Wednesday 30 December 2015

Christmas past

Once again, on this Christmas Day just passed, I was reminded of those people who truly empathise and try to understand what my husband and I are going through, and those who just carry on oblivious to the reality of our world.

I received beautiful cards, messages and meaningful gifts in our babies' honour from four people (and one lovely soul here on my blog). Memorial charms, gorgeous symbolic earrings, heartfelt words in a card, a donation to SANDS in their honour... to know that these few people understood that Christmas would be a tough day for us made it a little easier to bear.

On the other had I had people asking why we weren't attending family Christmas, choosing instead to spend the day on our own. People asking if we had "a great Christmas" or if we had "enjoyed" our day. Depending who these inquiries came from I was able either to give a short, sweet answer... or just stare in disbelief that they had asked such a thing.

I know there are many others out there who struggle with the loss of a loved one at this time of year, no matter the age they were. For us, it was also the first Christmas without my grandfather who was very much the centre of events at family gatherings, taking the role of Santa to hand out the gifts.

Maybe next year, instead of asking people to remember my babies with me (and being disappointed when they don't) I'll try to ask for people to be gentle with the hearts of all those they know who are missing someone special at Christmas.


Sunday 6 December 2015

5 Ways to honor the child your friend lost this Christmas

If you have been keeping up with this blog you will have noticed that the posts recently are few and far between. This article almost perfectly explains why...

5 ways to honor the child your friend lost


If you are a mom, you know that something about Christmas changes when you have a child. Even before your little ones are old enough to understand anything about the meaning of Christmas, there is enough different about this time of year for them to take notice. The lights, decorations, and music make for a whole different level of fun and wonder exclusive to the month of December. And you remember these feelings even as a grown-up.
That is one reason why the holidays are so hard for someone who has lost a child, whether in pregnancy, infancy, or any other stage of life. She remembers what Christmas was like in previous years, even as a child. She imagines what Christmas would have been like this year. She thinks about whose faces would have been in the Christmas family picture. She contemplates what presents she would have bought or how she might have announced her pregnancy in her Christmas card this year.
But these things won’t be happening, and so she pastes a fake smile on her face for the times when she has to go out into the Christmas bustle and she holes up at home as much as she can for the rest of the time. It takes energy to grieve, and energy to hide your grief, and that makes the holiday season exhausting. For many bereaved parents, the top of their Christmas wish list is to just survive the season and start over on January 1.
Do you have a friend going through Christmas without one or more of her children?
You can’t say or do or give anything that will fix your friend’s pain. It is too great, too deep, too rooted in love, for anything to fix. But you can say or give or do something that will soften the sharp edge of grief and help her feel less alone.
Here are five things you can do to bless her this year. (And no, I’m not forgetting the dad. But I am assuming that most of you reading this are women reaching out to a female friend, so the focus is “her”… although they are great tips for dads as well.)

1. Gift her with understanding.

If she chooses not to decorate, or not to attend a party, or not to participate in a family gathering, give her a break. Don’t even raise an eyebrow about it. There will be other years. She needs to take care of herself right now without any guilt or pressure from friends and family. Don’t give her advice or tell her how she should be feeling or even point out all the blessings in her life. Just be there with her and for her. That is what she needs.

2. Gift her with something that remembers her child.

A memorial ornament or jewelry is great this time of year. Don’t wonder if she will like it or if she already has one. Trust me, you can’t have too many. If you know her child’s name, include it. If your church offers poinsettias in honor or in memory of someone, purchase one and let her know. Or do it at her church, even if you don’t attend there.

3. Gift her with something that will help her heal.

But be careful with this. Even if you have walked this path, what helped you heal may not help her, so offer it with gentle humility. Some ideas might be a book for a bereaved parent, or a CD with music that could comfort, or even a gift card for dinner out. If you know of a local support group, tell her about it. Offer to go with her.

4. Gift her by blessing someone else in the name of her child.

It can be “adopting” a child through Angel Tree or even a longer commitment through a group like World Vision or Samaritan’s Purse. If the family has set up a memorial fund in their child’s name, donate to it or to another ministry in her child’s memory. If there is a local outreach to other bereaved parents, like Naomi’s Circle Mommy to Mommy Outreach, find out how you can donate or help this cause. It is a wonderful gift to know your child’s existence has encouraged someone else to make a positive difference in the world.

5. Gift her by not forgetting.

Tell her, out loud or in a card or e-mail, that you are thinking of her child as the holidays approach. Especially if this is her first Christmas since her child’s death, but even if it isn’t. I am five years out from my first loss, my daughter Naomi. I am five days out from my most recent pregnancy loss. This time of year, I miss them both the same, and the other three I lost between them. Don’t worry about making her sad by “reminding” her that her child died. You won’t. You will be letting them know someone else remembers.
Whatever you do for your friend this Christmas, don’t do nothing. Don’t ignore her loss and grief for the sake of holiday pleasantness. Let her know that she and her child are not forgotten and that her child’s life made a difference in in yours. More than anything, that will help make this a Christmas that she wants to remember.
Are you or someone you love grieving a lost child this holiday season? What additional advice do you have?

Found: http://columbiasc.citymomsblog.com/5-ways-to-honor-the-child-your-friend-lost-this-christmas/ 

Monday 16 November 2015

Another milestone


It is now six months since the last time I was pregnant. That means back to the doctor to find out what's next. I don't even know what to think. My sister asked me today if we had given up trying... is that where we are up to?

Whenever I mention this, I'm told that we have plenty of time yet and the conversation moves on (or ends), so I haven't really had a chance to think or talk it through. Maybe we do just stop. There is so much else going on with house hunting and our home business taking off so maybe it is one less thing to worry about.

I just feel like time is passing and the impact it is having on the rest of our lives and on our mental and physical health is growing.

I suppose the truth of it is Christmas is coming and we should have been celebrating our first Christmas as a little family - if any of our first 3 babies had made it home with us. I'm probably doing that thing of trying to protect myself from more hurt by thinking that if we are not trying then we can't be disappointed.

I will go back to the doctor, but I might give it a couple of weeks, I'm not up to it just yet.


Friday 30 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 30, Reflection

The prompt for today says:
Take today to reflect on this past month. What is your relationship with grief like right now? Is it still the same? Has anything changed? What have you learned about yourself and your grief? Did you love anything about this project? What did you find difficult?

I've struggled to think for a way to make coherent sense of the multitude of fragments in my mind as I look at this prompt. I think it is beyond me at the moment, so here's just a few of the 'tabs' open in my brain at the moment.

I hate that I feel like this. I hate that this has had such an impact on my husband. People often talk about all they have learned from their experiences with baby loss and although that may be true, a part of me still wishes it had never happened. Maybe this is because we never actually got to meet or hold any of our babies. Maybe this is because the only time anyone has ever called my husband 'dad' is the ultrasound tech whose next words were, "There's no heartbeat."

Some days are better than others, and it is a vicious cycle. Literally, as it is pretty much tied to my cycle. When AF arrives we go through the feelings of failure all over again. When my fertile window approaches I get unreasonably optimistic that maybe this time things will be different. During the TWW I curse myself for even daring to believe that I'll ever have a child to hold in my arms... and then it repeats.

I feel completely overwhelmed most of the time. Things that maybe in the past would have thrown me for an hour or two now seem to blow me off course for weeks. There have been plenty of big things happening too and that just makes it harder. And then I wonder if the toll this is all taking physically and emotionally is contributing to it all. In August, my grandfather passed away. That's both my grandfathers in one year, although I didn't really know one of them at all. Then a few short weeks later in September was the anniversary of our second miscarriage. This is always the toughest one for me, as following the first I had assumed it couldn't possibly happen again and that everything would be fine. Then October and not only a whole month dedicated to trying to process our losses,  but also the one year anniversary of my father-in-law's passing. It still breaks my heart that no one on my side of the family even acknowledged this day. Not even a "thinking of you" type message. Nothing. It's also now 6 months since the last time I was pregnant and so that brings the prospect of going back to the FS for more tests and whatever news that may bring. And that's to say nothing of changes at my work, at hubby's work and the whole stress of house hunting.

One of the most difficult things about this month of reflecting on our losses has been the three lovely ladies at my work all expecting their first babies at the end of this year, and seeing them everyday. I saw them each individually to pass on my wishes and give little gifts that I had made for them, and explained that I wouldn't be at the combined baby shower the following day. They were much more understanding than the rest of the staff. They all finish work today so I will be interested to see how this changes things over the remainder of the year.

  

There are many more thoughts running through my mind, but at the moment, its too much. Here's hoping tomorrow is a brighter day.


Wednesday 28 October 2015

Capture Your Grief - Day 28, Reach Out

The prompt for today says:
Our world is hurting so badly right now. We need to give out more love, there needs to be more acts of compassion and kindness. I always found that when I was feeling my worst in grief, the only thing that would help was if I did something for someone else. It helped to pull me out of some very dark places. Today do something compassionate and kind for someone else. It might be as simple as lending a helping hand to someone in need, or making a donation to a worthy cause. Set an intention to spread as much love as possible today.
I had no idea what the prompt for today was when I sat down to write. The last few weeks have been pretty tough for us and the thought of sitting down to focus on our losses was just one thing too many for me to face. Today I don't feel the apprehension and sadness that has been following me around. I can't even say exactly why, as the last two days have probably been two of the worst for a long time.

When I first saw the prompt I thought about it in the sense of reaching out to others who have experienced the loss of a baby, or reaching out to family and friends and asking for help when you need it. The first is something I do willingly, the second, not so much as much of the heartache we continue to feel comes from the words and actions of our family and friends.

I guess my way of reaching out today is more of the first, and more focussed on the intention of this prompt. Our way of reaching out is to support sands.org.au. This amazing organisation offers support to parents facing miscarriage, stillbirth or new born death and was a place I turned to a lot in the weeks and months following our first miscarriage.

When we decided to have a go at starting our own business, we named it in honour of our angel babies and decided to donate 50% of all profits during the month our little one was due to Sands. On October 15th this year, as we lit a candle for our babies, we decided to permanently donate 5% of all our profits to Sands. We also have a downloadable print (about to be re-designed) that we donate 100% of the profits all year round.

If you want to check it out, here it is.

I don't know that it makes me feel any better to donate to such a great organisation. I'm happy that we are able to to, but at the same time, I can't help thinking that I wish I didn't even know they existed. I certainly had no idea two years ago.

Saturday 10 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 10 - Words



The prompt for today says:
Writing is a wonderful tool for healing. When you put your pen to paper you may have no idea where you are going or where you will end up and that is the beauty of it. It is your own adventure.
Sometime I feel like I have no words. I have said everything that I can say and there is nothing left to explain the pain, anger, frustration, guilt and loss that I feel. That's how I have been feeling the last few days.

You may notice a gap in the entries, I have missed a few days. I looked at those topics and I had nothing to say. I couldn't find the words. Sometimes I feel like there are too many tings in my head happening all at the same time. The best way I can describe it is like an overhead projector with too many transparencies on the screen and everything is jumbled with bits and pieces showing through.

Some transparencies show pictures of positive pregnancy tests. Some show memories of the losses that followed. Yet others show happy smiling faces reflected in photographs from a time when I was pregnant yet had no idea what was about to happen.  Then there are transparencies which hold memories of heartbreaking conversations, each time I have had to tell my husband of a loss, or tell a family member or friend. Then there are the memories of the support I have found in some, and the rejection I have had from others who cannot comprehend our situation. And right at the bottom of the pile is this picture. It is a photograph I took of my arm after having my contraceptive rod removed. I think that of time and I can't believe what has happened in the 20 months since. I can't believe how naive we were and that we thought that we would maybe even be considering a second child by now, let alone struggling to bring home our first.

All of these things flash through my mind all the time, and I don't have the words to explain to people what it is like to live like this.

Tuesday 6 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 6, Books


The prompt for today says:
So many of us turn to reading in the wake of the death of our children. We take solace in other people’s words, stories, journeys and wisdom. Have you read any books that have helped in this journey of healing after loss? 
 I can't say that I have read any books specifically about loss. Not this time anyway. I did read a lot years ago when two very close family friends died tragically and unexpectedly, and it did help. Some.

I usually read as a means of escape. To be taken away to another world completely. Or I read autobiographies, a way of normalising heartache really. It happens to all of us, just in different ways.

One thing I have found really useful though is to read blogs and online magazines from the baby loss community. I have linked a few on the blog before, but here they are for easy reference:

Still Mothers: Living Childless After Loss
Still Standing Magazine: Surviving Child Loss and Infertility
SANDS Australia: Miscarriage, Stillbirth and Newborn Death Support

Monday 5 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 5, Empathy.

The Tessellated Pavement in Tasmania
is a pretty good representation of how my heart feels.

The prompt for today says:
So often in this community of bereaved parents we speak about all the things that friends and family should not say to us. There are countless articles about things never to say to a bereaved parent but not as many on actual things to say to a bereaved parent. If we want to break the silence surrounding baby and child loss we need to communicate our needs of what people can do and say to help. We must educate society on what real empathy is. What does empathy look like for you. What do you wish people would have said to you? How could they have helped you better?
I have done this myself. One of the last posts I wrote before starting Capture your Grief was on exactly this topic.

I think the reason that there are so many articles like this is precisely because pregnancy and baby loss is such a taboo subject in much of our society. People don't want to talk about it, so when the need does arise, they have no idea what to say. The grieving parent is so aware of the awkwardness of other people, yet we are the ones who are told to make accommodations for the words and behaviour of others, that just seems so backwards to me.

What do I wish people had said?
I'm so sorry.
I'm here if you need to talk, and I'll talk to you again soon.

What do I wish people had done?
Just be around me, even when I didn't much feel like talking.
Actually be there for me if you say you will be, and don't always put the onus on to me to reach out.
Talk to me about the mundane, everyday parts of life and what YOU are doing.
Not make my loss about them, why I didn't tell them or why I hadn't told them sooner.
Not avoid me, especially if they are pregnant themselves.

I actually read an article recently that confirmed on of my worst fears about being 'that friend'. I have written before about feeling like a friend had been avoiding me, then finding out she was expecting and hadn't wanted to upset me. That I can understand, and she hadn't waited too long, I was just super sensitive about why she had stopped talking to me so much. However, this article, written by a woman who was expecting, said she actually DID avoid friends who had lost children because she sisn't want their bad luck to somehow rub off on her.

So the biggest way you can show empathy? Don't make someone feel like they are 'contagious' in their grief.





Sunday 4 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 4, Dark & Light



The prompt for today says:
Today we are acknowledging the dark and the light sides of grief. The ugly and the beauty. The bitter and the sweet. The anger and the peace.
I'm not really sure where to go with this. As anyone reading this blog probably knows, I have really been struggling to find the "light" in any of this. That is not to say that my life is all doom and gloom, it's just that there is nothing in this situation, in the loss of all those pregnancies, that I can think of as beautiful, sweet or light.

Maybe that's because we never got to meet any of our babies. I often read on blogs about these types of loss that people have memories of their child to hold on to. Photographs. Feeling their child in their arms or other lovely feelings that, while full of the pain of loss, can also bring them comfort and peace.  We don't have this.

The closest I come are the nights between learning of each pregnancy and then losing it, that we would lie in the dark and whisper our hopes and dreams for each little life. But at the moment any peace to be found there is overshadowed by the ugly, bitter and angry aside of grief.

If I really try, I can see a few positives that have come from our experiences. Our marriage has grown stronger, but it almost tore us apart. I have also been able to connect with other women who have experiences similar things and offer some support to them, but at the cost of many personal friendships.

So I don't know. I'm not even trying to find anything good in this situation, I'm just trying to come to a point where I can accept that this is the way our life as a family has turned out so far, and to try to look towards the future with some hope. That's all I can do.

Saturday 3 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 3, In Honour



The prompt for today says...
Who are you doing this project in loving memory of? Share their name. Share their story. Share who they are to you. This is a time to shine a light on your children and tell the world about them.
Not everyone knows that we have lost four babies. The first is a secret to almost all, after all, I thought that's what you did. If you haven't told people you are pregnant, why would you tell them you have had a miscarriage?

Some people only know about the second, and mostly only because I was in hospital. I also felt the need to talk about this little one because I had naively assumed that because I had already had a miscarriage, this time everything would be be fine. There is a photo of hubby and I taken the day before I started bleeding and it makes me cry to look at. I can't believe the pure happiness on our faces, were we really that naive?

A few people know about the third as I was at school when I started bleeding. Having already had a positive test, and pregnancy confirmed by the doctor I will never forget being asked "Are you sure it's not just your period?"

The fourth a few more people know about. I just couldn't believe it had happened again. But still, unlike the time I was hospitalised and everyone wanted to tell everyone else, there was almost a sense of, oh another one ok then.

Two very special people remembered us on Mother's Day and Father's Day. They are two of the few people who know about all our babies and the toll this has taken on us.

This is part of what I find so painful about being around pregnant people. Everyone talks to them about their babies, their hopes and dreams, but no one asks us. We spent hours bonding over those babies (yes, some longer than others) we had talked about when they were due, the time of year that would be, how old they would be by their first Christmas, so many things. Our second baby was due exactly in between both our birthdays and we had talked about how great it would be to have a "Birthmonth" rather than just a birthday.

I know it is impossible to ask for others to honour our babies, they either understand or they don't. But we can honour them in how we live, and also the memory of how their fleeting lives changed ours.

Some people know that I wear a special necklace as a memorial for our babies. It is an iron ore heart that I had used to keep my old wedding ring in. I bought a Pandora heart charm to wear with it, so it is close to my heart and to my wedding ring. Whenever I feel discouraged or overwhelmed I hold on to it. It is enough to ground me, and for now, that's good enough.

For more information on the Capture Your Grief project, see http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/capture-your-grief-2015

Friday 2 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 2, Intention

 The prompt for today says:

Set yourself a new intention to inspire your next path in grief and healing. It might be to live your life with more kindness or maybe you might intend to live your life more wholeheartedly in honour of your children. Spend some time with this one. Go and get some fresh air. What is it that you want out of this project?

This is something I am struggling with. My honest intention is to live life to the fullest, to experience those things that my babies will never be able to. I don't meaning climbing Everest or bungy jumping, I mean being fully present in every moment, making time for those I love, using my days for good, a feeling of having completed or achieved something...

The trouble is, I am not really doing this. I'm still really hurt by what some people have said or done to us, so I avoid them. maybe even when I know they need me. I avoid talking to people because I don't want to have to pretend to be ok, or I don't want every conversation we have to lead to tears.

I miss out on doing things, because it is far easier to stay at home hidden safely away than to cope with the what ifs, what if I see someone I know, what if they ask me one of seemingly a million questions that will put me on edge (even though I am already on edge just waiting for the questions to come!).

I don't even feel like I am using my time well. Some days I am a flurry of activity and everything is done. Not just the washing or the cleaning, but the shopping, a new blog post, new items finished and listed on my etsy, a shower and freshly washed hair, and I go out not just for groceries but to look for craft supplies I don't even really need. Other days, hubby calls to say he's on his way home from work and I realise the whole day has passed and I haven't done anything.

I know all these things are ok. But at the same time, I get a little mad at myself for not pulling myself together. I don't want to 'get over it' but I desperately want to 'get on with it' and I feel like I am failing not only the memory of my babies, but also my husband, and myself.

So even though I may fail, I will keep trying. I intend to live my life to the full in honour of my precious babies.


On a good day.
Hubby and I out hiking in the Grampians.




For more information, see http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/capture-your-grief-2015

Thursday 1 October 2015

Capture Your Grief: Day 1, Sunrise



The prompt for today says...

Make yourself a nice cup of tea and sit down to breathe in the fresh air, the scent of the new morning and all of the colours and sounds as they transform around you. Take some time to breathe the sunrise in.  Spend some time reflecting upon your children and your journey so far.

This past year has been really tough for us. We try to take every day as a new beginning, but sometimes it is hard. I don't want to start again. I want my life to go back to where it was heading, to where I thought it was supposed to be.

This morning was beautiful. The sky was clear, the air so crisp. We're lucky here to be surrounded by trees and the scent of the eucalyptus, and the jasmine next door, was lovely. When I really focus on these things, practice a little mindfulness, it's almost possible for just a second to forget that there is pain in the world. Everything seems so still and perfect.

The baby loss club is one that no one wants to be a part of. There are so many women who suffer this pain silently. My thoughts are with them today. The women who haven't reached out, who haven't discovered the wonderful support available through this community, even if it is just reading the stories of others online.


For more information, see http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/capture-your-grief-2015 

Capture Your Grief 2015





I had a go at this last year, but the pain of two miscarriages, the most recent only days before, made it too painful to really focus on our losses. This year, with another two losses since, I am not sure how I'll go, but I am willing to give it a try.

I will post as often as I can, some may be backdated and I may miss some all together,  but I encourage you to journey with me and feel free to comment.

For more info, check out http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/capture-your-grief-2015

Sunday 27 September 2015

One year ago today


This is me, one year ago today. Lying in a hospital bed, waiting for the scan that would tell me we had lost our baby.

This is the lost that hit us hardest, maybe due in part to the fact that we were in a hospital, rather than the safety and quietness of our own home. A hospital makes it real, clinical, official. There's no escape.

One year ago today was the first time, and the last time, anyone other than me called my husband 'dad' and that still breaks me.

Even in the midst of all that pain, I thought, it'll be ok, by this time next year I'll have a baby, or at least be pregnant again. That hasn't happened. And now, I can't even imagine that by this time next year anything will have changed for us expect maybe we will have had a few more tests or be following a different fertility plan.

In the meantime, I am spending today putting everything I can into the business that our little one inspired. Making new items for little ones who arrive safely in their parents' arms brings some kind of peace. And today, that is enough.

Wednesday 23 September 2015

Why don't you say what you really mean?


This isn't going to be one of those happy, uplifting or inspirational posts you read about those who have suffered miscarriage. It's about the judgmental, heartbreaking and guilt laden conversations that surround this subject.

I've been told not to take the careless things that people say when I tell them about our miscarriages to heart. After all, I have been told, they're just trying to make the best of an awkward situation, no one really knows what to say. Basically, I have been told more than once, I shouldn't make them feel bad, because at least they are trying.

How about you just think before you speak?

People who suffer miscarriage need love and support, not meaningless platitudes meant to make you feel better because you have to break the awkwardness by saying SOMETHING or in the worst case, saying nothing. After living this awful reality for the past 12 months, here's some things I would like to never hear again.

At least you get to keep trying!
There is nothing fun, romantic or even remotely sexy about having intercourse precisely timed to coincide with fertile windows and ovulation predictor kits. And when you have been trying for months, if not years, on end, it can be hard to remember that there are reasons for sex besides conception. Sure we make a little whoopie outside that ever looming fertile window, but there is no escaping the fact that when the time comes around you really do know that you are 'trying' and it's nothing to look forward to. After all, all that 'trying' has currently only led to failure or to heart ache.

At least you (can) have more kids
There is no way any child we may be blessed enough to welcome in to this world will ever be a replacement for those we have lost. For those who suffer miscarriage and have older living children, it's equally wrong to tell them that they should be satisfied with their living children, “At least you have the older one.”

They're in a better place now
You can't tell me that there is a better place for a child to be than in their mother and father's loving arms. Which leads me to my next point...

Everything happens for a reason/is part of God's plan
You might truly believe this. The person you are saying it to might even believe it. But right at this point, at this time, this is not helpful or healing. It's the equivalent of saying that God wants them to suffer. After all, they are suffering incredible heartache and you are telling them it's God's plan

God never gives us more than we can bear
So the pay off to being a relatively independent, strong willed woman is that I have to suffer miscarriages because I can bear the pain and heart ache? Or are you saying something worse, that I couldn't handle being a mother so God has put a stop to it?

Maybe God is trying to teach you something
I've heard this a lot. Maybe God is trying to teach me patience. Maybe God is trying to teach me resilience. Maybe God is trying to teach me a whole myriad of things. Even if this is true, how does telling me this help? Does it make our loss less painful? Does it bring our baby back?

There must have been something wrong with the baby
Logically, we know this is true. We even heard it from the doctors. We know (now) the statistics about miscarriage. But this doesn't help. Once you find out that you are pregnant, your whole world changes. You begin to imagine a life full of possibilities for this child and what this will mean for you and your family. I have though about holding my babies in my arms for so long, don't make me think of them in pain or suffering. Please.

At least it was early
In a place where a woman has the right to an abortion until 24 weeks gestation, there are many people who think that a pregnancy lost in the first trimester 'isn't really a baby' or that there is no way anyone could have formed an attachment to an unborn child. Wrong on both counts.

You wouldn't have even known you were pregnant years ago
I probably would have, you know. Just because, as you put it, tests these days are so sensitive, doesn't mean that I wouldn't have noticed my usual 31 clockwork cycle was out by a few weeks. Doesn't mean that I wouldn't have noticed any of the other physical symptoms that go along with early pregnancy. What are you really trying to say, that even if I was pregnant, it would be better if I hadn't known about it?

It's not your fault
Again, I know this is true, but that still doesn't change the feelings of guilt or failure that I might feel knowing that my body couldn't do the thing that so many women seem to be able to manage without trying. By telling me not to feel guilty, that it isn't my fault, you shut down the conversation and take away my chance to talk about these feelings.

Lots of people have miscarriages
Yeah they do. Lots of people lose their parents and their children to, but I have yet to hear anyone tell a grieving relative at the graveside that a lot of people die. So why try to minimise or explain away the loss of an unborn child?

The risk goes up as you get older
Thanks for that. I didn't know. I mean, in all the 18 months of trying to start a family, all the medical tests, not one doctor had ever mentioned that age was a factor. So thank you for adding yet another layer to the guilt that I feel.

You just have to relax/don't stress
Sure. I'll just flip that “Stress Switch”to the off position, shall I? I do as much as I can to make sure we have a happy, healthy and relatively stress free home life, but if you are telling me that stress is causing my miscarriages, or is the reason it's taking longer to conceive between each one, then thank you for that extra layer of guilt you have just added.

You'll have kids one day
You mean I will have kids here with me on earth. After all, I have children, my angle babies. But you're talking about 'take home babies'. Maybe. You don't know that. I don't know that. In fact, after multiple miscarriages, the odds are quickly going down. Add to that my increasing age and even daring to hope to have a precious child in my arms seems too optimistic.

It'll be your turn next
I have heard this. And in that time, five others close to me have fallen pregnant. You have no way of knowing who will be 'next' and that kind of false optimism, wishful thinking, doesn't change the fact that it should have been my turn now.

You could always adopt
Why didn't you adopt? Because you want to create new life with your partner? Because you want to experience pregnancy for yourself? Why should I be denied that experience? Yes, the consequences are tough, but there is a reward at the end that we are not willing to give up on yet. The road to adoption isn't so easy either.

You can have mine!
Right up there with hearing people complain about how terrible their children or their spouses are. You are so blessed. Sure, people should be allowed to vent, but just think before you open your mouth. This is right up there with telling me that at least I am an Aunty, or that I can babysit their kid any time. As if that is ever going to be a substitute for the children we have lost.

Make the most of it, sleep in, go out, etc
You can reel off a list longer than your arm of all the things that are so great about being child-free, but the fact is, I am 37. We have been married for 6 years. We have done all these things, and intend to keep doing them in the meantime, but would you seriously trade in your own child for a few hours sleep? Why should we have to settle for dinner in a fancy restaurant rather than dinner in a home filled with the noise, laughter and love of a growing family?

How are you feeling?
This question, and it's horrible twin, “Are you feeling better yet?” are asked a multitude of times, and some people are able to accept my honest answer. At the same time, it does get tiresome to be constantly telling people that you're having a rough day, that you haven’t got dressed today or out of bed, and to know that they are thinking how much time has passed and that you really should snap out of it. And in a way, it feels like betrayal, to say I feel ok feels like saying I am ok with the fact that my babies have died. And I'm really not.

Don't think that talking to someone about their miscarriages is going to upset them. Sure, they might get upset, but they think about their babies all the time, whether you talk about them or not. Only two people have ever asked me if we gave our babies names. Did I cry? Yes. Did it lead to a wonderful conversation about choosing names? Sure did. And if you don't know what to say, and you have to fill that silence so that YOU feel better, try this...

"I can't even imagine how hard this must be. I am here if you ever need to talk. "

Friday 21 August 2015

Nothing to see here...

It's been a while since my last update and nothing much has changed.

I could have posted that I saw what I thought was a BFP was actually an evap line and I am not using the First Response dip strips ever again.

I could have posted that my last cycle was back to normal after a strangely longer cycles last month.

I could have posted that because of that evap line I took another test after AF has passed and saw the same line, only to be followed by a digital test showing clearly Not Pregnant.

I could have posted about being completely downhearted that I am approaching yet another miscarriage anniversary and we still don't have a baby to bring home.

But I didn't.

I'm so tired of posting bad news. I'm completely tired of being told to get over it, keep positive, wait for God or whatever other platitudes I am thrown.

But now I am approaching my next fertile window and that persistent optimism starts creeping back. The little whisper in the heart that says, maybe this is the one.



Wednesday 8 July 2015

Nothing but waiting...



AF took 7 days longer than normal to arrive. A 38 day cycle and I tested almost every day. By the time I was 4 days late and still getting those BFNs I pretty much gave up hope of actually being pregnant and just waited for AF to arrive. It HAS to be the metformin, there's no other explanation. I started spotting at cd36, then nothing cd37... even today when I say AF is here, it's still so light. Maybe I have just forgotten what a normal period feels like, as I have no cramping or anything.

I'm just so upset that I didn't see this coming. I haven't used OPKs for months as my cycle has been so regular, and now I feel like I am starting all over again. The only possible plus to this is that hubby is due to start two weeks leave shortly and, if my cycle returns to normal, that'll be right during the fertile window. He's already indicated that he's hoping to 'get in a few extra tries' so we'll see what happens.

There are so many more things I want to write but I am becoming so conscious of being a grump about all of this. I know that I have changed as a person as a result of our losses, and some of those changes are good. I also know that there are some I have yet to come to terms with, including the friends and family that haven't been supportive of us and I am really struggling to reconcile with what that means for us and our relationships with these people going forward. So many issues to sort through. Looks like we have plenty more time!

Wednesday 1 July 2015

And now for something completely different...

I am sitting here trying not to think about being pregnant. I am officially 1 day late, which never happens, and the line on the HPT was probably an evap as I accidentally fell back to sleep (I can barely hold my pee for longer than 2 hours, so I took it when I got up in the middle of the night). It was so super faint that it probably wasn't even there. But... I have no AF symptoms, and lots of EPS and I am just willing myself to believe that it is just the metformin messing up my cycle.



But all this not thinking reminded me of a little incident when out shopping with hubby on the weekend and I thought I would share. We were on our way home and he asked if we needed to do anything else, so I said, "We could stop at the supermarket for an HPT." He gave me a blank look, "What?" So I said, "We could stop and buy an HPT so I can POAS to see if we have a BPF and I can forget about this TWW." He looked totally confused, so I explained, he nodded and then said, "How do you remember all that so quickly?" Quickly? I've been living in this world for months!

Monday 22 June 2015

Pregnancy announcements (where's the nearest hole, so I may hide?)



I had a feeling my team leader was pregnant, something about the absences and the explanations she gave to others. And the little wink to me after she told someone she wasn't eating properly.

She confirmed this a couple of weeks later, saying she wanted to tell me in private before any announcement was made at work. She's been so good in that regard, and I thanked her. We had a hug, a cry, swapped early pregnancy stories and then that was it. I said I wouldn't ask her anything, but I was happy for her to talk with me if she needed to.

I also had a feeling the other teacher was pregnant. I can't say exactly why, although I did see a hushed conversation between the two of them which may have tipped me off. Turns out they are due 2 days apart.

There's also another teacher I feel sure is pregnant. She's eating differently, has been away a couple of days recently and, more to the point, has been avoiding me like the plague. Which is odd as she is my closest friend at work. So it's either that she doesn't want to tell me something she fears will upset me, or she's doing that thing of avoiding the lady who loses all her babies in case the bad luck rubs off on her. Either way, this one is probably the most hurtful. She didn't even come to ask me how I was feeling after the others announced their pregnancies at a school function and I was visibly upset  (which I hated, but I'm getting used to!) I think that is my biggest clue so far. We'll see.

The day they announced was horrendous. I knew it was coming as my team leader warned me. She said they'd try to do it at a break time so I could slip away for a moment. The whole teaching team would be at an off site professional learning activity, and I told her thank you for thinking of me. I just wanted people to focus on her news, not my reaction to it. In the end, the Principal made the announcement right at the beginning of the day. The Assistant Principal came to warn me, but had the nerve to say that I shouldn't be too upset as 'everyone knows you're trying'. Not everyone knows that we have been successful four times, I wanted to scream back at her, but just forced some kind of smile to my lips.

Only the office manager came right to me after the announcement was made, looking for a tissue. She kept an eye on me all day which was lovely. Support from an unexpected source, when as I said, my closest friend at school didn't even ask once if I was doing ok.

I cried on and off for the next half hour or so. I just wanted to be anywhere but there. I don't think it's jealousy as I am genuinely happy for these two beautiful ladies and their partners. I think it is anger for myself and for my babies that they were never acknowledged for celebrated in the same way. The only thing worse was lunch, where I had to hear all the questions about tests and scans and food aversions and so on. Again, it was lovely to hear about their experiences, but it was as though I was being deliberately excluded from a club I am very much a part of. Two things made it worse.

One was hearing that at least they were young and things should go well, and that they should be happy they weren't over 35. Unbelievable. Can you not see me sitting right here? Are you saying my losses are my own fault because I left it too late to try to start my family?

The second thing was hearing a mother of 3 saying that she got drunk and ate all sorts of food she 'shouldn't have' the week before her first was born as 'what could go wrong now?' Do you have no idea of the number of still births and babies who dies in the days after they are born? How can you be so blasé?

This past Tuesday was the worst of all. My team leader had been for her 12 week scan the week before and was getting all her results and had announced her pregnancy on Facebook the night before. She came in to work positively beaming and I was so happy for her. But when she started talking about how all her immunisations were up to date and her vitamin levels and so on, I had to go find some other work to do. I couldn't sit there and listen to it. She hadn't been for any preconception appointments, hadn't had any blood tests, just naively went in and everything was working out fine. Pretty sure this one was pure jealousy. I felt like a terrible person but I just couldn't help it. How is this right? How is it fair? What more do we have to do?

The worst thing is this. If finding out a colleague is pregnant can make me feel like this, what will happen when it's a member of my family?


Friday 19 June 2015

So it's PCO...

A lot has happened in the weeks since I last updated this blog.

I passed my 37th birthday, still not pregnant.

We passed the due date of our second angel baby.

My sister in law gave birth to her second child.

Hubby's birthday passed.

Two colleagues announced their pregnancies at work.

I went for a 3D ultrasound and was told I have PCO.

Sometimes I just want to hide. It feels like it is all too much, I seem to be just drifting from one day to another, not hiding from anything but not really dealing with it either.

My birthday was hard. I should have had a tiny 8 week old baby. I should have been pregnant, about to give birth. I should have been ready to announce a pregnancy. I should have been going for my first ultrasound. Instead, I was sitting in a restaurant being told that I should be happy that at least I could have a drink.

Baby's due date came and went. This was the only one who had a confirmed due date, one we had time to get used to and even had a pet name for. This was a hard day. I thought about taking the day, even the morning off work. In the end, I just went in so as not to be home alone.

The arrival of our little niece was uncomfortable. Hubby's family are in the UK and we haven't seen them for almost 3 years. This little one was due about the same time as ours. All his younger siblings have children, 6 between them. I have one niece on my side. As the older siblings in our respective families, we are the ones still waiting.

Hubby's birthday was ok. He doesn't enjoy celebrating at the best of times, I made sure to spoil him. He was just a little sad not to hear from his family until after the day had passed.

The pregnancy announcements at work were hard, as is the day to day reality of working in that environment. More about that in another post I think.

So then came the scan. AT the time, the specialist doing the test said everything looked fine. ''Nice big ovaries with lots of eggs'' was how he put it. Turns out that meant PCO. The fertility specialist doesn't think I have PCOS as my periods are always so regular and I obviously ovulate regularly due to the number of pregnancies. He's prescribed metformin as he told me this can regulate the associated hormone imbalance which he feels is likely the reason behind our losses. he seemed quite optimistic that this would 'do the trick' as he put it.

So at least we have an answer, finally, and a plan of action. I've got a prescription for 4 months. The FS thinks I'll fall again before it runs out, and he's given me a detailed plan of what treatment and appointments I'll have every week up until 12 weeks. I feel unaccountably optimistic this cycle. We managed to dtd at mostly the right time, I'm taking the metformin, that should do the trick! The challenge now will be not letting myself get my hopes too high! Only 4dpo, here's hoping this TWW doesn't drag :)






Wednesday 13 May 2015

My first Mother's Day

How do you even approach Mother's Day when you have lost a child?

What do you say when someone asks you if you have any kids?

How do you react when there are people in your life who don't see you as a mother?

These are things I had never even considered until last year.

One thing I am doing is making sure I talk about it, because there are so many women who live with this experience and face it alone. It's not much, but at least I can say something and hope that someone will hear.

I used to think I would never acknowledge Mother's Day until I had a baby in my arms. Even when I worked out dates with my second pregnancy and saw that I would be due just after Mother's Day. I though, "Oh well, I'll wait till the next year for my first Mother's Day." I'm also ashamed now to say that I felt the same way about Father's Day and didn't even acknowledge my husband as a father last year. In fact, the first time anyone called him "Dad"was the ultrasound tech who confirmed our second miscarriage. That still breaks my heart.

I feel much differently now. I know that I am a mother to babies I will never meet, and that my hubby is father to them. I know that as long as we acknowledge that, it really doesn't matter what other people think. I received messages on Mother's Day from four very special ladies and that meant the world to me. I had already told hubby I didn't want a fuss, just a hug and an acknowledgement of the day, and he was more than happy with that. I just hope that when the time comes people show him that same support.

I'm still stumped on the right way to answer "Do you have kids?'' I want to say yes, but I don't want to have to explain that none of them are living. So I say no. I guess it's because I don't want people thinking or even worse, saying, I am not really a mother.

As silly as it may sound, it was watching "The Fault in Our Stars" that really got me thinking about all this. There is one point when the main character overhears her mother saying that if her daughter dies she wont be a mum any more. She later confronts her and her mother replies that she will always be her mother, no matter what happens. That really stuck with me.

I will always be a mother to my angel babies. I hope one day I'll be able to say that to anyone who asks.


Wednesday 6 May 2015

What to say? What to do?

I will reflect more on my own experiences in the days to come I am sure, but in the meantime, I wanted to share this information that I found.

For the full story, click here

Have you or someone you know lost a child? While Mother’s Day may be a painful trigger for bereaved moms, it is also an opportunity to celebrate these women and their children. Here are some ideas to honour them this Mother’s Day:
1. Affirm her identity as a motherA woman’s love for her deceased child never dies, nor does her motherhood. Celebrate the mom who carried her baby, no matter how briefly, and is strong enough to wake up each day and keep going after the death of that child. Recognize her by wishing her a “Happy Mother’s Day;” she is a mother and deserves happiness. Let her know you are thinking of her.  
2. Celebrate her childTalk about the baby that died and use the child’s name. Look at pictures and discuss the experience. Bereaved mothers will generally commemorate the anniversaries of the baby’s birth and death, but Mother’s Day provides another cherished opportunity for remembrance. 
3. Spend quality time togetherOn a day that is likely to be lonely for the bereaved mom, instead of a card in the mail, give the gift of time. Your attention and friendship will create a lasting impact. Have lunch in a restaurant, go for a hike or create a new memory together. The mother may wish to visit her child’s gravesite, light a candle or scrapbook the baby’s footprints or funeral program. Doing these activities with the bereaved mother will be quality time she will greatly treasure. In the case that the mother wishes to be alone, suggest another time to do something meaningful together.
4. Give thoughtful giftsWhile a dozen roses and a box of chocolates may be nice, show you care through a meaningful and relevant gift. There are many companies that make bereavement jewelry, statues and ornaments. Other ideas include books, picture frames, candles or personalized keepsakes. Or you could make a donation to a hospital, bereavement program or charity in the child’s or mother’s name. Even a thoughtful letter may be the perfect way to show you care.
5. Ask how she is doing and listen
Ask the mother how she is coping and welcome her vulnerability. The best approach is to let her do the talking. Know that you do not need to solve the event or fix the emotions; these things need to be experienced and expressed and this is often helpful in itself. Create a safe environment for the bereaved mother to share. You can do this by open body language, eye contact and active listening. If the mother is struggling, encourage her to take good care of herself and find support.
A woman never stops being her child’s mom, whether her baby is with her or not. Bereaved mothers have survived excruciating pain and yet carry on. This bravery deserves recognition—especially on Mother’s Day.

Thursday 30 April 2015

When is a negative not a negative?

Nothing is ever going to be straightforward for us in this process, that much is clear.

After my super faint BFP on Monday, which turned out the be the day AF was due (I should check my dates more carefully!) I had light spotting that night, twice. I was so terrified of losing another baby that I spent all day Tuesday in bed, and then Tuesday night more spotting.

We visited the doctor on Wednesday and went through "the Plan' I was concerned that she wasn't able to prescribe the progesterone to me as the specialist recommended and that the Early Pregnancy clinic, who could prescribe, didn't want to see me until a scan at 6wks. She sent me off for hcg and progesterone testing, and a couple of extra forms for follow-up tests if the spotting continued.

No more spotting all of Wednesday, but then this morning, about 6am, I woke to a huge amount of bleeding, lucky that I had (for some unknown reason) worn a pad to bed. Came back to bed to tell hubby the news and it's so heartbreaking to hear the devastation in his voice. "How many more times can we go through this?" he whispered. More bleeding over the next couple of hours and then... NOTHING.

I was expecting a call from the doctor with the results of my tests from yesterday, and hoping for good news. If the numbers were high, then maybe the bleeding was ok. She told me the hcg result was 2. 2!! Technically not pregnant. I asked her about the heavy, but limited bleeding. She admitted that it wasn't normal, but more than likely a miscarriage due to the blood work. She has advised that I go back for the next blood test anyway, just to confirm. Especially if there is no more bleeding.

So now I just wait. Wait for more bleeding, wait for a blood test, wait for the results.

I still 'feel' pregnant, but with an hcg result that low, I guess it's more psychological than physical. I spoke to my mum about this and just confused the situation even more. Apparently with my youngest sister she didn't get a positive test until she was almost 12 weeks! She had told them she was pregnant but due to bleeding at 4 and 8 weeks they didn't believe her. So this gives me hope. False hope maybe, but right now I'll take what I can get.



Monday 27 April 2015

Scared, and that's all there is to it

I have been meaning to post for the last week or so, but life gets in the way.

First, I was going to post about our experience at the early miscarriage clinic and what the specialist plans to do for us.

Then I was going to post about being the crazy TTC lady who finds herself squeezing her boobs to see if they are really sore or not as she the end of the TWW.

Now, instead, I am posting about our latest BFP. This one is so new that even hubby doesn't know, as he's due home from work within the hour. All I have done is stare at the test, cry, make a doctors appointment for Wednesday, and go back to staring and crying.

Anyone who has been following our story probably knows that the reason I am scared is due to the prospect of another miscarriage. Although the specialist told us exactly what their plan for us is if I was to fall pregnant again, I haven't done any of the tests he recommended (I am booked in for a 3D uterus ultrasound next week) and so I feel that whatever has caused the last losses is still there, therefore I will probably lose this pregnancy too.

I should be happy, and I envy every woman who has ever gazed at those two pink lines and felt nothing but joy. Instead, I am scared. I'm even dreading telling hubby because I don't want him to feel the way I am feeling now.

I have a day to wait before I can get in to see the doctor. I have a day of stressing and waiting for the cramps that signal the arrival of AF. After that, who knows what will happen?

Friday 17 April 2015

What not to say to someone struggling with infertility

I have written a bit about this in the past, especially the niceties offered after our miscarriage (the one that people know about) but saw this link posted on the Essential Baby TTC#1 thread and thought it worth sharing.

http://offbeatfamilies.com/2012/04/talking-about-infertility

That's all. I know many of the people reading this blog already know all these things, but it might be something you need to share with others. Pass it on.


Saturday 28 March 2015

The results are in...

All our tests are back and the results are all clear. Which is great, but has left me feeling a little more lost. There's nothing in any result so far to suggest a reason for our recurrent early losses.

I'm also struggling with the fact that yesterday should have been my last day of work before beginning maternity leave following the school holidays. All our losses have had an impact, but the little one that I carried the longest has left the biggest mark. I look at all the growing tummies and beautiful babies that are posted on my instagram feed every day. I am so happy for these lovely ladies and their families, but there are times when it just hurts so much.

I cried all the way home in the car. The day had been ok, I thought I would manage, but as the final bell rang and everyone started calling, "See you in two weeks!" it all hit home. Yep, I'd be back in two weeks, not finally getting started on the nursery, the hospital bag or all those countless other things that women on maternity leave apparently get up to.

I'm also getting a little tired of people telling me not to worry and that it'll be our turn soon. Maybe it will, but should that make the pain of loss any less? And what if it isn't? What if further tests show that we are one of those statistically infertile couples? Then what platitudes will these people offer?

So what's next? Our lovely new doctor has referred our case to the local hospital clinic. Unfortunately, having no private health insurance, we just wait to hear back from them regarding an appointment. She feels that they may bump us up the queue as we were there for the miscarriage. Alternatively, if we do fall pregnant again before then, they'll see us immediately.

We know that's not going to be any time soon, due to the recent arrival of AF. Right on time as usual. It sounds so bizarre to say, but I knew I wasn't pregnant this time. I'm starting to get a bit of an idea of what my body feels like in the days after around 7DPO when I am pregnant, and I felt none of that this time. As usual I held out a little hope, everyone says that every pregnancy is different, so there's always a chance... but it wasn't to be. So roll on April.

We didn't even talk this year about not trying during April to avoid a Christmas baby. Looking back on all those conversations, even though we kept trying in the end anyway, just seems so frivolous. If the choice came down to no baby, or a baby born around Christmas, I know what I would choose. A child in our home, in our arms, would be the greatest gift of all.

Sunday 15 March 2015

What to do when you don't know what to do

I haven't updated for a while but it's Sunday and I'm home alone so now seems as good a time as any!

Things have been pretty rough. Passing the 12 month mark has really kicked us around and add to the mix another early loss. The week before, I had visited my GP for the first time since she confirmed my pregnancy in September last year. I saw her look at the notes regarding my miscarriage on the screen and she said nothing. Strike one. I was seeing her regarding a hard to shift chest cold/cough that I have had since the beginning of the year and all she recommended was wait and see if it goes away. Strike two. I also mentioned that I was finding it difficult to lose the weight that I had put on following my miscarriage and that returning to work had made things trickier, her advice was to quit my job. Strike three.

Really, we have been talking about changing doctors for a while. The only thing tying me to this doctor was the fact that it is super close to work meaning I can go before or after school, and that she knows my history of the last 10 years or so meaning I don't have to go over it all again. But neither of us were really impressed with her seeming lack of empathy or advice for our situation. Even when I mentioned that it was 6 months since the miscarriage and that maybe it was time for further investigation, she told me not to worry for another 6 months.

So when I lost another pregnancy the following week we decided it was time to take the plunge and see a new doctor. Couldn't be happier with the result! The new doctor took one glance at our history and sent us off for a whole lot of tests right away. She thinks that the fact I fall pregnant seemingly easily is quite encouraging and that many of the causes of recurrent early loss are relatively easy to treat. That was new to us. She was also encouraged that my cycle is pretty much like clockwork and that this was another positive sign. She also suggested karyotype tests for both of us to rule out chromosomal problems, something that we had never been told of before. All in all, I had 8 phials of blood drawn! It was supposed to be 12, but the nurse rang her lab to check that she could double up on a few of them. We are still waiting for the results as the karyotype takes a couple of weeks, but we both have a bit more optimism knowing that SOMETHING is being done!

We have also just passed our fertile window for this month and the change in hubby since coming off anti-depressants has continued. We managed the 2 days before ovulation, O day, and 2 days after, same as the last successful cycle. We shall see.