Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day: Remembering Matthew
I remember it like it was yesterday even though it was 18 years ago, and I know deep down I will never forget that day the rest of my life.
The two extremes that happened that day are still at odds with me. I had some fun plans on this particular day. I was playing hooky from work and meeting up with an old high school buddy named John to go skiing in Big Bear for the day. I woke up very early, trying not to wake up any one, I got ready and kissed both my wife Loretta and infant son Matthew on the cheek, whispering my goodbyes. We were so blessed with this beautiful baby boy. John and I had been good friends but had not been with each other in a while; we were both looking forward to our fun together. As I recall I had one of the best days I can remember, we laughed so hard all day and skied hard as well. On the ride home we were so tired we barley spoke, but we both had big smiles on our faces.
As we pulled up to my house there was a police cruiser in my driveway. I asked the reason and was not given much feedback, which was weird to me. I walked into my house and my brother-in-law and business partner Neil was there by himself. His strained face uttered some words about Mathew being found not breathing and he was at the hospital right now. (This was pre-cell phones so nobody could contact me and Neil got the tough duty to wait until I got home to tell me. Loretta was at the hospital with Matthew) I was in a fog, I rushed to the hospital which is minutes from my home and crashed through the emergency doors like a linebacker, shouting and looking for Loretta. A nurse came out of no where and asked if I was Mr. Ricciardi, I said yes, the look on her face spoke volumes, I look back now and it was right then and there that I knew Matthew had died. In the moment, still not wanting to believe it I was brought into a small waiting room where I found Loretta and her parents and some other family members all in tears. The pain and shock and grief washed over me like a tidal wave, I rushed to Loretta and hugged her and began sobbing. Still nobody had uttered the words to me yet, they did not have to, I knew with out having to hear it that my beautiful baby boy Matthew was dead.
Later, we found out that Mathew had died of SIDS, he was only four months old. Our world crashed in around us and our lives would never be the same again.
18 years later I have come to the tough conclusion about a journey like this. You never get over it, ever. You get through it, you manage it, you do live on and hopefully have further blessing in your life but you never get over it. The early days and weeks of walking by his room in silence were so painful, like a hot knife penetrating your heart, I still do not know how I managed it, I wanted to die. The stuffed animals, the pictures, all of it a memory so precious now, that was so painful back then. Grief is an individual journey, even though Loretta and I grieved together and did our best to support each other, I had my journey and she had hers.
There is no set timetable, no putting a ribbon around this stage to move onto the next. You are in a world where nothing makes sense and every emotion known to you and not known to you is converging almost all at the same time on top of you. We cried, we cursed, we cursed God and we asked why. We were angry, exhausted, scared and in disbelieve. With the help of faith, family, friends, time and some hard grief work on our end we managed to be lifted from this nightmare and began to live our lives again. Out of it all, our biggest fear is that he would be forgotten, that nobody would utter his name to us again. I could be blessed with a 100 children, but not one of them would replace Matthew.
So it is days like today, October 15th – Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, that help people like me. A day for friends and family to utter their name, to remember the brief life lived among us. Trust me, the parents that have lost an infant, a child or had a miscarriage do not need a special day to remember, they never forget. But it helps everyone else remember the tough journey someone has been on. A chance for a friend or family member to utter the child’s name, so the child will never be forgotten.
So we celebrate, yes celebrate his life now, and his younger siblings know him and speak of him as their older brother, even though they never met him. Loretta and I have been blessed with four wonderful children, Matthew, Faith, Christian and Cameron. One of them waiting for us, to one day be reunited. I feel so blessed today, my heart is full and I cannot help but have a smile on my face when I think of Matthew. Everyday is a gift and a chance to better a relationship or repair a broken one. I have gratitude for all I have, where before there was only a sense of entitlement.
How can an infant child teach me so much about life?
34 Comments
Chuck,
What courage you have to share this blog. Thank you, my brother. It still pains me to think of that day. I remember it like it was yesterday, getting the word at the office that there was a trouble with Matthew. For some reason, I went directly to the hospital instead of the house. Your words are so true…you never get over it, but you get through it. I am in awe of you and Loretta’s strength. I am thankful for our families connection with Kelly and Matthew being born within a week of each other. He will never be forgotten.
Much Love,
Fitz
Dear Chuck
Thank you so much for opening up your life to us who did not go through this horrible and life-changing experience with you. Even though I have not lost a child, I can only imagine the horror of it all. Reading your thoughts and feelings has helped me understand and relate to you on a different level of understanding and I appreciate your willingness to share your experiences and insights.
One thing in particular rang so true to me is “You never get over it, ever. You get through it, you manage it, you do live on and hopefully have further blessing in your life but you never get over it.” It has been 40+ years since my husband passed away and I am not “over it”. I know I never will be…….you just learn to do life without them!
Every day IS a gift, as you said. Thank you for being a wonderful blessing in my life.
Sincerely, Sharon
Carrie,
It certainly has been helpful sharing the story even after all these years. You do feel so very alone when you are on a path like this even amongst family and friends. I hope this story does help someone to open up and let go as needed. As a grieving parent you never let go of the precious memories but slowly, hopefully we can let go of the anger and venom that comes with such a loss. I know I did find some comfort (It took time) to know I was not alone and that others had also been on this path and not only survived but thrived in the long run. I have kept you in my thoughts and prayers as you have had your own hard path as well. Your ups and downs and the roller coaster of emotions you must have felt over the years I know has been extremely painful and unfair. Thanks for being a great friend, I appreciate you very much.
Love,
Chuck
Chuck . . . To say I never want to remember that day is true, but I will never forget Matthew. Hearing the pain in Loretta’s voice when she called will forever be ingrained on my heart. The moments when all of us were embracing, waiting, watching one by one, as your family came together. It was one of the most tragic events I have ever witnessed. I was so fortunate to see Matthew after he was born, hold him and share in your incredible joy. I still have photo’s of Matthew, especially the Christmas photo with Buck! How precious life was then. I will also never forget Matthew’s funeral service. You were so strong, so beautifully poised, as you spoke of your time with him. I was so taken by your ability to share Matthew with all of us. I remember as you closed you said something like “Matthew was a “big baby, so God, . . . you’re going to need to make bigger wings.” Today, I can hardly believe that 18 years have passed. Does time heal all wounds? Maybe the visual ones, the cuts, the bumps & bruises. It’s the internal HEART wounds that really never heal. The hole that spells “Matthew”, can still be opened in a moment and the hurt comes rushing back. You have been such a light in my life, Chuck. But more important, in the lives of thousands of others who have had a child die. Your willingness to share your story hundreds of times I know, has made an impact. Helping to bring the “Angel of Hope” to El Toro Memorial Park, not only has become monumental, but the gifts you have given keep bringing comfort and hope to others. The years have brought you and Loretta 4 beautiful children. How blessed I have been to know all four. But even more, to know you and Loretta. To watch from a distance how you moved through your grief these past 18 years with grace and love. Not always peaceful . . . but nonetheless, with strength. Thank you for sharing a time in your life that was your greatest joy and your deepest pain. I love you dearly, and will forever be touched by Matthew’s life . . . the “biggest” of God’s little angels!
Lovingly,
Pat
Pat,
I want you to know how much I appreciate you and our friendship. You helped me a lot through those dark days, thank you. You are right, even after all these years the wound can resurface in an instant. He continues to teach and I know I need to continue to learn. I have been blessed through the years to be able to be with and call so many great people my friends. With out that connection the journey is oh so much harder. Thank you for all your hard work over the years with the “Angel of Hope”. You have been instrumental in helping the healing of so many as well. You have a place in my heart, love ya!
Love,
Chuck
Chuck,
I can’t even begin to imagine the pain that your family must have gone through. You are so right in that you never “get over it, you get through it”. I am so sorry that your family has gone through this and I thank you for sharing such a tough experience.
Elsa,
Thank you, it is a privilege to share a bit of yourself with others. Even if Matthew’s story can raise our awareness of people’s pain that walk through our door just one level, that is something. As funeral directors we can become a first hand witnesses to a person’s pain and the horrible sadness that can envelope them. I know in your heart you have the compassion and empathy to serve, direct and comfort families during that difficult time. Thank you Elsa, I appreciate you and our friendship very much.
Love,
Chuck