Bearing an unbearable loss

Bearing an unbearable loss
Arcadia support group reaches out to grief-stricken parents 
By Karen Rubin - Staff Writer - San Gabriel Valley Tribune



Kristin and Andrew Jared with a photo of their deceased daughter Emily in their
Glendora dining room on Monday, November 1, 2004. The Jareds founded a chapter of
the MISS Foundation in Arcadia to help them cope with their grief.
Staff photo by Bernardo Alps)

~~~

Sunday, November 07, 2004 - The last picture of Emily Jared was taken while her
parents cradled her in their arms. Emily's lips were parted; her mouth looked like
a pink heart. Emily suffered brain damage during delivery. She was 14 days old 
when she took her last breath Oct. 4, 2001. 

"We held her until her breathing slowed down and then stopped,' said Emily's 
mother, Kristen Jared. 

Words cannot describe the depth of the Jareds' grief. 

After Emily died, Kristen Jared wrote poetry and read books about loss. Her 
husband, Andrew, 34, hit golf balls at a driving range, researched his family 
tree and took long drives. 

When Kristen Jared returned to work, she shared pictures of Emily with her 
third-grade class at Valinda School of Academics. 

"My message to them was you don't quit loving someone after they die,' said Jared,
38, of Glendora. 

Andrew Jared, meanwhile, interviewed with several law firms. When questions arose
about children, he told them he had a daughter who died after birth. His choice 
of words startled some. 

'I'm sure I didn't get some job offers because of that,' he said. "It was an 
interview killer.' 

But nothing prepared the Jareds for the reaction they received from friends. As 
they struggled with their grief, others responded with oblivious disregard. 

"'Oh, you can have another,'' Kristen Jared quotes them as saying. "'You'll get 
over it. It happened a long time ago, you should be over it by now.'' 

That changed when the Jareds joined Mothers and Fathers In Support and Sympathy. 
The nonprofit, volunteered-based organization provides support for families 
following the death of a stillborn or baby. Six chapters operate throughout 
California. The Jareds took over one group when it almost disbanded. 

Now, the couple host meetings at 7 p.m. the third Thursday of the month at the 
Church of the Good Shepherd, 400 W. Duarte Road, Arcadia. It brings 20-plus 
people together to talk about the loss of their children. 

"I have seen people who come here who can barely talk,' Kristen Jared said. 

Monthly meetings offer a place for grieving parents to talk about their pain, 
share experiences and remember their children. Members host blood drives, a 
Father's Day picnic and participate in the National Children's Memorial Day. 

On a national level, the M.I.S.S Foundation seeks to bring attention to the 
25,000-plus stillbirths each year. 

The group fights for research dollars to reduce the number of deaths. It also 
lobbies lawmakers to pass legislation requiring birth certificates for 
stillbirths. Currently, parents receive only a death certificate. 

"The group makes you feel normal,' said Gail Duckworth, 26, of Glendora. "So 
many people think you never got to know him, so how can you miss him.' 

On Sept. 15, 2002, Duckworth gave birth to a stillborn boy named Trevor. She was 
in her fourth month of pregnancy when she suffered a fever and infection. 

"He was a perfect little person,' Duckworth said. "He weighed 3 ounces and was 
6 1/2 inches long. His second toe was longer than his first toe, just like his 
daddy's.' 

Duckworth wishes people would acknowledge her loss with a simple, "I'm sorry.' 

"It was disappointing,' she said. "A week and a half after he was born, nobody 
said anything.' 

Duckworth says Trevor counts. 

"Trevor was my child and I think of him as much as a part of my family as my 
other two kids,' she said. 

Katie Hodge, a M.I.S.S chapter leader, lost her 17-month-old boy, Blake, when he 
was crushed in his car seat during a car accident. 

"People say stupid things,' Hodge said. "They say, 'God gave him to you for a 
reason and God took him away for a reason.' They feel a need to fix it, when it 
is not possible to make sense of a child's death.' 

Dr. Joseph Ouzounian, an obstetrician at Kaiser PermanenteMedical Center Baldwin 
Park, says most stillbirths are unexpected. They occur in one out of 1,000 births. 

"There is no way to prepare,' Ouzounian said. "You have a mother and father 
waiting for their child and I have to tell them that I don't see a heartbeat. 
There is no easy way to do it.' 

At Kaiser, parents of a stillborn receive a "Memento Box.' They are encouraged 
to name their son or daughter and nurses photograph the baby in a pink or blue 
blanket with a matching cap. They offer hand- and footprints and a lock of hair 
if the parents desire. 

Andrea Seigerman, a social worker at Yale-New Haven Hospital in New Haven, Conn., 
says the public fails to sense the depth of grief following a stillbirth. 
They assume a quick recovery because the parents did not get to "really know' 
their child. 

"Here, you have lost a baby and the rest of the world does not see it as losing 
a baby,' she said. "It leaves a gaping hole in their lives.' 

Back in Glendora, the Jareds keep Emily's memory alive. Her pictures decorate the 
house and their second child, 17-month-old Sarah, kisses Emily's picture, which 
is in a locket around her mother's neck. 

"Grieving parents just want an ear,' Andrew Jared said. "You need to go through 
this grief thing, there is no rushing it.' 

Karen Rubin can be reached at (626) 962-8811, Ext. 2109, or by e-mail at 
karen.rubin@sgvn.com .