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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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