Should vs. Would

After we lost Riley, we stayed with my in-laws for a few months. When we came back to Provo, and our ward, one of the hardest things for me was seeing the babies that were born around the same time as Riley. As I watched them grow and develop, I often thought things like "Riley should be crawling by now. Riley should have teeth by now. Riley should be eating Cheerios. Riley should be learning to stand and walk. Riley should be here." I think should is a dangerous word. It implies that things aren't the way they are supposed to be, and can lead to anger and frustration. After much prayer, I finally reached a point where I was able to accept that this was God's will; this was how it was supposed to be, even if it wasn't how I wanted it to be. I decided to stop using the word should, because I didn't want to feel contrary to the Lord's plan. I still look at the children that were born around the time Riley was born. It's still hard for me at times, but my thoughts have changed. Now I think things like "Riley would be running around and climbing on everything. Riley would be in nursery. Riley would be talking and singing. Riley would be so big. If he were here." But he's not here, and that's okay, because I know he is in the spirit world, working hard. I'm sure I will always think about what Riley would be doing if he were still here, but I have accepted that he is exactly where God wants and needs him and that he's doing all the things he should be doing. And during the Millennium, I will have the opportunity to raise my beautiful boy, and he will do all these things.

Enjoying Every Moment

One of the most painful things for me after losing Riley was remembering all the times I didn't spend with him. All the times when he cried to be held, but I was so concerned about getting dinner cooked, or getting the dishes washed. To this day, these memories still break my heart. Even worse are the memories of when I was impatient with him, times when I just wanted a moment to myself. What I wouldn't give now for another moment with my sweet boy. I wish I could cuddle with him and get his big open-mouth kisses; I wish I could tickle him and hear his laughter. I even wish I could wake up in the middle of the night to his crying; I wish I could change his stinky, messy diapers.

All that being said, I'm ashamed to admit that I sometimes get impatient with Bekka, when I know I should just be enjoying every moment I have with her. A couple weeks ago, our cousins' son was admitted to the PICU because a blood vessel had burst in his spinal cord. This has been a rough and scary experience for a lot of reasons, but it's made even harder by the fact that our cousins already suffered the loss of one of their daughters a few years ago. And it is their healing baby, the one who helped heal their hearts after their loss, that is now in the hospital. When I found out about their boy being hospitalized I was overwhelmed with so many emotions. Among those emotions were fear and regret. You never, ever imagine that you will lose a child. But even more so, you never, never imagine losing another child. The thought that I might outlive Bekka scared me so much, and I was immediately filled with regret for all the moments with her that I haven't enjoyed. I'll admit, there have been times when she has been crying and I have gotten so frustrated and impatient. I feel so ashamed at how easily I can forget how I would give anything to hear Riley crying again. I'm not perfect, and I'm sure I'll slip up again, but for now I have a renewed determination to enjoy ever single moment with my baby girl -- even if she's crying or her diaper is leaking or anything else that might not otherwise be considered enjoyable.

I hope with all my heart that Bekka lives a long, healthy, wonderful life. I hope that all my future children will outlive me as well. But if the unimaginable happens, if God calls home another child of mine, I never want to have any regrets about how I spent my time with them. I want to live my life so that I can say that I enjoyed every moment I had with my children.

Effects on Marriage

Well, in light of Valentine's Day, I have been thinking a lot about my marriage and how losing our son has affected it. Losing a child is one of those things that truly does make or break a marriage. It either tears you apart, or it makes you so strong and united that you can overcome anything that comes your way.

Losing a child can put a huge strain on a marriage. I think one of the big reasons behind this is that people grieve in different ways, and sometimes it's hard to understand our spouse's way. I have always been much more vocal about my emotions, and it is always really easy to tell what I am feeling. My actions are always a clear outward manifestation of my thoughts and feelings. My husband, on the other hand, keeps a lot of those kinds of things to himself. He will act pretty much exactly the same way, regardless of how he is feeling. I remember one of the worst fights we ever had was when I accused him of not being as sad about losing our son as I was. Of course, this was an incredibly stupid and hurtful accusation. I just expected him to act the same way I did. I think the biggest thing I learned from this is that you each really need to understand both how the other grieves and how you grieve. If you do this, you can each grieve the way you need to, but you will still be grieving together. Communication is so important to this process. You need to be able to express your thoughts and feelings (in a non-accusing way, as I learned) and be willing to understand how your spouse acts and feels.

I think one of the hardest things about losing a child to SIDS, or illness, or accident (or in other words, losing a child who has already spent some time with you) is that after they are gone, everything else about life is exactly the same. It makes you so much more acutely aware of their absence. When I saw the bed, I would remember all the times I snuggled with my little Riley. When I saw the car, I remembered when we brought him home, and I remembered the first trip we took to visit family. When I saw the arm chair, I would remember all the late-night feedings. And when I saw my husband, I remembered how very much our son looks like him. For the first few months after losing Riley, we stayed with my in-laws because I just couldn't bear to go back to a home where everything was the same, except my sweet baby was gone. It really is hard when you look at your spouse and all you can see in your mind is your baby.

It took a while, but eventually I got to the point where I considered the remembrances as tender mercies from the Lord. Small opportunities throughout the day to think about my dear son. Now when I look at my husband, I think about how our Riley will look when he grows up. Joseph Smith explained that we will get to raise our departed children during the Millennium. This knowledge gives me hope, and it makes it a happy experience for me to think about Riley all grown up -- because I know I will still get to see it. 

Anyway, I've taken enough tangents. The point of all this is that losing a child does put strain on a marriage. But if you are willing to be open and communicate with each other and try to understand each other, it will bring you closer together than you ever were before. Furthermore, as you both learn to rely on each other and on the Lord, you will feel a greater measure of love and commitment to your spouse. Even when I was being hormonal and emotional, I just remembered the my husband is Riley's daddy, and he needs both of us. And now that we have been blessed with a beautiful daughter, I just remember that no matte what, she needs us to be a strong, united couple so that we can be the best parents possible.

I can easily see how losing a child could lead people to give up on or run away from their marriage. But from experience I know that if you are willing to put in the effort, your marriage can emerge from the fires of opposition not only intact, but stronger than it ever was before. And there really is no feeling like knowing that no matter what comes your way, you and your spouse can get through it together with the Lord's help.

How Many Children Do You Have?

After losing Riley, we attended a support group where this topic came up. Someone will inevitably ask you, "How many children do you have?" Or in cases like mine where we lost our first child and are now raising our second, "Is this your first?" How do you answer a question like that? The answer: it depends.

My first thoughts were "Of course I'm always going to count Riley when I tell people. He's still one of my children, even if he isn't here right now. Being a 'SIDS Survivor' is a part of who I am, and there is no reason to hide that."

Today at stake conference, I was in the foyer with my daughter. Another woman came out with her baby and sat by me as our little ones played on the ground. "Is she your first?" she asked. In the split second I had to decide (taking longer would have made me seem either really rude or really stupid) I chose simply to say, "Yes." Part of me felt guilty. It was like my insides were screaming at me, "No, she isn't! She is your second. Riley is still your first!" But I decided that since I will probably never see this woman again, there was no point in creating an awkward situation that made her feel embarrassed or uncomfortable for asking. Besides, I am experiencing a lot of firsts with my daughter. She is the first baby I have had learn how to sit up. She will be the first child I will have crawl and walk and run. I do the same thing at the grocery store, where somebody always -- without fail! -- asks me something along those lines.

But whenever I meet somebody that I know I will see again -- whether that be a new neighbor, or someone new to the ward, or even a new doctor -- I am very straightforward about the fact that I do, indeed, have two children, and that one of them has passed away. Sure, most people wouldn't consider this a first-impression, get-to-know-you topic. But I do feel that anyone with whom I will repeatedly associate needs to know that this is part of my life, and has helped make me who I am today. But some people consider it a more private matter, and only share it with very close friends and family. And that is completely okay too.

So how will you respond when somebody asks you how many children you have? There really is no right or wrong answer. It is completely up to you, and what makes you feel comfortable. Don't be too concerned about how other people will respond. If it feels right to you to include your angel baby, then do it! If you feel that you should just tell them how many are still with you, then that's what you should say. If you feel like it would be lying not to tell them about your angel baby, but you don't really want to share it, you can just imagine the question as, "How many children do you have on earth?" or "Is this your first baby you have been able to raise?"

My Angel Baby

Two weeks into our marriage, I learned that we would be having a honeymoon baby. I could not have been more thrilled. From the moment I found out I was expecting, I loved our baby more than I have ever loved anyone. After nine months and three days of being married, we welcomed our beautiful baby boy into the world. From the very beginning, Riley was so bright and alert. He was the most perfect baby I could ever have imagined. He had Daddy's dimples, and Mommy's big, brown eyes, and a smile that could light up any room. You could not have met prouder parents than us. We spent four perfect months together. Then our lives changed forever.

To make a long and painful story short, we lost our darling prince to SIDS. I was 21 and my husband a mere few days over 23 when we buried our beloved Riley.

14 months and one baby later, I have experienced and learned so much. I hope that I can offer strength, support, and comfort to anyone else who has ever had to say an unexpected goodbye to a child.

Riley Allen Lund ~ June 1, 2009 - October 7, 2009