Blogging until this too, passes

I’ve hit a wall emotionally. It feels as though I’ve been driving along a straight road, and all of a sudden, BAM!, a wall appears and I smash my “car” into it.

Needless to say, the wreckage isn’t pretty.

I feel as though I have staggered out of an accident, blinking at my new reality. Picking up the pieces.

I posted on my F.B last night that I was pissed off abut the fact that because I am nearly 6 and 3 years post loss, that I feel forgotten, that my babies are forgotten, and the surprising waves of grief that creep up, don’t matter as much as other people’s because they’re fresh into their journey of loss, that their loss is “newer” than mine.

I feel a combination of overwhelming unfairness, as well as a huge cloud of guilt for wanting to throw myself on the floor and scream “MY BABIES COUNT TOO!”.

I don’t have other children, I don’t have a pregnancy to look forward to, I just have me. I consider myself to be a pretty resilient person, but today has just been one of those days where I feel like I am just floating. I feel forgotten.

It’s a strange mix of emotions to be working through.

Guilt

Selfishness

Sad

Longing

This too shall pass…

As my daughter’s 5th birthday approaches, I find myself unable to describe how I feel. I guess, in the coldest way possible, I don’t feel sad, I don’t feel upset.

This year, as March 17th approaches, I feel…fine.

Other birthdays ( well, technically it was her EDD) have been hellish, devestating, harrowing, lovely and bittersweet.

If someone had told me back in 2007, on the estimated day of her birth that I’d not feel the way I felt that day, 5 years on, I’d have laughed and thrown my vodka and tonic in their face. I spent 2007 drunk and devestated, revealing my loss to my boyfriend (now DF), 2008, I cried as DF held me, 2009, I made cupcakes, 2010 I would have lit a candle, 2011, I went to the beach. This year?

With hope in my heart, I will celebrate my daughter’s 5th birthday in 2012, in a way that I decide on the day.

Lily Natalie Anne,

You have graced my world for only a short time, but forever you live on in memory, and in my heart.

Mamma loves you, my sweet butterfly.

The ability to see…

If we all posessed the ablilty to see into our futures, I am sure most of us would never have dreamed of a family. Most of us would have seen the heartbreak of pregnancy loss, and the impact of life after loss and walked away with our hands up.

No way, no how. No way would we put ourselves through this if we could see into the future, the damage that it causes.

But we can’t.

We go through it, pregnancy after pregnancy, attempt after attempt, failure after failure.

All in the hopes that because we CAN’T see into our futures, that there may indeed be a baby at the end of it.

One mamma has given up her quest for motherhood, and as painful as it is to have given up, she is looking at not the end of a journey, but the beginning of the rest of her life.

Another dear friend of mine (Mo) has just said goodbye to her beautiful baby boy at just shy of 24 weeks, and is in the place I call “limbo”. Waiting for the beginning of her journey.

A woman I have met through my volunteer work, following the loss of her son, as well as 3 miscarriages and the loss of her current pregnancy’c twin early on, is 38 weeks and counting. And terrified. And overjoyed. She’s about to begin a journey, and I wish her all the best for it.

If any of these women could change what they have been through just by being able to forsee the future?

I don’t think so. I think that many of them would say “no”.

To experience this loss, it takes away all of the superficial crap that we ususally negotiate our way through. I meet regularly with a girl I have only met in person a handful of times. It is never awkward. We just start chatting away.

One of my best friends is a beautiul lady who I have never met IRL. And here I am, planning a trip to see her. Not planning now, its actually happening. Tickets are paid for!

Experiencing loss cuts us to the core. It destroys us, changes us, inspires us.

For us, it is not about who has the flashest car, or the nicest house, or if you come from a different natuonality. Even, at the end of the day, it isn’t about the fact that we do or don’t have children.We are all mothers. Its the experiences that we all have in common are what bring us together.

I think if I knew the heartache that LALwould bring, I’d never have gone for it. At the same time, if I could have seen the beautiful, simple, amazing friendships that had been spun from my losses, I’d do it a million times over.

This post is for all of you- no matter where you are in your LAL journey.

 

Babies, October, Peace and Overseas

I’m thrilled to announce that I have now planned, booked and paid for (mostly) my very first overseas holiday! I’ve never even left the country, so why not go BIG time and hit up America. I am off to visit two very special ladies.

I’ve never met either of these people in “real life”, however the sisterhood formed online is one that is stronger than any I have ever shared with any other person.

I am flying to the “States” in October, just in time for October 15th. I am playing with the idea of hosting a service with Kay (http://mommyofoctoberangels.blogspot.com), just something simple, honest and lovely. If it is just us, then how amazing will it be for us to share such a significant day with one of the few people who “get” the world of “young” loss. But if it is with a small crowd, I hope to bring a sense of peace surrounding the day. A chance for them to know they’re not alone. And their babies are remembered and loved.

More on that to come.

I am also spending 4 wonderful days with a dear friend, who lost her daughter a month after I lost Lily. We were both pregnant at the same time, believed both our babes were girls, both lost our babes to the same fate. Both of us struggled, fought with ourselves, and reched out. She was the hand who pulled me from the edge, and I was hers. Together, via email, we recovered. Slowly. I took the chance to read through our emails, a correspondence that lasted 2 years before we got busy and found each other on FB. <3 That 2 years worth of emails made me realise that it isn’t weird to pay a lot of money to visit people I have never met. Its our experiences that have brought us together.

I get to meet these beautiful laides this year. In 8 months time. IS it October yet?

Thanks to our babies.

Remembering

Lily Natalie

“Little Speck”

James Michael

Kylie Rose

Daniel Bishop

Lilla Bjorn

Sara

Complex Situatuions…

Some weeks it is impossible to keep your head above water, emotionally, and this week has been one of them. One of my good friends found out her baby died at 9 weeks into her pregnancy. She’d seen the heartbeat, and was hoping that this time, this could be it…

How can the universe be so cruel?

Another friend of mine buried the ashes of her son this week as well.

It was a beautifully moving service. Perfect to honour a perfect little boy.

Again- how can the universe be so cruel to take a little boy from his mother?

I just don’t even know how to articulate what I am trying to say.

The universe sucks.

The Finishing Line

A while back, I blogged that it was “my first day of my last year of study”.

Well

Today is the last day of my first bachelor’s degree.

After today’s assessment, I am a qualified teacher.

It is the end of this journey for me. I look back over the last 5 years ( 4 of which were taken up by my studies), and cannot believe I am here. Finally. After years of struggles, tears, joy, way to much wine, long nights, early mornings, beautiful friends, I am here.

Lily gave me the push in the direction of following my dream of becoming a teacher, and Little Speck, even more so.

I had so mnay moments where I was convinced I COULD NOT GO ON, I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t good enough. I think I’ll always continue to do this, but for now, I’ll do it with a qualifiection in my hand!

I am now a teacher, ready to change the future, to change lives, even if it is only on person at a time.

I’ve always said that if I can make the difference that one of my high school teacher’s made to my life ( she was amazing when I revealed that I had suffered a miscarriage, she was my support person for a long time after that.), to just one student, if I can help them through the roughest point of their life by just listening, I will know I have done my job.

To NB- Thankyou, from the very bottom of my heart.

I am a teacher now.

I did it.

The “R” word and the “S” word

I wish I was talking about roses and sapphires here, I really do.

Anyone who knows me, reads my blog, or recieves emails from me, knows I talk. A lot.

And more often than not, I swear, I ramble, and I say things I know I shouldn’t.

I call people stupid, I call myself lazy, retarded and a bit of a spaz.

Yes, people, THOSE “R” and “S” words.

Admittedly, I don’t think twice about it, its something that has become a part of everyday conversation, just another word.

It’s something I do not even realise I do.

So today, I managed to completely insult a group of women very dear to my heart, but unintentionally/not thinking about the connotatios of the word “spaz”. I forget, that for such a long time, it was used as a word to mock people with intellectual or physical disabilities. And I use those words as simply another part of my everyday vocabulary.

And its something, that I now, feel incredibly silly for doing.

These women are right. What “good” does it do by using those words?

Do I have a disabled child? NO.

Do I know what it is like to face the prospect of raising one? NO

Is it correct to even use the words? NO.

What entitles me to use them?

Nothing.

So to these ladies, I aplogise from the bottom of my heart. I feel silly, naieve, juvenile for using them, and for having to have it POINTED out to me that “GUESS WHAT- that offends people!”.

I am now making a conscious effort to not to do it.

Which, if I was a good person, I wouldn’t have to do in the first place.

I guess that what I am trying to say is that I need to change, and society needs to change. Using these words only upsets people who truly know the meaning behind the words.

Change begins with the individual.

Change begins with me. I can blame my age, or the fact it has become so common to use the words that they have lost meaning to many, or that it is just a part of society.

I could.

But it’s not.

It’s not good enough to make excuses.

I have to stop. And THINK. And make a change.

To these ladies ( you know who you are), you have such a special place in my heart, and I am absolutley mortified that I have upset you. I apologise from the bottom of my heart.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am aware of the fact that I am not a mother, I am certainly not a mother to a child that may be physically or mentally less-abled.

I am aware, though, that 50-60% of miscarriages occur because of chromosomal abnormalities-because there was something significantly wrong with the developing baby.

My reasons for my miscarriages? I chose not to know, not to have any further testing.

But there’s a pretty high chance that it was chromosomal, and therfore a pretty high chance that I could have parented a disabled child.

It was my body that killed my babies, and given the fact that it “could have been me”, I do need to think about what I am saying.

Feeling very ashamed of myself tonight.

 

A post inspired by Mo

I was reading through my “tag surfer” posts, where people who have the same tags in their posts as me, they come up and I stalk read them.

Mo (mommyodyssey.wordpress.com) blogged about “then” and “now” and how her 22 year old self was the same as her 31 year old self, but so vastly different.

I wanted to cry, as I read her beautiful post.

It said to me “I am ok, and I am ok with that.”

It made me reflect on my life, all of 22 years myself.

I too, as Mo has, suffered (for the majority of the time) from un-diagnosed depression. Since I was about 14, I have struggled with dark thoughts, down moods and bouts of crying. That’s the clean version.

But then, I look at the events in my life, and I cannot believe it.

Despite severe depression, self harming, starving myself, falling pregnant, miscarrying, working myself to the bone, meeting DF, moving away from home to uni, doing reasonably well and never accepting it, falling pregnant, miscarrying, back to uni, joining a P&IL volunteer group and making a genuine difference, moving in with DF, struggling with an even more severe bout of depression, I look back and smile.

Despite ALL of that- that is the short version- I have come to the realisation that I have gone through ALL of that, I have come out on top. I am in a relationship- an honest, respectful, amazing relationship- with a man whom I love with all of my heart, I am completely supporting meyself and living with DF, I am about to embark on my dream career, a career I knew I wante to persue since I was 13, as a teacher. I am a good teacher. I really am.

I am a teacher, a sister, a daughter, a finace, a mother, a friend, a support to the P&IL community.

I am ok, and I am ok with that.

I am me, and I have come out on top, despite all the crap the universe has thrown at me.

Thankyou Mo for reminding me of this.

5 years on…

This time 5 years ago, my world had been ripped apart, my baby died.

I had spent almost 3 weeks prior to my miscarriage thinking, dreaming, hoping, fearing, planning. I had a list of names, both for a girl and a boy, I had a way of telling my parents, I had the next 12 months planned out- postpone my studies for a year and then go to uni. People studied with babies all the time, right?

In the early hours of the morning, on the 10th of August in 2006, I woke up to incresingly worse cramping, and bedding covered in blood. It was like something from a horror film, the tomato sauce thing, except it was worse than that. I was pregnant, and at the tender age of 17, I was thrust into the world and language of miscarriage and grief.

I showered, washed the blood away, only to make more, all the while, numb.

At the time, I lived at home with my parents. My mother dropped me to school early, a lie-the first of many- that I told that day, wishing me a good day as I got out of the car.

When I knew she couldn’t see me, I walked the short distance to the emergence department, where I was told “Your baby died, I’m sorry. But you’re young, so it was probably for the best.”

That was the beginning of my journey.

Its taken me 5 long years to accept the hand I have been dealt, and this year, on the anniversary of my first miscarriage. Each year, this day hits me with an overwhelming tide of emotion and grief.

This year?

This year is ok. This year, I am ok.

I am ok.

Lily Natalie Anne, you came into my world as such a surprise, and left it too quickly.

You will forever be my first baby, my love, my inspiration.

I love you.

<3

There’s support, and then there’s “Like us because we’ll support you better!!”

Facebook is an amazing thing. For a long time after my first miscarriage, I felt as though I was lost, alone.

Then, gradually, I was introduced to more and more support and memorial sites on FB.

It started out as great support. I was free to talk about my baby all I wanted, I met other people on the same journey as me. Then, as the support groups ( all not for profit) became more and more, the “support” lessened, and the “likes” began.

I have only managed to find a couple of sites where the emphais is providing support, and not on how many people “like” the group, or how many people have donated to it, or spreading awareness of each individual group so that someone can be supported by “x” group as opposed to “y” group, because they do a “better” job of providing thier serivices.

It is not about numbers or money. It is about heart.

I’ve struggled with providing information to parents following a loss, as I do not want to direct them somewhere where they are just a number, or after a while, they’re asked to donate money.

There are only a handful of sites I direct people to now, and I have never, ever been asked to donate money, or to tell as many people as possible about the grief support site.

If you’re an active member of a grief support group, or the founder of one- remember support should come from the heart. There are many ways in which you can do this without having to ask for money or advertising.  It is just about thinking outside the square.

I know of a group that essentially runs itself- where parents talk to each other when they need it-and it did not cost anything. Except passion and love that drove it.

Support groups should be about heart, not numbers.