through. In fact, we were given one of her boxes the day Rudyard, Desmond and Oscar were born and passed and it’s meant a lot to us. It was nice to be able to thank her for it.

I suppose we’ll go back. It’s more helpful in hindsight than it was in the moment, but I’m glad we were able to meet these people. I hope to stay in touch with them and I really hope Carey stays in touch with them.

I think we’ll need them.


Speaking of needs, I’ve had an ever-mounting pile of guilt the past week and a half over failing to adequately respond to the beautiful words, prayers and desperately-needed encouragements Carey and I have received, particularly online. Frankly, in this, the hardest thing we’ve every experienced, neither of us have ever encountered anything like the outpouring of love and support we’ve been lucky enough to receive.

I know I’m a broken record here, but thank you. Even now, we return to our blogs and our Facebook pages when we’re in our darkest moments and it helps every time, particularly when we share them out loud to each other.

But it’s not just kind notes. We received some gorgeous flower arrangements that have brightened our home and lifted our spirits. “I’m so happy people have been kind enough to get us flowers,” I told Carey a couple of days ago. “It’s pretty and thoughtful and, best of all, temporary.”

She knew what I meant. While framed poems and knickknacks and other sentimental objects can be great, there’s a stressful side to it too. We’re doing our best to continue the home-purge that began months ago because the new Bear Family Mantra is “Live With Less”. And more stuff can easily turn into more to manage because we feel too guilty packing it away or, god forbid, getting rid of any mementos from this period of our lives.

And then there’s the food.

I can’t tell you how sweet it’s been the last couple of weeks to not have to worry about where our meals are coming from or making time to purchase or prepare them. People just keep showing up to the house to drop off lunches and dinners and snacks and desserts and groceries. And not McDonald’s, either. Good stuff, real food. I don’t think we’ve ever eaten better in our lives. The generosity has been overwhelming and, trust me, we’ve been taking full advantage. I mentioned to Carey the other day, after our friend Christy brought by a delicious meal from Ambrosia, “except for the grieving part, this really is the life, isn’t it?”

A couple of people have asked about “donations”, whether it’s for our bills or for a cause we’d want to support in the boys’ names. As far as our bills go, thankfully, we’re ok for the moment. In terms of a charity or something, we’ve been trying to think of something, but we’re really not sure. Carey in particular has a few different causes she’s passionate about, causes that we already give to regularly, especially the ones that involve kindness to animals and/or the environment. But we’re not sure if it’s strange or tacky to use what happened to us to draw attention to our particular missions. Admittedly, though, I don’t know how these things typically work. Erm, any thoughts?

Finally, there’s this very blog. I don’t know what to do with this place and, let’s face it, even the name of it now almost borders on insulting. I know of several other blogs that have made the unfortunate transition from Expectant Parent blog to Grief blog and I can’t decide if that’s what this should be.

But, fact is, our boys lived. They existed in the world and, however humble, their brief lives left an impact on the world. I’m hesitant to dismantle this site altogether.

At the very least, though, it really is time to take down our baby registry link and update the FAQ. You wouldn’t think something like that would take tremendous willpower to do, but it does.

Yes, we are Men.  Men is what we are.

Deep breaths.  Welcome to Grief.

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62 Responses to “Remaining Men Together”

  1. Rich Stahnke June 14, 2011 at 4:37 pm #

    Jer, I continue to be impressed and awed by your strength in the face of the situation. I’m glad that you and Carey have a strong support system and have now added others to it who truly know what you’re going through.

  2. Tarasview June 14, 2011 at 4:38 pm #

    it is entirely different but my husband and I went to a support group for parents of autistic children and I remember thinking how strange the whole thing was… but I think people (maybe women more than men?) need to talk about their grief in order to actually process it. I don’t know. But I do know being a part of that group has been very helpful for us.

    I am so so so very sorry for your loss.

    oh- and I think giving people the option to donate to the charity of your choice is just a way for people to show that they care. It is certainly a very common practice where we are (Ontario, Canada).

  3. Tabitha June 14, 2011 at 4:49 pm #

    Hi there,

    My heart goes out to both of you and I don’t even know you. I came across your blog a few weeks ago, around the time of your ‘Diction’ post. I’ve been checking it every few days since and well, I’m not sure what to say. I just wanted you both to know that even from over here in Australia, my husband and I are praying for both of you. I am so sorry for your loss and I can’t begin to imagine how you feel.

    I hope it’s not too strange for a random person to be commenting on your post.

    Thinking of you from Australia, Tabitha

  4. amanda smith June 14, 2011 at 4:50 pm #

    jeremy & carey – you’ve never far from my heart and mind these days. whatever sort of comfort you find in each other, in friends, in strangers about whom you have intimate uterine knowledge…i am thankful that the burden can be, however inadequately, shared a teeny tiny bit. though many years and miles separate us now, please know that i sneak moments in my day to poke at the ghastly eyes and hack at the shitty limbs of your grief with whispered prayers for some measure of solace for you both. much love – amanda

  5. Lauren Martin June 14, 2011 at 4:52 pm #

    Thanks for posting and I’m glad you went to a group. I hope you guys keep going, at least as long as it’s helpful to you. I wish we could be there “in the flesh” for you ALL the time. I’m glad you commented on the “God not giving us more than we can bear” thing. I’ve often thought that myself. Actualy Tricia (Lott) Williford has a blog post about that very issue, and the fact that it’s not in the Bible. It was interesting. Love you, still praying, and grieving with you. Can’t wait to see you soon.

  6. Rachel June 14, 2011 at 5:13 pm #

    I am so glad that you were able to find a support group to attend. Being able to talk to other people who have also suffered a loss has helped me. Just knowing someone else understands helps the healing process.

    I would like to invite you to visit a new site I have set up. It is an Pregnancy and Infant Loss Blog Directory. I have created this as a way to help connect families and begin to help in the healing process. Reading about other people who have also lost a child has been very healing for me. I have created a category for dads and was wondering if you would like to include your blog in the directory. The web address is http://paildirectory.blogspot.com/ Please stop by and submit your blog if you are interested.

    There are so very few men who blog especially about the loss of a child. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  7. Peggy June 14, 2011 at 5:27 pm #

    I’ve been so touched by everything you’ve written about your boys and your process. The thing is that our culture has no idea what to do with grief around losing a baby. The pain – unbearable. Yet it’s so hidden. Here are all these normal people who have faced pain to bring them to their knees, as have you both. I am glad that you’ve found a group to talk to – at least there’s someone who understands, really understands, this new world that you’re so unwillingly thrust into.

    I’m touched by the beautiful stories of your boys. What a lovely tribute to them. I’m so glad you introduced them to us and I’m so glad that I had a chance to read about them. Thank you for sharing something so personal with people you don’t even know. Tears streamed down my face as I read about each one, their entrance to the world and the grace with which they left it, all too soon but clearly knowing the love of their parents. Their memories will live on because you shared them with others. Their lives mattered. The question is how to continue with your own. I don’t know how one goes on, but I’ve experienced the kind of grief that made me wonder how someone could feel all this and not die from it, and I guess it just becomes a part of you. I don’t know if that’s true for losing a child, but I imagine that somehow it gets encapsulated though still with you where it’s always there but perhaps doesn’t rub raw constantly any longer but only an ache that stays, rather like a grain of sand becomes a pearl.

    Because of my own preemies, I’ve been involved with a group from GAPPS, the Global Alliance for Preventing Prematurity and Stillbirth (gapps.org) who are doing a lot of research on issues about pregnancy complications and reducing them and preventing neonatal deaths that can be prevented. I’ve spoken with many people through their groups who have lost babies. I think that you don’t forget, and the loss is always there, but it does seem that keeping your boys’ memories alive and talking about them is better than what our culture says, which is to get over it and move on. All that does is move the pain to a place deep inside, someplace where it can’t transform into a part of your life that is always there, but perhaps that won’t, someday, bring the same kind of raw aching pain that you feel today.

    As for your blog, as with so much, it doesn’t have to be decided today. You can see how things go and change as you feel you need to. I paused when you mentioned the part about its name being insulting. I don’t think so. Every person begins a pregnancy with hope, and our culture leads us to believe that no matter what, all will be fine. We never consider an outcome other than “perfect.” It’s not allowed as a thought. So in some ways, it’s still a tip on triplets. I hope that doesn’t come off as strange, but really, when I was pregnant with my triplets, no one understood how serious it all was, it’s medically very difficult to have triplets. I’m just heartbroken that yours ended with losing those beautiful boys, your precious sons. Thank you for continuing the conversation.

  8. amanda June 14, 2011 at 5:30 pm #

    Dear Jeremy & Carey,
    I cannot tell you how many times during each day your names come into my thoughts. I wish with the very core of who I am that you didn’t have to go down this road. What I can do, and what I continue to do, is to pray for you, to wack at those shitty limbs, and to push it back away from you. I will continue to do that.
    Reading your words as you journey through this unfathomable haul has been a touchstone for me, and I’m sure for others who read it as well. I can’t be there with you, but I can be here for you. I so hope you continue to write out your thoughts as you work your way through them. I do. Because, as a writer, I feel like sometimes seeing what I feel in print is the only way to really have it register to me what I’m going through….for those moments when nothing makes sense and it’s all a tangled mess of just plain wrong….seeing it written out seems to help a bit.
    Please know that I’m praying for you.
    Manda

  9. Erin Burtoft June 14, 2011 at 5:43 pm #

    Jer,
    I am so, so sorry that you had to come home from work on Monday to a house without your sons. It is painful for me to even think of–I can’t imagine living it. I am glad that you guys have found a support group and hope that the people in the group can help in ways that your family cannot. I am glad to hear also that people are bringing you and Carey food–I’ve been worrying about that a lot. Not being able to cook for you can Carey, or DO anything for you two has been hard, and I am just so relieved that many others have stepped in to help.

    I am sorry that you are attending a support group instead of holding your children. For the record, I agree that this triplets blog is still so important. Your triplet boys DID live, they are still at this very moment impacting lives, and they will always be your children. They are still the triplets. One of my deepest regrets in life to this point is that I never had the chance to meet them, hold them, and talk to them. They are however still changing my life and life views. They have changed the world.

    • Laura @ Our House Of Joyful Noise June 14, 2011 at 6:06 pm #

      Hi Jeremy & Carey – I just found your blog tonight, when someone on Twitter, had re-tweeted, a tweet someone else had re-tweeted,of a tweet someone else……you get the idea. I’d say it means there is a gazillion people thinking of you both and praying for you, right now.

      I have been reading here at your blog tonight, for quite awhile. If I hadn’t seen you, Jeremy, say something about anyone being afraid they might say the wrong thing, and to not be, I wouldn’t be typing right now. I’m terrified to say a word. I personally always notice requests for prayers, for those in pain or struggle. And I do indeed pray. But that’s not the only reason I noticed the that tweet tonight. I think it caught my attention mostly, because I am a mama of triplets. My hearts is completely breaking for you tonight, over the loss of your Bear Boys here on earth with you.

      I used to be pretty active on TTC. So I know of the many triplet pregnancy stories, that have ended so sadly, in different ways. I spent my entire pregnancy (6 months on complete bed rest), praying like mad, our babies would beat those odds, and bargaining w/ God for it to happen. I got my way, so to speak, but as blessed as I have always felt, and have spent every day trying to keep my end of ‘the deal’, I have felt real guilt. Why us? I know we didn’t deserve a happier outcome, any more than anyone else. I wanted for every other expectant couple, the same ending we had. There is such a sense of humbleness/shame(?), in being able to keep all 3 of your babies. Not a day goes by, that I wonder if God thought I really was too weak, to handle any other outcome. I certainly told Him every day, not to make me strong, THAT way. It’s been almost 9 years, and I still can’t believe they are here. I love them more than anything, as you do your babies. It’s like a knife in my heart, every time I read a story, like yours.

      Well I didn’t intend to say so much. I never do, but always end up going on forever. My heart is just so filled with grief for you tonight. I wish I had the words to help heal your hearts, and bring you peace. I wish I had known you, and lived near you, to be able to offer a special service that could have comforted you maybe, someday, in some way. But I really just wanted to let you know, my thoughts & prayers will forever, forever be with you, and your Bear Boys. May God bless you all, and bring you peace.

  10. Marcie distefano June 14, 2011 at 5:51 pm #

    I wish I could put my arms around you 2 and tell you it will be okay an that the hurt will subside but I have no idea what that pain is like. I hope that this life has greater things for you in the future regardless of the form these things may come in. Much love to you…

  11. Liz June 14, 2011 at 6:18 pm #

    I am so, so sorry. This post is so beautiful and illustrates the messiness of grief so well. Thank you for writing it – it helps me and I’m sure it will help others.

  12. K June 14, 2011 at 6:18 pm #

    Again, your words have brought me to tears. It is strange to say this, because I really don’t know you or Carey and because I feel like a stalker of sorts for saying this, but in my months of reading your blog, I felt like I got to know you two and care about you. And now I am sad for you but also so very proud of you. (That’s not too weird, I hope.) I am proud because you are strong. This sucks so much. It isn’t fair. It isn’t what you wanted or expected. It is so impressive that you have continued to conenct with the people around you (in “real” life and in the imaginary internet world as well). You have supported each other gracefully and passionately.

    I am so sorry that this happened, but I sincerely hope you both continue to feel love and encouragement from every angle.

  13. Amy van kleeck June 14, 2011 at 6:24 pm #

    Still praying for you as you get to know yourselves as entirely new and different people. People who know the gut wrenching, life changing, pain of grief. Still reminding you to close your eyes, take a deep breath and rest into His molding hands. It does get better. But OH! It does take time. Amy

  14. Stephanie June 14, 2011 at 6:38 pm #

    You don’t know me at all but I have been thinking about you guys a lot this week. Its so unfair what happened to you and your wife and your sons. The names that you gave your little sons are so beautiful and I know that you wish more than anything that one day you would get to scream their names out the backdoor for them to come running in to dinner. A dear friend of mine lost a child several years ago and I know she continues to struggle. When she sees a kid his age or hears a mother call his name. It just sucks.

    The March of Dimes is a great charity. They are trying to end premature birth and the devestating effects that it can have on babies.

  15. RoseAnneH June 14, 2011 at 6:53 pm #

    I am another one of those complete strangers who was introduced to you as prayers went out for you during those most desperate days. I have cried for you and prayed for you. I am so grateful for your honesty in your grief as it has helped me to understand a little bit better the grief a close friend of mine is still experiencing after losing her husband to cancer at the age of 31 two years ago. Thank you for sharing so much with us. Know that we cry with you and pray for the day that the sun begins to shine for you again.

  16. Kelli June 14, 2011 at 7:22 pm #

    My husband and I joined this rotten club in February. I hate it, and I hate that anyone else joins it. We’re muddling through, and it sounds as if you are, too. I’m praying for your strength as you figure out how to live life on the other side of this experience without your boys.

  17. Shelby Cherry June 14, 2011 at 8:20 pm #

    Although I don’t know you or Carey, your family continues to be in my thoughts and prayers many times each day. It’s a little odd to write this, but I’ve grown to love both of you, as well as your sons and their sweet souls. When I visit your blog, I feel their presence and it’s comforting. I, for one, would love the opportunity to be able to click on a button here and make a donation to one of the causes you support. Being able to honor them in this manner would be a privilege. Rudyard, Desmond, and Oscar Bear — thank you for touching my life and the lives of so many others.

  18. carathielvoldt June 14, 2011 at 8:39 pm #

    I am grateful you have such a nice network of people to help you through this. I definitely think writing helps, especially if you have the talent and insight that you do in writing about the memories and stories. I wish I could help you through this more than I can here. I say this is the time to do whatever the hell you want and not worry about being polite, rude, cheap, angry, hurt, etc (not that you have been any of these, just saying don’t waste your energy on caring about those things). Focus on you, and your lovely lady and what you want. That is all that matters and all of us know that that is all that should matter. We all just want to do what we can to help you and Carey and be there for you when you need us. ❤

  19. Alana-isms June 14, 2011 at 8:58 pm #

    Continuing to think and pray for you, Carey, and your boys…

  20. Christy R June 14, 2011 at 10:06 pm #

    As always, you’re still in our thoughts and prayers.

  21. tracey June 14, 2011 at 10:31 pm #

    Beautiful post again. The people at your support group didn’t tell you that it gets easier so I will. Not easy, but easier. In the mean time, be kind to yourselves and do whatever it takes to get through. Thinking of you.

  22. Liz June 14, 2011 at 10:33 pm #

    This is probably the worst situation that could ever happen but just remember that every day that passes… You are another day stronger. God has great plans for you and Carey. Keep faith and keep your heads up. That’s what the boys would have wanted.

  23. Steph June 14, 2011 at 11:04 pm #

    Jer, I can’t even bear knowing that you’re back at work while trying to cope with this. I can’t stand for you two to be apart right now. When Saturday came, I hoped to myself that the worst week you will ever have is over. I’ve told you over and over, but your frank, engaging, thoughtful writing is a huge gift to everyone who cares about you and I hope it is also affording you a little bit of an outlet as you begin this nasty process of grieving. Thinking of you both constantly and grieving along with you.

  24. Delaney June 15, 2011 at 3:41 am #

    You hang in there. I came to know your story very late after a friend posted on Facebook what was happening, but even so, I feel very fortunate to have shared even this small amount of time with you and Carey. I pray for you and think of you often. I think of your boys too. You’ve given us — the observers of your grief — a way to participate in your grief as well, and I’m honored by that.

  25. Chloe June 15, 2011 at 5:51 am #

    There is nothing like strength in numbers for taking on the hideous grief monster. The two (five) of you clearly have so much love and support, and it’s so crucial. And you know what else? The support group people may not have said it, but for me, it HAS gotten easier. It was hard to believe it could, but it’s surprised me how much easier.

    The process will be personal to you, and nobody can tell you what to expect or when. But the stages, will trade places and pass into the next. I hope the season of anger doesn’t last too long. It’s an especially tough one. One of my big breakthroughs was this – try not to feel badly about anything you feel. You have every right to be angry.

  26. Jen June 15, 2011 at 6:51 am #

    Your post has brought me to tears once again. It’s nice to hear that you have a wonderful support system and they feed you well!

  27. mollychristina June 15, 2011 at 8:03 am #

    I’m so glad you mentioned the “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” line…that annoys me to no end too. Who wants to follow a God who thinks you can handle something like this? I know after our miscarriages we had a lot of people say dumb things meant to be nice. “That baby must not of been strong enough to make it. It’s for the best. You’re young, you can try again.” Ick. Blah.

    I too went through that angry period. It’s the first time in my life I had truly been really, really mad at God. I guess the main thing I learned through that period was that it was okay. God can handle my pain and my anger. And once it subsides, He’s still there, still loving me. So, for what it’s worth, that’s my lesson learned.

    My heart still aches for you every single day. Continuing to cry out to God to hold you close and carry you through.

  28. Chantelle Lassak June 15, 2011 at 8:15 am #

    You both are so brave and courageous. And if there is anything I’ve learn thru loss, it’s to KEEP THE BLOG and share your feelings, your sadness, your anger. Please remember its not about continually moving forward, nor is it about stages…it’s a circle. Sometimes you swing a little higher on the circle and sometimes you swing backwards…its all OK; you need to feel it all or you will never heal any of the grief and hurt. One day, the grief will come full circle. The shitty part is that is takes a year. Give yourselves the time you need to FEEL everything….and PLEASE, oh PLEASE keep the blog. Change what you need to: name, FAQs, etc. It is healing and feels good..promise. So sorry for your tremendous loss. Thinking you and your boys often! xoxo

  29. Bob W. June 15, 2011 at 8:32 am #

    Jeremy,
    I am so sorry about what happened. Words are never adequate in situations like this. You know your Mom and I are here to support you in any way we can. You and Carey are in our thoughts continuously. Unfortunately, there is no getting around grief, there is only getting through it. We love you both.

    Even in our sleep
    Pain which cannot forget
    Falls drop by drop upon the heart
    Until, in our own despair,
    Against our will,
    Comes wisdom
    Through the awful grace of God.

    — Aeschylus

  30. Allison Wunderland June 15, 2011 at 8:48 am #

    Please banish the guilt. We all know you’re overwhelmed. I appreciate that you’re both staying in touch via your blogs. Updating us on how you’re doing is the best thing you can do for us.

  31. Casey Risley June 15, 2011 at 8:55 am #

    My heart goes out to both of you and I continue to say a prayer (or two, or three) for all five of you on a daily basis. I hope that you don’t mind my stating my opinion too much, but as a member of the multiples community, please consider keeping your blog going. You are a father to triplets and always will be. As parents of multiples, we all have our challenges (yours being the hardest kind) and that is what this community is really here for, to support each other when we need it. Please consider remaining a part of our little community so that we may continue to support you and your wonderful wife and, of course, your three amazing sons. Words cannot express how sorry I am for your loss and pray that the Lord takes good care of your boys until you can see each other again!

  32. Tarah June 15, 2011 at 9:18 am #

    I’m so very sorry, Jeremy. We have grieved with you. I meant to post and tell you on the last entry how perfect I think the names of your boys are. My favorite name had to be Desmond (being a die-hard Lost fan), but each one was special and wonderful. I continue to pray that God will be close to you both as you travel this incredibly difficult road. Thank you for sharing some of it with us.

  33. Stephanie Whittington June 15, 2011 at 9:28 am #

    I don’t know you guys at all, but I found your blog a couple of weeks ago. I read that Carey has lupus and I do, also. I’ve been praying for you. I share a birthday with your boys. The post you wrote about them was remarkable. You gave them a lifetime worth of love in the time they were with you. I hope you’ll keep the blog so that we can follow you on your journey. I feel certain it will connect you with people who will encourage you as you walk this hard work. The Bible DOESN’T say that God won’t give you more than you can handle…you’re right about that. In fact, He often does give you more. But He does that so that you will lean on Him. You can’t do it on your own.

  34. Chloe June 15, 2011 at 3:46 pm #

    The new header gets me all choked up.

    • modvegan June 16, 2011 at 8:18 am #

      I started bawling when I saw it.

      • Erin Burtoft June 16, 2011 at 6:54 pm #

        Me too.

    • Bonnie June 17, 2011 at 11:21 am #

      Agreed 😦 So sorry that you have to go through this! Praying for you and your family.

  35. Brandy June 15, 2011 at 4:10 pm #

    Yes, welcome. Wasn’t going to comment but figured I should. I’m a blogger and blogged before pregnancy, during, and now after in this grief. It’s not pretty or attractive, but it’s real. Reading how others were/are coping has gotten me through some seriously hard days. Even if you don’t update, please keep it. People should be able to see that sadness does occur and that your (our) babies matter. Like you said, they LIVED.

    Not a sappy chick and I don’t like clutter either. Just know how important it is that we keep it real in the dead baby club.

  36. Steph June 15, 2011 at 6:22 pm #

    Yes, the new header is heartbreaking. The way you are keeping it so real on this blog (and in general) is really refreshing and so helpful for those of us who want to know how you really are. I so appreciate the absence of platitudes and smoothing over, and the rawness of what is really going on. You are both inspiring real understanding in every reader. It’s an understanding we all hoped never to have but now that it is your experience, you are helping us to share it with you. Grief of this magnitude is somewhat surreal, but maybe it’s also as real as it gets. Again, thinking of you constantly and sending love.

  37. Mandy June 15, 2011 at 6:29 pm #

    I came across your blog today and I read for the longest time. I cried for a long while, my heart breaking for you guys, and cried as I shared with my husband your story about your little boys. Your story is reaching so many people and you have so many people praying for you (my husband and myself included). I cannot even imagine the grief of the situation… But know that there are people praying for you two.

  38. Allie June 15, 2011 at 6:41 pm #

    My prayers are with you and your wife, God Bless you both!

  39. A June 15, 2011 at 6:47 pm #

    A lot of us readers don’t know what to say. I wish I could write something to help lift you up, but I don’t know what that would be. Please keep writing, if you can.

  40. Julie Fallon June 15, 2011 at 7:45 pm #

    I just read about your sweet boys for the first time tonight. I am praying for you and your family and hope that peace and comfort surround you.

  41. Rachel June 15, 2011 at 7:47 pm #

    I’m just reading your blog for the first time (came over from She Breathes Deeply) and I just wanted to tell you, you and your little family are in my prayers! I’m so very sorry for your loss.

  42. Brittany June 15, 2011 at 7:56 pm #

    My heart goes out to you. There are tears in my eyes just thinking about how hard this must be for you and your wife. I wish you both strength and plenty of love in this time of grief. ❤

  43. Hanna June 16, 2011 at 2:00 am #

    Hi,

    I’m an reader (from Germany) from “She breathes deeply” and I’m so sad for you and want to send you so much love and strength and blessings and prayers!!!!

    Love,
    Hanna

  44. StayatHomeTripletDad June 16, 2011 at 4:39 am #

    I think, as I believe many do, that if you choose to continue blogging whether that be on tipsontrips or another blog we will continue to follow your journey through this broken and fallen world. IMO that is why bad things happen to good people, Adam and Eve ate from the apple and thus we muddle through trying to stay on THE path while others try to make us take other paths. IMO God does not wish any misery on anyone but he can bring good out of bad.

    Your writing is witty, insightful and frankly, addictive:) As far as I can tell your writing rivals your art, which is amazing. In short, do what you feel led to do. We want what is best for you and your family.

    From us to you……. prayers.

    Al

  45. Maeve Rachel June 16, 2011 at 5:16 am #

    My heart, my prayers and my thoughts go to you and your wife. You are both incredibly strong people. I am truly sorry for your loss. I hope you can find comfort in the fact that ye have each other, your wife and you are an incredible couple. I wish ye both all the best for the present and the future.

  46. Rach June 16, 2011 at 9:32 am #

    Praying for you.

  47. Rachel K June 16, 2011 at 9:48 am #

    Jeremy, just like all the other posters who feel endeared to you though they don’t know you; I know you, but barely, and from reading your experiences as you write about them so honestly, it’s so freaking hard to not care for you guys and feel like I know you better than I really do! I laugh with you and cry with you as you pour out all the awkward moments and heartbreaking realities of what you are going through. I hope that’s not strange. I cried once again as I read this blog. My heart goes out! I’m so sad for your loss, and grateful for the support you are finding. Like RoseAnneH said above, I also cry with you and pray for the day that the sun begins to shine for you again.

  48. val gould June 16, 2011 at 12:52 pm #

    I know that my words can offer little comfort to you. I found your blog only today via another blogger and read your blog from start to finish. the journey was amazing! I was sucked in to your writing and stories. I cant even begin to understand what you are going through and I wont pretend too. But I can tell you that your story has touched me deeply as someone who had been unable to concieve , then when it finally happened I lost the baby. you and carey will be in my thoughts and prayers. I wish I could do more to ease your pain even though I’ve never met you. If all I have to give you is my warmest thoughts to comfort you in this time then I can do that. Know that you and carey are brave and strong, blessed more than words to have met those sweet little boys. They are lucky to have you as parents. I hope you continue to write somewhere and express your grief. I will be there with you offering comforting prayers where I can.
    Thank you for sharing your story, For being sincere and brave.
    May you find comfort and peace.
    My thoughts are with you both.

  49. Jennifer Petry June 16, 2011 at 1:06 pm #

    For some reason it struck me to check on your and your wife to see how you were doing. Thank you for giving your sons such wonderful eulogies. You are an amazing dad!
    I am sure this Sunday will be an especially difficult one, so I will continue my prayers for you and your family.

  50. pyjammy June 16, 2011 at 2:02 pm #

    Oh man. To see your blog now breaks my heart all over again, but at the same time, I’m glad you’re still going to be around. I wish I had something wise and touching to say like everyone else, but just know yall are never far from my thoughts.

  51. jess June 16, 2011 at 6:54 pm #

    My heart is broken with yours.
    Words are inadequate.
    I am so sorry.

  52. Dan S. June 16, 2011 at 9:47 pm #

    Thanks for sharing your story and I’m so sorry for your loss.

  53. Dana June 16, 2011 at 10:36 pm #

    Jeremy,

    Thank you for your kind words about the memory box I made. It makes me incredibly happy to know it went to wonderful people.

    I’ve been going to that support group for almost a year. It took me a few months (and several meltdowns) to go and I’ve only missed a few meetings here and there. What I’ve noticed is that people come and go. People go when they feel the need and some people, like me, go because it’s a chance to talk about my son and remember him. I have not gone through a meeting without shedding a tear. I will say the pain of losing him has leveled off to a dull ache and some days are definitely better than others.

    Like I said before you and Carey left, please keep writing. It’s something that has been cathartic to me, even though I haven’t written as much as I’d like to. I hope to remedy that over the summer, too. And, If you don’t mind, I’m going to add your website to mine.

    Take care,

    Dana

  54. Rachel Joiner June 16, 2011 at 11:07 pm #

    Dear Jeremy and Carey,

    When Isaiah was born I remember holding him for the first time and looking in his face. I was overwhelmed by the peaceful countenance on his face. He laid there perfectly sound; trusting that I would hold him just right; trusting that I would support his head just so; trusting that I would feed him and clean him and keep him warm and pay for his college. He assumed that all he had to do was cry and I would do everything in my power to meet his needs. I was simultaneously overwhelmed by my own inadequacies, my own ignorance, and my own inexperience in caring for a baby. The irony of these two truths colliding together reminded me of an opposite irony.
    I am so often afraid to trust God with my own needs, my own desires, and my own weaknesses. Yet there is no more capable and knowledgeable and experienced Father in all of existence. I have no clue why God did not allow you to watch your tiny boys grow into men. All I know is that if you cry He will hear you. He has resources we cannot imagine and plans we cannot possibly understand. So let Him have it! Show him your anger. Cry and wail and soak him with your tears. He can take it and He wants to. I HATE that you are going through this and I don’t know what else to do but pray. I am compelled to go to HIM and yet HE allowed this!? It is inexplicable and awful now but this is far from over and it will not always be awful. I can’t say anything else because I don’t know anything else.
    As for the blogs, personally, I don’t think you should end them or change them. They are what they are. As much as I hate it they are your stories. We rejoiced with you in the joyful news and we mourn with you in your deepest loss. In some ways “Tips on Triplets” is a very appropriate title for you have had to face EVERY parent’s worst fears head on. You are in a place that every parent dreads. Maybe you will have more advice one day than you realize now.
    My heart is with you both and I am praying.

  55. Kelli Briscoe June 20, 2011 at 2:26 pm #

    Just wanted to offer my love and support and of course more tears to the pile. Reading your words makes me appreciate my 3 children so so so much more. Thank you for that. i hope you keep writing here, and maybe eventually change the name, but no one is expecting you to. We just want to be here for you guys. ❤

  56. Cristie June 20, 2011 at 11:21 pm #

    I’m glad you are still blogging. You are going through a tremendous process that most of us can’t even imagine. I still cry for you guys. And sometimes I wonder why this type of hurt has to happen, especially to good people…and then I get angry too. I miscarried twice and always wondered why me? Why can’t I have a baby to love when there are horrible people out there who dont deserve children. I guess that is not for me to know. Anyway, I hope the blogging is helping you as a way to deal with your grief. What about the march of dimes as a charity for you to recommend? Wishing you both healing and love.

  57. Chantel June 22, 2011 at 7:15 am #

    I am so sorry about the loss of your beautiful men. I lost my son at 40 weeks due to a cord issue, a bit over 5 years ago now. June 4th was his due date, he was born still on May 31st.

    I sat in those support groups, desperate for someone to tell me that you will feel better. Here I am, 5 years later, and things are better, but never ever the same. I am ‘used’ to my loss. It is part of me, it has shaped who I am. I am forever changed by Curtis. The absolute shock is no longer there, we have done so much in his memory. He is forever a part of us.

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