Category: Lily

Last weekend, I attended one of those “party planning” parties- you know the ones where you’re able to shop from home, and trial their wares.

A feature of many of these types of businesses is that if bookings are made by guests, there are all sorts of sweet bonuses.

Me,being me, decided I’d have a party. The woman consulted her diary, and was adamant that I have my party on August 11.

August 10 marks 6 years to the day since I lost Lily, and had my first miscarriage.

While the last few years have been remarkably easier on me, in the lead up to, on and after her day, I cannot predcit how I will travel emotionally.

This woman could tell I was all. But given the fact it is her job to achieve sales and party bookings, she backed me into a corner for it.

I really hate pushy people. I really really do. I am also really irritated at myself for caving and not saying “That’s the day after the anniversary of my daughter’s death, fuckstick, I don’t want this date, ok!?”

Could have, should have, didn’t.


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.

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 (, 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. ❤ 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.


Lily Natalie

“Little Speck”

James Michael

Kylie Rose

Daniel Bishop

Lilla Bjorn


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.

For those of you who do not know, August 19th is the “Day of Hope”started by Carly at Names in the Sand ( It is a day where babyloss mammas and daddys can give and donate memory boxes and significan items to a hopsital in memory of their child that died. This year is the first year that I am particiapting.

I am aiming for 5 boxes in total. Two are for babies who are stillborn, and 3 are for parents who experience early pregnancy loss. In each box will be two blankets, a face washer, a candle holder and candle, a photo frame with one of the Day of Hope images in it, a journal and information on where to recieve help in coping with the loss.

Each box will be donated with a message; “In loving memory of”. Each box will be donated in memory of my babies, as well as close friend’s babies.

The idea is that parents will not go home empty handed, and that pregnancy and infant loss will not be taboo any longer.

I thank you Carly, and the team at Project Heal for giving me the inspiration to participate in memory.

Not too many people in my “real” life know that I have had two miscarriages. Not many people know how devestating I found each of them. Not many people know just how deeply my longing to becomg a mother really is.

Because not many people know, all of Lily’s and Speck’s momentos- the majority of them- live in boxes ( beautiful ones, but still boxes) at the top of my wardrobe. It saddens me that their belongings do not have a space in my home, because I share it with 3 other people, two of which have no idea of this side of me.

I do, despite all of the above, have items in my living area- for them. Ones that are discreet in meaning, so that I do not have to explain them. I have two framed, stunning images from Carly Marie ( on my wall. One is of a butterfly under a mutli-coloured sunset, the other of two hearts under the same sunset.

I also have a framed photo on my bookshelf of a heart in the sand from Carly’s site. This has two candles next to it. Most days, I have these candles burning to remind me of the lives I carried within me.

I have candles lit most days, as a reminder. No one questions this, no one thinks anything of it.

In our bedroom, I have an “inspiration board”- a canvas wrapped with string with items on it that remind me of Lily. Next to that, I have her bear, and next to that I have a scented pink candle that is lit most nights.

Most days, I wear a discreet piece of jewellery- the one that I recieved on Lily’s birthday this year. This reminds me of them every day, and brings me peace when I wear it.

Even though my children do not have a specific place in my home, I have discreet, beautiful reminders of them. These reminders ease the pain, and are beautiful reminders of their brief lives.

K, I hope some of this helps. It is ok to have your children’s memorial displayed in your home- keeping it discreet makes it all the more sweeter xxx

About life after loss, and how being given the opportunity to be around and nurture Other People’s Babies (OPB’s- or kids) has been the thing that has “most” helped me heal- that and the volunteer work I do in the BabyLost community.

While I was having a think about what I could post about, this feeling of overwheling sadness came over me. This has been happening for a few days.

It is Little Speck’s first birthday next week. On June 15th ( give or take a number of days) he would have been a happy, healthy little one year old. I still wonder about that little baby, taken away far too soon. I wonder who he would have taken after? Would he have my artisic streak? His father’s laid-back nature? My family’s sporting passion?

This wonderment, and the fear that goes along with life post-miscarriage, it is a hard place. It scares me to no end that I “could” have had a 4 -year- old- child, and an almost one-year-old.  But in amongs the fear is pride. I am so proud of my babes, even though they did not stay for long.

Fear, wonderment, pride, loss. I guess it reflects every day life really.

If she had been born on her due-date, she would have been 4 yesterday.

The day passed quietly.

I woke up from a dream in which I was crying about Lily. I cannot remember why I was crying, but I know it was about her. I woke up, and realised that my cheeks were damp with tears. I wasn’t just crying in my dream. I was actually crying. Waking up to these sorts of things is always offputting.

My partner rang me at about 10am, for a “chat” he said. I wondered if he had remembered what day it was, but there was a part of me that was too shy to ask if he had remembered. We had a quick chat before I went to work on an assessment for uni.

I did an entire assessment on my daughter’s birthday.

I was so proud of myself for this fact.

DF came home, and asked me if I was doing anything, and kept pressing even after I said “I am going to the beach”. I ended up snapping at him “I am going to the beach because I am meeting up with a friend because it is Lily’s 4th birthday today!!!” ( So there).

He seemed a bit taken aback that I had ripped his head off and fed it to the demon that is my emotions at the moment. Well, I didn’t feed it to the demon, but he definitely didn’t deserve a head riping off.

So I went to the beach. I met my friend there, who gave me the most beautiful gift- a necklace with sand from “The Children’s Beach” (, a “Hope Treasure”- a handmade ceramic ‘tag’ with a pattern printed on it, and a gorgeous little butterfly.

On the way to the beach, I had a moment where the grief came flooding back, my chest got tight, and I couldn’t hold the tears back. I was waiting at a set of lights, in peak hour traffic, crying. This episode lasted for about 2 minutes, then I was ok again. I think I needed that moment, and I am glad to say that was the only one I had for the whole day. It gets easier each year.

We sat, and talked, and watched the sun set. It was a beautiful evening, to simply just spend time with someone else who “gets it”.

I got home, and realised how exhausted I was. I was in bed by 9pm. DF came to bed not too long after me and said “I’m worried about you. You’re shutting yourself off from em again. Getting anything personal from you is like getting blood from a rock”.

So the whole story spilled. I admitted I didn’t say anything about Lily’s birthday because I was worried he’d think I was being silly after so long. He shook his head at me, and held me close, reminding me that I didn’t need to feel that way, and I should know that! I also admitted to him I still had no idea where my mega bitch/snappy/horrible/rip-your-hrad-off-and-feed-it-to-my-demon-emotions person was coming from. So, I have made an appointment to see a counsellor, to see if talking through my extreme anger ( I get so ANGRY, so fast, over the tiniest of issues- SO ANGRY!) and tiredness, and the fact I am uterly unmotivated when it comes to EVERYTHING, in particualr my uni work.

I am also going to make an appointment to see a naturopath, to see if there is something that my doctor has missed, or cannot pinpoint. I saw one when I was younger to kick start my body into working properly. ( WhenI was about 10, I was diagnosed with Alopecia, a disease that triggers hair loss from stress) It made a difference then, so I am wondering if it will help this time round. It’s going to be expensive ( $120.00 for the initial session), but hopefully worth it.

So DF knows all of this now, and has offered to help out in anyway he can. I know in my heart I need to stop being a mega-bitch to him as soon as he walks in the door, and begin to talk, really talk, to him about what is going on.

So, that was Lily’s 4th birthday.

I hope you had a great day Lily-Bug, and you were spoiled rotten by the other kids.

The day I lost Lily, nearly 5 years ago now, I left the hospital with nothing. Nothing to say “my baby existed”. Only I knew she was here, on this earth for such a short amount of time.

So, what the last 5 years has consisted of is creating tangible, beautiful memories from nothing. Taking moments of beauty, creating moments of beauty and remembering them, in this world of life after loss.

What I now have is a gorgeous box of her momentoes, a blog of memories, a Fa.Ce.Book. profile of friends who have walked my shoes, I am providing support to so many parents, I have helped organise THE most beautiful event for October 15th last year, and now I am about to embark on my latest memory making feat.

This new feat is currently under wraps, but all I can say is that it solves the problem of leaving the hospital empty handed following a pregnancy loss.

I can only hope that this project creates beautiful memories following loss.

I now have a lifetime of beautiful memories to remember, friends to cherish and two little lives I shall never forget.

Some days, this is exactly how I feel- like I am adapting to suit my environment.

It’s funny how I can change so much to suit what is happening.

I can heatedly debate teaching with the best of them- what management style is good, why public is better than private, how your final exams are not the be all and end all.

I can talk cars, V8’s, engines, models, colours when I am with my partner’s friends.

I can be the listening friend when it comes to nasty divorces and court proceedings.

I can “like” talk “like” a “like” teenager, where needed to the kids in my classes.

I can talk customer service with the best of them, I know rights, and where to get help involved for disgruntled customers.

I can talk house designs, suburbs, prices, loans, interest rates.

I can even talk kids. I can have an entirely one sided conversation about breastfeeding, I know cures for morning sickness, I know what markers the doctors are looking for at a 19-20 week anatomy scan, I can discuss the pros and cons of disciplining small children, I know what allergies to ask after when I am babysitting or cooking for kids.

I can gossip with the best of them, I can talk crap, I can ramble, I can laugh, cry, I can talk.

I just don’t understand why I cannot talk about the world I know best aloud.

The world of loss and grief.

I cannot change my skin enough to be able to speak of this aound, to just anyone…

Its a weird feeling.