Every year, we ask a few of our recent parent attendees to share their stories with our community as parent speakers at the October Memorial. This year we were blessed to hear from Megan and Mike Ash in honor of their precious daughter, Lylah Rose Ash. We’re sharing their speeches here on the blog with our sincere thanks to Megan and Mike. We are remembering Lylah with you today and always.
Megan Ash, October 14, 2018
It is such an honor to be here today not only to celebrate our daughter’s life but to celebrate the lives of all of your babies as well.
My name is Megan and this is my husband Mike. From the very beginning we knew we wanted children, we hoped for a big family. We never imagined we would travel such a difficult road to parenthood. Shortly after we started trying, we fell pregnant, we were over the moon. At nine weeks pregnant during a routine ultrasound our dreams were crushed, our baby’s heart was no longer beating. We were devasted. When the time felt right, we started trying for another baby, again we quickly fell pregnant. We hung onto so much hope all would be ok. At seven weeks pregnant we found ourselves being told the dreaded phrase, I’m so sorry there is no heartbeat. We were shattered.
After two miscarriages we were terrified of trying for another baby, we felt defeated, scared, and drained of hope. The decision to try again was not easy, it came with arguments, tears, anxiousness, and fear. But ultimately, we decided that we would hold onto hope and try again. In May of 2015 our beautiful son Jameson was born, it was one of the best days of our lives. We had a renewed sense of hope and joy in our lives and were so excited to begin our journey together.
We were eager to give Jameson a sibling, exactly one year later we fell pregnant. We were expecting a little girl, we named her Lylah Rose. With our little ball of sunshine at home and our daughter on the way, life just couldn’t be more perfect, the future was so bright.
In the early morning hours of February 20, 2017, five days before our due date we were in labor and made our way to the hospital, we were so excited. As my husband was moving our car I was being hooked up to the monitors, the familiar sound of my daughter’s heartbeat was not there. Mike walked in shortly after, he could see my look of panic, I said there is no heartbeat. The nurse left the room. I was in panic and pretty much lose all senses. My husband clearly worried still remained hopeful but I already knew. The doctor came in with an ultrasound machine which revealed our perfect but lifeless daughter. I instantly went into shock. My husband kept saying check it, check it, check it again, he was in disbelief. As my husband instantly broke down, I remained in shock, in panic, and repeated over and over, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do. I would repeat those words over and over throughout the next three days. Our baby girl was gone, we could not believe this was happening. I quickly realized I had to deliver her, I was terrified.
We chose to deliver her by c-section, which ultimately saved my life. I still battle with guilt that my life was spared that day and hers was not. We learned later that Lylah died from a silent acute placental abruption. After many specialists and tests we still don’t have an answer to why this happened.
As we waited to go to the OR I fainted, I was hemorrhaging, I don’t remember much after fainting. The next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery, the first thing I saw was Mike with Lylah in his arms. For a split second I hoped it had all been a bad dream and that my baby was ok. The look on Mikes face told a very different story. The first time I saw Lylah’s beautiful face and held her in my arms shattered my heart. But at the same time, I was full of so much pride. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and she was ours. Those next few days in the hospital were spent with our daughter and close family, trying to fit a lifetime of memories into just a few days. They are moments we will cherish forever, moments spent studying every inch of her, kissing her as many times as we could, telling her all of our wishes and dreams for her, and making new promises no parent expects to make to their child.
We chose to bury Lylah in Southern California, where we are from and most of our family and friends live, a place we consider to be home. Her services were beautiful, a lot of family and friends came to celebrate our little Rose.
I recall a conversation I had at Lylah’s wake, someone came to check on me, asking how I was feeling and if I felt a sense of closure after the services. I said that I was glad to have been able to do this for her, but that I knew it was just the beginning. I knew that Lylahs death would not be front and center of everyone else’s lives and that it would remain in mine. I knew that everyone would go back to their normal day to day, and I had this image of them looking at me in their rearview mirror as I stood still trying to figure out how to begin picking up the pieces. That reality scared me.
I have to say that I am incredibly blessed, I have an incredible family and a few friends that have been supportive in every sense of the word. I don’t want to think of what this journey would be like without them. I can’t deny that some relationships have changed and been challenged, that has been hard. But I have also come to learn that it is hard to stand by someone who is navigating traumatic grief. It’s a big responsibility of being able to carry your grief and understand that others just don’t know what to do or say sometimes. One of the only things those closest to me knew what to do was urge us to seek therapy. This response really bothered me. But it wasn’t them it was me.
Seeking help was something I pushed against from the very beginning, maybe because I just wasn’t ready, maybe because it was just another dose of reality that my daughter actually died. I pushed back against the idea of seeking support for a long time, for too long.
For the first six months after Lylah died, I was in the worst place of my life. I lived with intense physical pain every day. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror, I hated myself, I blamed myself for Lylahs death. I felt responsible for everyone’s loss of Lylah. I hated my body and didn’t care to take care of it. I had intense guilt that I was barely surviving each day and not as present for my son as I once was, I felt like a horrible mother. I wasn’t keeping house as I once did and we ordered take out a lot. I basically let go of every adult responsibility other than taking care of my son. He was the reason I got out of bed each day. I would stay awake all night replaying everything in my head. I was afraid to sleep because of the nightmares I was having and because I was afraid something would happen to my son while he slept. When I did sleep, I would wake up thinking I needed to check on Lylah only to find an empty bassinet. I was experiencing phantom kicks, I would panic in the middle of the grocery store because I thought I left Lylah in the car. I wasn’t talking to anyone, rejecting calls, not responding to texts, not even those closest to me. And my marriage was crumbling.
I was on auto pilot and could barely function. I was drowning in an ocean of grief, not having any clue which way was up. I was enduring depression, anxiety, and PTSD and I was doing it alone not having any idea what to do. I knew I needed to seek help. When Lylah died, I promised her I wouldn’t allow her memory to be me crumbling, and I promised my son I wouldn’t let his life be shadowed by death. It was time for me to make good on those promises. I had to make a choice to own my struggles and seek help.
As silly as it sounds, I turned to google and searched “when will I feel better after baby loss” I was just so desperate for somebody to tell me I was going to make it through this. At first, I didn’t find much, mostly what to expect when your baby dies, the delivery, etc. But not much on what happens when everyone has gone back to their day to day, as they should. And you are left standing there lost and feeling isolated. I think I anticipated feeling this way even in the hospital when I kept asking, what do I do, I don’t know what to do. I think without really knowing it then, my subconscious knew that I would be faced with the hardest journey of my life, walking through grief. As I searched on google, I finally found what I was looking for which led me to a huge community of bereaved parents. I stalked their Instagram pages and read their blogs for days. I couldn’t believe that there were so many who just got it. For the first time I felt like the fog started to lift.
I saw so many of these parents discovering ways to heal their hearts, they were living life after loss, some even thriving. Was it possible, was it really possible to smile without guilt, live life with hope and joy? For the first time I felt like it was.
I started to find ways to help me get through my days a little easier, I was being more mindful, even in the simple things. I was starting to practice self-care, started journaling, asking for help, reading books, and talking to other bereaved moms online. I felt good about my new-found resources and tools. But one thing remained in shambles, my marriage, and it was only getting worse.
My husband found Sharing Parents from a leaflet we were given in the hospital. Our first experience with them was at this event last year. We had an emotional but positive experience and decided on attending a support group meeting. It was hard but it was so good. During that meeting we learned about the Navigating Grief series. We knew this was something we had to do, we knew we needed the support of other parents and we knew that we needed to do something together along this journey.
Completing the series has been one of the best decisions we have made. At first, we were both reluctant to go. We were so nervous as we drove to the first meeting. It was scary and it was hard to talk about our story, but after that first meeting, we knew we were right where we needed to be. I am so thankful to Sharing Parents and to the families who joined us for the series. We had attended therapy before but this was different, being able to talk to other parents who get it is such a healing experience, and helps to make you feel less isolated. The series really opened my eyes to how important seeking help is, that’s when the real grief work started for me. It’s been draining, and emotional, child loss and grief work is the hardest experience I have ever walked through.
It’s been almost two years since Lylah died. I am still learning how to walk this path and learning who this new me is. I do continue to struggle PTSD and anxiety but not nearly as often as I once did. And I will continue to seek therapy for as long as I need to. My husband and I are just now walking this journey hand in hand after some really tough stuff. I know this journey will continue for my lifetime. I will always grieve for my daughter, after all grief is love and I will never stop loving her. I have learned that its ok to not be ok, it’s ok to have bad days, it’s ok to say no to situations that are hard, it’s ok to be sad. I have also learned that its ok to be ok, that its ok to have good days. It’s ok to smile and be happy. It’s ok to keep going in life because wherever I go Lylah will go with me.
I am learning to find balance in this new life, learning how to have my mother heart stretch between earth and heaven. I am beginning to see the beauty in the gifts that Lylah has left behind. I have this new perspective on life that I don’t think would have been possible if I wasn’t stripped to my core. I have slowed down, the beauty of nature is magnified because everywhere I look, I see her. I have a new appreciation for every second I have on this earth with the ones I love, my heart has been expanded in ways I never knew were possible. Lylah has given me so many gifts. Would I trade all of these to have my daughter here, absolutely, in an instant. Anything gained has come at too high a cost. But I can’t fathom not accepting her gifts and having such a grateful heart for all she has given us.
Lylah is a fierce little spirit and is very present in our lives. We have found some beautiful ways to honor and remember her, which Mike will share with you. She remains a huge part of our family and the place she holds in our family will always be hers. We are so blessed to have Lylah as our daughter. We don’t deserve her and I’m so grateful we were chosen to be her parents. If I knew that Lylah would be taken from us so soon and had the choice of never having her or not having this pain, I would choose her, always without question. Our hearts are broken without her here but the love she has brought, the love that we have for her will always be greater.
A year ago, I sat in these seats before me and the layers of grief weighed so heavily on me. I never imagined then that I would be standing here today sharing our story, seeing the light starting to shine through those layers of grief and truly feeling hope again. It is my hope that if you are lost in the ocean of grief and feel like you will never breathe again that our story gives you even just a glimpse of hope that the ocean will wash you up onto the shore, and you will be able to rise again. You will come out changed, and with new ways of seeing the world, but remain hopeful that it can be more beautiful than before.
Mike Ash, October 14, 2018
Thanks for having me today I’m Mike, I’d like to share some of my experience of losing my daughter Lylah. As a husband and a father, I felt like I needed to protect my family through this by staying strong and being the protector. I hid the pain that I was really feeling. And as the months went by, playing that role led to me becoming distant from my family. I was running from the loss of my daughter and at the same time having difficulty seeing my wife struggle. I also would look at my son and know what he would be missing out on for a lifetime without his sister.
For a long time not opening up and seeking help led to some destructive ways of coping. I remember eight months after losing her we attended this memorial and I sat in the crowd listening to families speak. I connected with so many things they had to say and it was unbearable because for the first time I realized how much I was suffering but at the same time had realized that there were others who went through the same thing and there were other people out there that I could reach out to and get some sort of help.
As Megan said we attended the Navigating Grief series which really was helpful and the first step into dealing with my loss. This path is very slow going and hard to put a time on the process but I have learned that as a man its ok to ask for help, its ok to not be ok and the best thing you can do is to communicate and not hold it all in. Protecting my family wasn’t me hiding everything it was me being open and asking for help. How can I help myself, my wife, and my son and get through this together as a family and not self destruct?
Something that has been so important to our healing process is honoring our daughter. We started out with having rocks made with her name on them and leaving them in special places we travel to as a family. Family and friends also take her rocks with them on vacations or put them in their gardens.
We do simple things like light a candle for her every night and have a candle for her at the dinner table on all holidays. On our first Christmas we made ornaments for her and gave them to our close friends and family to hang on their trees. We also get an ornament for her to put on our tree every year. With the help of family, we were able to make a donation to Sharing Parents at Christmas and give back to this organization that gave us so much. The biggest way we honor her is during her birthday month. We call it Lylahs Love, throughout the entire month we spread love and kindness in her name through random acts of kindness. We rallied our family and friends, her love was spread all over California, Oregon and as far as the Phillipines. We hope to one day have a foundation set up in her name.
We want to thank everyone for letting us share Lylah with you today. Thank you to our family and friends for being here to support us and honor Lylah. And thank you to Sharing Parents for the privilege to speak today and for everything you have given our family to help us walk through this.
