Take Your Shoes Off

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Welcome to stillbirthday.  Read below for our password, and for our copyright information.

Take Your Shoes Off

Stillbirthday is not just another website on the internet.

It is a place that holds life.  We at stillbirthday speak life.  We at stillbirthday honor life.  We at stillbirthday mourn life.

Parts of stillbirthday are password protected.  All of stillbirthday should be respected as if it were password protected.

Our stories are a first hand account of possibly our darkest of days, our most traumatic days, and we share our most intimate of thoughts and feelings as we reflect on the life, and death, of our children.

As you step into a story, it is like you are stepping into the room in which a mother first discovers her lifeless child.

Whatever her interpretation, whatever her beliefs, whatever her reaction, whatever her words,

you are walking on holy ground.

Take your shoes off.

Show respect.

Show reverence.

Show compassion.

Learning about the password is intented to slow you down.

It’s intended to get your spirit right.  Your mind right.  Get your soul right, before entering.

The Stillbirthday Password

The ONLY reason to see something contributed at stillbirthday is to be loved and to give love.  Anyone who uses any contributed materials or content published at stillbirthday, outside of these standards may be subject to its author/rightful owner pursuing legal action to the fullest extent of the law, including within the anti-circumvention law, misusing the electronic password barrier.  This might include republishing a story in part or in entirety with re-interpretation, republishing a photo that does not belong to you, publishing the password without this notice, or in any way using a bereaved authors own healing journey in a way intended to cause emotional harm to that author or any other bereaved person who potentially may interpret their own experiences in a similar way.  You can view our Sharing Rights and Responsibilities page for more information.

By entering in our password to access what a member of our stillbirthday family has contributed here, you are agreeing to these terms and agreeing to abide by these expectations.  It should be considered that by proceeding with using the password you are in agreement of the above.  Finally, the password is stillbirthday



Heidi Faith’s story

This place is where I come to mourn my fourth child, born via natural miscarriage on April 19, 2011.

I saw his lifeless body, bobbing on the ultrasound monitor.  I was terrified.  I searched, frantically.

I peered into the screen, praying, more deeply than I ever have in my life.

“Please God, speak life back into him.  Please, God.  I know You can do this…”

It was the most intense request, the biggest miracle, the deepest I have ever pressed into God.

When the ultrasound machine was shut off, and all I could see was blackness, I was encountering a spiritual experience that would change the course of the rest of my life.

Why wouldn’t God perform this miracle?

Why has my baby died?

I was having a holy encounter.  A supernatural experience.

I was deeply, profoundly vulnerable, as my entire being was overcome by the vastness and weight of what I was experiencing.

A doctor entered into the room, and attempted to break through this sacred space.

She tried to cut through with slicing words.

The very first thing I heard from another human being, in my most vulnerable, spiritual encounter, was

“Call it whatever you want: products of conception, the potential for life, but…” as she clasped her hands firmly on my trembling shoulders she continued, “we need to get that debris out of there.”

The Rights of the Bereaved

Every bereaved person has a right to an authentic mourning.

Every bereaved person has a right to interpret his or her experiences in his or her own way.

Every bereaved person has a right to their feelings shifting and their perception changing through the course of their healing journey.

Every bereaved person has a right to discover how to nurture and discipline their grief for their own greatest healing.

Every bereaved person has a right to bring a flicker of light, of hope, of healing, to another bereaved person as they may be in the darkest days of their life.

Every bereaved person even has a right to make mistakes, to stumble, to not have a smooth, linear grief, but to recognize their own accountability within their own experience with grace and the accountability of others within their own experience with mercy.

Every bereaved person has a right to explore healing options, resources and expressions, free from the condemnation of others.

I implore you, to read our stories, read our experiences, with an awe and an admiration for the courage, the raw heartbreak, the discoveries, the grief and the healing, these, our stillbirthday families, pilgrimage on and sojourn through.

I invite you, to consider sharing your story, your baby’s photo, and to participate in the many opportunities for journeying toward healing we have at stillbirthday.

Thank you, for visiting stillbirthday.  May you find a flicker of light if even in your darkest hour here.

Related: be a part of Debris Day!

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  1. Amy Pittman says:

    I went to the hospital on Mach 4, 2013 with a UTI. I had horrible pain in my lower stomach and they sent me home with another round of antibiotics, the same that I had just taken a 10 day round of. I was told that the pain in my stomach was bladder spasms……it was contractions! The following day my water broke! I was only 13 weeks! When I got to the hospital and the nurse checked me she went to get the doctor quickly and quietly. He came and checked me and told me he was going to send me home and let me finish this process out in my own privacy. I told him NO i have two children at home that I have to take care of. I couldn’t afford to take that chance. The nurse with wide eyes said don’t worry you not going anywhere. So i birthed my precious little boy on the toilet at the hospital. The nurse said she had never seen anything in person so amazing and painful at the same time. Then she told me that she could see his little legs and she couldn’t let me go anywhere like that.! So before I could even pass the pacenta the doctor had them packing me up. Within thirty minutes of his birth I had him in a plastic container getting in my car. I named him Jessie after my neice. I took him home and put him in my refridgerator until i could have his funeral. I was so mad that my baby boy was in my refridgerator! My friend bought a tiny wooden jewlery box and I lined it with white felt and swalded him in a tiny piece of a blanket from his sister (who was still looking for him in my bellybutton). I buried Jessie at my aunt’s home and planted a Dogwood tree to show some type of growth. Now I’m mad tht my baby isn’t in my refridgerator!!!!!!!. Depression is bad but sadness will kill you!! I have a 15 year old and a 3 year old that make me so happy and I am still sad. I’m tierd of being sad! Thanks for Listening, Amy

  2. I am so sorry for your loss Amy.By telling your story,a complete stranger now knows that Jessie was on this earth and mourns his loss.The stranger is me.

  3. Thank you,lovely lady for sharing your most precious and painful memories with me. I know your lovely little boy existed and i honour his life, his birth and his passing. Love Amanda


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