Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, 2017

This day is so important to us, and to many bereaved parents. It is a day for honoring the memories of little ones lost, and for trying to break the silence surrounding pregnancy and infant loss.

I have posted many times in the past about this topic, and now, parenting after loss is bringing a whole new perspective to this date. I often look at our little one and think about the siblings she sill never meet. She could have had a big brother or sister two years older than her. How would they be together? Would they look alike? Would they play together or antagonise each other? How would our lives as parents be different with two instead of one? It's even possible, given the timing of our losses, that she could have two older siblings, what would THAT look like for us?

And then I get to thinking that if we hadn't lost those babies, maybe we would never have had her. Our little Squish might never have been born due to spacing gaps between siblings or a whole range of other issues that can come with bringing home a baby.

Parenting after loss can bring such guilt too. There have been so many times when we have been struggling with sickness, sleep deprivation or simply not knowing how to ease our little one or what she needs, that we have been cross with her or with each other. And then to feel such guilt for not always being 'happy' with our little miracle. We love her more than anything, but she's still a baby! And babies can be a challenge!

If you are grieving the loss of a little one, our thoughts are with you. Especially to those who suffer in silence and have not told their friends or family about their loss. love and hugs to you x

Picture from Luminous Light Studio

Christmas Memories

Talk to me!!

This PAL can be a lonely business.

I have been pretty much left alone since telling friends and family about our little one. With the exception of my mum and nan, and a couple of close friends, no one else even asks how I'm doing, how baby is... even usual pointless texts about random things found on the internet or overheard in the workplace have stopped.

I was having my weekly progesterone test the other day, and the lady who I see every week put into words exactly what I think it is. I have been seeing this lady at the same time every week for the last 12 weeks. She's heard all about how precious this little one is, and her siblings before her. She always worries when I'm late, and when she's away, she has asked people to leave a note to let her know if I have been in.

This week, I was unable to go due to a clash with my hospital appointment, so instead of having the test on the same day but at a completely different time, I had it the following day at the same time. She almost did a little dance when she saw me, and told me now worried she was when she saw that I hadn't been in the day before.

She then said that she would have liked to call or text me, but of course didn't have my number. Then she said that even if she did, she probably wouldn't have called in case something had happened and she would make it worse by calling.

On one hand I understand this. People are awkward around any type of pain, and we don't really know each other that well. On the other hand, I know from experience that there's really nothing anyone can say that will make things 'worse' and in fact being left alone leads to feeling that no one cares - that's a different feeling but just as isolating.

I don't know for sure, but I assume that's what's happening with my family and friends. No one wants to be the one to ask how things are going only to hear that something awful has happened. At the same time, no one wants to send a funny text or picture if they think I am not in the mood for it.

It is so frustrating, because I feel completely alone in this, and it makes me feel that this little girl isn't being celebrated by her family. Her aunties haven't asked anything about her, or me, or her dad. Her cousins aren't keeping in touch. People who I would usually hear from once or twice every week or so haven't been in touch for months.

I try to reach out, I text, I call and ask how things are going with them and I get one word answers and no questions about us. I try to tell without being asked and just get those same one word answers. I know it shouldn't bother me as much as it does, and things may change in the future, but right now I just feel so alone in all of this.

Why shouldn't this little girl be celebrated by her family just because her siblings before her were lost?

Father's Day

I'm a little bit tired of hearing that acknowledging my husband, and other men who are living without their babies, puts a downer on the Father's Day celebrations of others.

Why is it ok for people to post about the fathers and grandfathers that they miss on this day, but it's not ok to acknowledge that there are men the world over missing spending this day with their precious children?

Once again, I am pregnant on Father's Day. The first time this happened, as I have posted about before, I didn't even acknowledge my husband as a father. I simply thought that you weren't a mother, or father, until you had a baby to hold. I know now how wrong my thinking was, for so many reasons.

This time, everything is so different. This baby is growing and kicking away inside and I can feel her get extra active when she hears her daddy's voice when he comes home from work. The way he is looking after both of us this time around just proves to me beyond any doubt that he is a father already, and that he is doing everything he can for his little girl.

He copes with Father's Day by not thinking about it, and as he is working today already told me when I asked how he was doing that he doesn't really want to talk about it until he gets home. Long ago that would have bothered me, but everything we have learned these past years reassures me that he can do whatever he needs to cope with this in any way he likes, even (especially) if it is not what I would do. We both grieve so differently.

And honestly, it is hard to celebrate, even with this little one here, knowing that our first baby could have been 16 months old and ready to spoil her daddy on this special day. It will always be this way for us on special days, there will always be little faces missing from our table, from our photos and from our memories.

So I am not sorry for acknowledging my husband as a father today. My heart aches for the hugs, kisses and memories that he has been denied. He is the best father our little ones could ever wish for.

When It Hurts

Just as pregnancy loss is an isolating experience, I am coming to find that pregnancy after loss can carry much of the same silence and awkwardness.

When I first started telling people about this little one, responses ranged from "How far along are you this time?" to "This time will be different." I also received many subdued "Congratulations" that almost seemed to have an undertone of doubt or even disbelief. I also had a couple of "Again?!" I'm not sure if this was due to the number of previous losses (people were quick to suggest we look at adoption after our last loss), or the short time between our last loss and this baby. I would have liked just one positive "Congratulations!" I knew that people would ask how far, that's one of the reasons we waited till we passed the 8 week point of our last loss before telling even family.

I have also found it hard to talk about my own feelings about this pregnancy. I'm constantly being told off for saying "if" but it is just not possible for me to say '"when" yet. I try to explain that it is not negativity, or even worry and anxiety - it is realism. I have been on the wrong side of the odds too many times to take anything for granted. I also can't talk about the fact that I am still mourning all our lost babies, but also still processing our loss from April and trying to get my head around the fact that if that baby had lived then we wouldn't have our little girl. I just get uncomprehending stares in return. I have people ask me why I am feeling sad, down or withdrawn, after all, I should be happy to be pregnant.

The thing I am finding most difficult at the moment is the feeling that I should be having a happy and painless pregnancy because I am lucky enough to actually be pregnant again. I guess this came to a head after reading a fellow loss mum's comment on an infertility group I was part of. It was basically along the lines of "I wouldn't complain about anything if I was pregnant, don't these women know how lucky they are? I can't stand hearing it!"

I found this really confronting, as while I am thankful beyond belief to be carrying this little one, the pregnancy itself is difficult for me. I truly believe I will do whatever it takes to get her here safely, but should I just have to grin and bear the pain? On top of the daily progesterone and the fatigue this causes (which is nothing more than an inconvenience), and the gestational diabetes, my back injury is starting to play up and the nerve pain in my leg is almost excruciating. At the moment, I can barely walk for 5 minutes before it becomes too much. I am also having troubles with round ligament pain and SPD.

Yes I am getting a support band, yes I have seen the physio, yes I am starting up hydro therapy again this week... but just because I am blessed to be pregnant again does that mean I can't say the words, "My leg is really hurting today."

I never expect everyone to understand what this experience feels like, and I know there are many women who would give anything to fall pregnant, but just as we don't expect them to suffer their losses in silence, why should the experience of pregnancy after loss be somehow immune from this kind of freedom and support?

Pregnancy is tough. Pregnancy after loss is tough.

Remember with me

This week has been rough and I am trying not to let it get me down. Trying, but not succeeding.

May 26th marked what could have been our little one's first birthday. All I wanted was for someone to remember with us. No one did. I felt bad enough that I actually had to remind hubby, but I have to do that even for my birthday. However, coming from a family that usually makes such a fuss over birthdays, all I wanted was for someone to remember.

Last year I put it all over social media, we even held a special sale during May and donated a percentage of the profits to Sands Victoria. The advertising said, "...in honour of our little one who was due May 26th."

This year, I didn't write anything. I knew that if I did, I would get one or two messages from people who's memories were suddenly jogged, but I didn't want that. I know that what I wanted wasn't logical, or rational, after all our little one means far more to us than to them, but still...

I didn't want a big song and dance, I didn't want a fuss. All I wanted was an acknowledgement that the day, and every day after, would be incomplete without that little life to celebrate.

I suppose it was just one more day in a long run. Bereaved Mother's day where only two people acknowledged me, Mother's Day where only one person did, my birthday where everyone wanted to know what a 'great' day I was having and then this. It's really feels like the monumental impact our losses have had on our life together mean nothing at all to the people who at one point meant everything to me.

I also don't know how to move forward, especially with some people in my immediate family. I know our loss and pain makes them uncomfortable, but if it was me I would know that my discomfort was so small compared to their pain of their loss. Instead, they avoid me, don't mention any of our babies, and get upset with me what I don't behave the way I am "supposed to."

I am at the point where I just don't want to deal with it any more. It is easier not to see them or talk to them than to cope with this. I know over time this will change, as it did immediately following our loss, but for now I think this is how it has to be.

Outlander - "Faith"

I haven't really written here before about the types of things I spend my time doing that aren't related to TTC or PAL. I guess all of that is so very personal and huge that everything else seems kind of petty and insignificant. This time, the two have overlapped.

For the longest time, I have loved the Outlander books (although when I picked up the first book in the series while I was at uni it was called "Cross Stitch" which I always thought was strange as that title has nothing to do with the book!). I have read all of them multiple times, except the 8th and most recent in the series which I have only read once.

The second book in the series if full of heartache and loss for Jamie and Claire (the main characters) and one part that always stood out to me was the description of the still birth of their first daughter, Faith, and the way in which the both individually grieve this loss. Claire had believed she was unable to have children and then her first pregnancy ended in such heartache.

The last few years, having experienced pregnancy loss myself, I was in equal parts anticipating and dreading this part in the stunning TV adaptation. In the lead up to Season 2 I remember saying to hubby that if they somehow cut this part out I would stop watching, even though I adore the series almost as much as the books. It just wouldn't feel right, and would further buy in to the taboo surrounding pregnancy and infant loss.

Last week's episode showed the lead up to their loss, Claire bleeding and then hemorrhaging before waking up and screaming "Where is my baby?" and even that had me in floods of tears and hubby comforting me saying how awful it all is and that it'll be hard on me to watch and maybe I should wait. He's not usually one for needless hugs but last week he just kept holding me and I was so grateful.

This week's episode is called "Faith" and I guess follows the loss of their daughter and everything that follows on from that (having read the book over and over I have a fair idea!) but I know it will still be hard. But I am also glad, because maybe it will do a little to help people who have never experienced this to understand a little of what impact such as loss can have.

At least, that was my hope, until reading on the official Facebook page this morning and looking at some of the comments. Most tragically, someone had written that they hoped this part would be written out of the series because it was hard to read so would be harder to watch. All I could think was, imagine how hard it is to live! Why should this type of pain and loss be edited out of life, out of books or TV because it is hard for people to witness? Isn't that what causes so much of the taboo around pregnancy and infant loss in the first place? Being scared of how others will react?

I will watch, I will cry and I will be happy that these writers had the courage to address such a heart wrenching but significant part of so many of our stories.

Mother's Day

To all the beautiful mamas facing another Mother's Day without the ones they love, I see you x

International Bereaved Mother's Day

I am still not sure how I feel about this day. I love that there is a day to acknowledge mothers who live without their children, but it also feel a little bit like by giving us a day of our own people are saying that we are not 'real' mothers and don't deserve to be celebrated on Mother's Day.

To those reading this blog who are grieving the loss of their children, know that I see you and celebrate you.

Bron x

Beginning again, again

Hubby and I take a lot of these silhouette photos when we travel. He's a little shy of having his photo taken, so this was our compromise. We took one just before our first miscarriage and when I look at it, it seems fitting somehow. We are still here, but in a sense we are just shadows of what we were before. We're working hard at getting back to their light, but at the same time, I don't think the light will ever shine quite that brightly again.

Physically things seem to be going well since the miscarriage. I have keyed up the Ovia fertility app again and it is stubbornly telling me that we are right in the middle of my fertile window although I haven't felt that tell tale ovulation pain at this point. I am not really expecting anything, we have mostly decided to at least wait until my first period before trying again.

I was told again that we get to have fun trying again. It's just not fun. The first two times we dtd after our most recent loss I cried. Before, during and after. They say sex is all in the head for women (not that I agree) but in this case all I could think of was that there should still be a baby in there and then we wouldn't be 'trying' at all. And I cried for our baby, our loss, our grief, my husband and myself. Then I cried because I was crying and... well, it goes on.

The grief is almost unbearable at times.  I look at my beautiful husband, a father with no children to hold and my heart just feels so bruised, so shattered. I can feel for him, he's such a part of me and I want to protect him. What I can't deal with is being told that I have to make other people feel better. I keep being reminded that other people are sad about our loss and I should be trying to make them feel better. I just can't. I can't pick up the phone to comfort someone how hasn't even sent a message to see how were doing.

So, the days are moving past and we are trying to begin again. Nothing will change what has happened in the past or the hole in our hearts and lives where our babies should be, but we can try to look to the future and remind ourselves that next time, just maybe, things will be different.

I wish I knew then what I know now

I haven't written for a while. This loss had been really tough on us and is combined with tricky times for us both with family and at work.

One thing that I have been really aware of is just how lucky (blessed? I don't like using the word, but maybe it fits) I am to have such a supportive partner. I have seen a lot of ladies in my loss forums saying that they feel like their partners don't understand, that they don't grieve, that they are mean or say hurtful things. Many of these women are experiencing their first loss and I can totally relate to those feelings.

I knew that my husband felt something of our first losses as he was diagnosed with depression shortly after and started taking anti-depressants. What I didn't feel, however, was love, support or understanding. We actually went through a horrible time where I even started thinking that maybe we shouldn't be together anymore.

I can't say for sure what changed. I know I refused to stop talking to him about what I was thinking and feeling, and if his responses were hurtful or he told me he didn't know how to respond, I told him what I needed. I didn't expect him to guess. I also made an effort to actually ask him more often how he was feeling and what he was thinking. At first he didn't really respond, but once he did, my heart just broke for him.

I realised then that the main reason I hadn't felt loved, supported or understood was that he was doing all he could just to hold himself together. For example, he went straight back to work instead of staying with me because he needed to feel some sense of the world continuing and life going on. Once he admitted this, we were able to fully support each other instead of grieving alone. Now, after our most recent loss, I think we have been fully there for each other and I understand that he feels and expresses his grief in completely different ways to me. I think that is the key for so many of these women I see, they are so wrapped up in their pain (and understandably so) that they say that their partner SHOULD do, say or feel certain things. There is no SHOULD about grief and every person feels every loss differently.

After a conversation last week when someone told me "everything happens for a reason" we were talking about this latest loss. We both admitted, somewhat guiltily, that we were feeling this one a little more. Perhaps because it is still such a new, raw pain, but perhaps because we spent more time with this little one. Did that mean we grieved our other losses any less? I don't think so. They're all different and they all hold a seperate place in our hearts.

15 things everyone should know about grief after pregnancy loss

I found an article online, 15 things doctors don't tell you about grief after pregnancy loss but should, and as I read, I couldn't help but thinking that as much as I do wish someone had told me these things after my first loss, I think it is important for EVERYONE to know these things about pregnancy loss. So to do my bit, I am posting the list below. If you want to read more about each item on the list, please head to the original article (link above).

1) No matter what stage of loss during pregnancy it hurts
2) Some will not acknowledge your loss
3) It hurts like hell psychically and emotionally
4) You blame yourself 
5) You lose trust in your body
6) You feel isolated
7) You will grieve for what would have been
8) It happens more than you think
9) Some will be mean
10) You will grieve differently than your partner
11) It’s traumatic
12) There is support
13) A ritual goodbye can help no matter what stage of loss.
14) You are still at risk for PMADs but don’t confuse that with normal grief
15) You will always remember