"The Day I Lost My Song" - One Man's Story of Losing a Child through Stillbirth
I have been astounded at the responses received in regards to the article, “When You’ve Lost a Child…or Know Someone Who Has,” as it received almost 600 hits. I heard from women who had lost a child, or children, through miscarriage or stillbirth, as recently as a week and as distant as 32 years. It didn’t matter how short or long ago that it happened – the pain and loss continued to be very real. Many were still asking, Why? What could have been differently? Was it my fault? And will this grief ever leave? I also heard stories of healing, hope and restoration – of how God met them, and continues to do so, regardless of how much time has passed.
As I pondered this topic further, I was reminded of how men can be overlooked when such a tragedy occurs. Although the loss to the woman is beyond profound, men suffer greatly – often silently – not able to share their pain and hurt as easily as women. Many are just trying to be brave, or perhaps don't feel they have "permission" to grieve in the same way. Often their pain is shoved aside, later finding its way out in fear, anger, isolation and/or insecurity. Marriages can greatly suffer, as you have two hurting people, trying to navigate through incredible loss, not knowing what to do.
With this in mind, when I asked my husband, Stan, if he would be willing to share a bit of his journey, enabling both men and women to catch a glimpse of what it is like for a man to endure such a loss, he replied with, “I believe I’ve already written about that,” as he’s been compiling stories for several years, in hopes of one day publishing a book. So with my wise, kind and generous husband’s permission, I am sharing with you portions of the story of the loss of a child…from a man’s perspective…in hopes that we can understand and love the men in our lives a bit better.
The Day I Lost My Song
“The Lord is my strength and shield; my heart trusts in Him and He helps me.
My heart leaps for joy and with my song, I praise Him.” Psalm 28:7
As I reflect back over several decades (five and a smidgen, to be exact), of small and insignificant objects lost, I’m reminded of a loss of immeasurable significance. So much so, that it can’t be contained in, limited by, or defined as an object. It’s something much greater and deeper. I supposed you could say that it was intangible, but something that was part of me, expressing itself in tangible ways. I lost my God-given song.
In 1985, while being in transit, between living in an apartment and finding a new home, we decided to move in with Cammie’s parents to help her dad with his small farm while he recovered from heart surgery. Our world was a bit chaotic and in a state of upheaval, but none of that seemed to matter. Instead we were filled with joy, excitement and anticipation. Cammie was pregnant and our first child’s arrival was only about 10 weeks away. Life, as we knew it, was getting ready to greatly change, and we welcomed it. But little did we know that the change that was coming was beyond anything we could have imagined to plan for. It was a change that was premature, cold and unwelcomed.
I’ll never forget. It was an April morning and as we awoke, Cammie spoke with some concern, “I haven’t felt the baby move in a couple of days. I’m worried. I think I need to call the doctor.” Of course, I did the man thing, moving into immediate “fix-it” mode, responding with something like, “I bet it’s just hiding up under your ribs. It’s okay. Everything’s all right.” Little did I know she had already developed the mysterious mother’s instinct that was telling her something was very wrong.
A few hours later, we found ourselves in the doctor’s office. After a brief conversation with the doctor and a bit of probing, it was decided that an ultrasound was necessary. Moments after the ultrasound was completed, the doctor gave us the news, “I’m so sorry to have to say this, but there is no heartbeat.” As the words began to settle, we found ourselves in shock. THERE WAS NO HEARTBEAT. Our unborn child was dead.
The next day, after hours of forced, hard labor, our son, Charles Bascom Wilson, was born. He was beautiful and perfectly formed, yet without the breath of life. Days later our families joined us in the cemetery at Mt. Zion Methodist Church. This was the church where we were married. It was not supposed to be the place where we would bury our son.
The days and months that followed were extremely difficult. Cammie was experiencing a pain that only a mother who has lost a child can experience. She felt such a deep sense of loss and mourning. I, on the other hand, managed to play a game of hide-and-seek with my pain. As a result, the normal grieving process that should have taken place was hijacked by that irrational intruder known as Anger. I decided to be mad at God, mad at myself, and even mad at Cammie. Bottom line…I decided to be mad at the world. As anger invaded my entire world, I allowed it to rob me of something most precious to me – my God-given song that I had discovered as a child (this story is told in a previous chapter).
Although I cannot give you a specific date or time, I did eventually come to my senses, recognizing the reality of what I had lost – my child and my song. I realize I had also lost hope, joy and the warmth in my spirit. I had lost my compassion for others. I wish I could say that as soon as I realized all I had lost, that I simultaneously found all of these important parts of me, but I didn’t. Instead, I began a journey. I allowed myself to feel the pain, quickly learning to give that pain to the only One I knew who could help and heal me. I opened myself up to a work of the Holy Spirit, and then…one day I found myself singing again.
They say that time heals all wounds. I say that it is only when we allow God to invade our time and space that those wounds are truly healed. I confess that I still think of Charles Bascom often. I find myself back at Mt. Zion Cemetery, all alone with my thoughts and God. And while there is, and will always be, a sting of pain and loss when I remember my son, I find that my thankfulness overcomes the pain. I’m thankful to God for my life. I’m thankful for my great, loving, gifted and gracious wife. I’m thankful for Adam and for Zach. God later gifted me with two incredible sons. They are now all part of my new God-given song. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“For His anger lasts only a short time. But His favor is for life. Crying may last for a night, but joy comes with the new day.” Psalm 30:5 (NLT)
Thank you, Stan. You are an amazing man and husband and I love you with all my heart. I always have and I always will - Cammie
