Dont they realise how precious you are? What a gift they have been given? Dont they realise they should cherish every minute, no every second they have with you because you just dont know what the next second will bring?
I feel like I want to shake people - I want to scream and shout at them - "Love what you have - take a minute and just look at your childs face, that child is the most precious thing on this earth, dont waste a second of it, love them, cherish them, make them your whole life, they deserve that more than anything - please dont waste a second of it - it can all get taken away in a breath"
Why dont they realise? I wouldn't wish babyloss on anyone, not even my worst enemy but sometimes I just wish others could feel my pain, know what I have been through if only just for a minute so they will realise too just what a precious gift they hold in their hands.
Friday 26 August 2011
Saturday 20 August 2011
Great expectations
Why is it always last thing at night when I am trying to go to sleep that my mind starts racing - a thousand thoughts per minute running through it. I always think to myself - I should turn the laptop on and write some of this down, get it out, but I never do. Instead the thought - I really should go to sleep - wins out and eventually the tears stop and I fall asleep probably through exhaustion. I should probably keep a notepad on the bedside table so that I can take notes, as normally by morning I have forgotten the detail of what was going through my mind and therefore have nothing to write! I should add that although I forget the detail I dont ever forget the main theme - and that is always Emily. She is in my every waking thought.
Someone said to me on the day of Emilys funeral "You may not know why this has happened to you now, but in years to come maybe you will begin to understand that there is a reason for everything." And I remember thinking 'You insensitive bitch' How would I ever come to accept that my daughter dying, that my daughter not having a chance to live, to be loved, happened for a reason? What possible reason is there on this earth for that to happen!? I dont know how I managed to not explode on that person that day - I think it probably helped that I was on auto-pilot otherwise I might have said or did something I would regret. Either way I was thinking about it again today and got just as angry and upset as the first time they said it. I dont think I will ever understand it. It makes no sense. Why do other people get to keep their children? Take home their babies? What did we do that makes us unworthy? Undeserving? Why are we being punished?
It made me think of this quote
"That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day."
And I suppose its true. This whole experience has changed me, I've said it before. I could never have predicted this would happen, but it has and my life will carry on. It will never be the same as before, everything has changed and that will affect my future forever. And I do think of how different it could have been - I spend most of my day thinking this! What if we hadn't conceived on the day we did? Would I still be pregnant? Would we still be eagerly awaiting the arrival of our little one? Maybe, but then that wouldn't have been Emily - it would have been someone else, someone different. And as much as I wish she were still here and still going to be a part of our family I do not for a moment ever wish she never was. So here we are, the present, changed people in a changed world forging on with our future but wishing so hard for the past - the time when everything was 'ok'.
Wednesday 17 August 2011
In a daze... 24 days.
24 days. 24 days since my world fell apart. How can that be? How can 24 days have passed by already?
24 days...
I still struggle to believe this has happened. How can this have happened? I still find myself absently putting my hand to my stomach as I would do when my girl was still in there and then it hits me again - shes not - shes gone. Gone, 24 days ago.
Each day is a daze still. I go through the motions, what other choice is there? If I could I would just stop. But I cant life carries on regardless and sweeps me along with it.
24 days...
24 days...
I still struggle to believe this has happened. How can this have happened? I still find myself absently putting my hand to my stomach as I would do when my girl was still in there and then it hits me again - shes not - shes gone. Gone, 24 days ago.
Each day is a daze still. I go through the motions, what other choice is there? If I could I would just stop. But I cant life carries on regardless and sweeps me along with it.
24 days...
Friday 12 August 2011
A touch from a stranger...
Yesterday I found this poem:
And thought about how true it is. I feel I have more in common with strangers - other mums who have suffered the same loss as me - than with some of the people I have known for years. Only they know my pain and grief - there are really no words to describe it. How do you grieve for a person you never got to know, for a relationship that ended before it really began. Its not a sadness for the person who lived and died but for the hopes, plans and dreams that you had for your baby and your family. I grieve for the loss of the future I dreamed we had, of never having the chance to be a mummy to my beautiful daughter. I'm sad not only for what I have lost but also for what will never be.
Yesterday I went to visit Emily's grave. Its so peaceful there and yet so very very sad. She is in the Baby Garden section of the cemetery so all the surronding graves are of babies who never got to make it into their mothers arms, or babies who died shortly after birth. I was there tending to her flowers, silent tears flowing when another family came to visit one of the graves nearby. They were only there for a few minutes just tending their baby boys grave but as they were leaving the mother noticed I was crying and asked if I would be okay. I stood up and told her that I would be fine and she wrapped her arms around me and just hugged me. It was the most heartfelt hug ever. In that moment without words we both knew we shared the same pain. We spoke for a while about our babies and our losses and she made me realise something important - I'm not just a person who has lost her baby - I am a mother who has lost her daughter. My daughter might not be here, she might never have looked at me and said 'mummy' but I am no less a mother than any other.
Its true, other people will probably never speak of me being a mother. Losing a child is an unthinkable horror that no-one wants to think much less talk about it, so for others it will be easier for them to pretend it never happened - to brush it under the carpet. I will forever be that 'thing in the room' that everyone knows is there but wont ever speak of. And because no-one ever got to meet Emily it will be easier for them to be that way - they didn't see her so she wasnt there. But she was, I went through my pregnancy - we seen her on the scans waving her arms and legs, sucking her thumb. I felt her move inside me. I seen my body change through pregnancy. And I gave birth. We seen her perfectly formed but tiny little body and wished her goodbye.
I am Emilys mum and I always will be.
I will never forget my daughter. She may not be with my physically but she will never leave my heart. She is a part of me, the whole of me. And whilst the loss of her is the worst sorrow of my life it is only true because her being was the greatest joy.
Angel mums together
We have shared our tears and our sorrow,
We have given encouragement to each other,
Given hope for a brighter tomorrow,
We share the title of grieving mother.
Some of us lost older daughters or sons,
Who we watched grow over the years,
Some have lost their babies before their lives begun,
But no matter the age , we cry the same tears.
We understand each others pain,
The bond we share is very strong,
With each other there is no need to explain,
The path we walk is hard and long.
Our children brought us together,
They didn't want us on this journey alone,
They knew we needed each other,
To survive the pain of them being gone.
So take my hand my friend,
We may stumble and fall along the way,
But we'll get up and try again,
Because together we can make it day by day.
We can give each other hope,
We'll create a place where we belong,
Together we will find ways to cope,
Because we are Angel Mums
and together we are strong!
We have shared our tears and our sorrow,
We have given encouragement to each other,
Given hope for a brighter tomorrow,
We share the title of grieving mother.
Some of us lost older daughters or sons,
Who we watched grow over the years,
Some have lost their babies before their lives begun,
But no matter the age , we cry the same tears.
We understand each others pain,
The bond we share is very strong,
With each other there is no need to explain,
The path we walk is hard and long.
Our children brought us together,
They didn't want us on this journey alone,
They knew we needed each other,
To survive the pain of them being gone.
So take my hand my friend,
We may stumble and fall along the way,
But we'll get up and try again,
Because together we can make it day by day.
We can give each other hope,
We'll create a place where we belong,
Together we will find ways to cope,
Because we are Angel Mums
and together we are strong!
And thought about how true it is. I feel I have more in common with strangers - other mums who have suffered the same loss as me - than with some of the people I have known for years. Only they know my pain and grief - there are really no words to describe it. How do you grieve for a person you never got to know, for a relationship that ended before it really began. Its not a sadness for the person who lived and died but for the hopes, plans and dreams that you had for your baby and your family. I grieve for the loss of the future I dreamed we had, of never having the chance to be a mummy to my beautiful daughter. I'm sad not only for what I have lost but also for what will never be.
A wife who loses a husband is called a widow.
A husband who loses a wife is called a widower.
A child who loses his parents is called an orphan.
But...there is no word for a parent who loses a child, that's how awful the loss is!
Yesterday I went to visit Emily's grave. Its so peaceful there and yet so very very sad. She is in the Baby Garden section of the cemetery so all the surronding graves are of babies who never got to make it into their mothers arms, or babies who died shortly after birth. I was there tending to her flowers, silent tears flowing when another family came to visit one of the graves nearby. They were only there for a few minutes just tending their baby boys grave but as they were leaving the mother noticed I was crying and asked if I would be okay. I stood up and told her that I would be fine and she wrapped her arms around me and just hugged me. It was the most heartfelt hug ever. In that moment without words we both knew we shared the same pain. We spoke for a while about our babies and our losses and she made me realise something important - I'm not just a person who has lost her baby - I am a mother who has lost her daughter. My daughter might not be here, she might never have looked at me and said 'mummy' but I am no less a mother than any other.
Its true, other people will probably never speak of me being a mother. Losing a child is an unthinkable horror that no-one wants to think much less talk about it, so for others it will be easier for them to pretend it never happened - to brush it under the carpet. I will forever be that 'thing in the room' that everyone knows is there but wont ever speak of. And because no-one ever got to meet Emily it will be easier for them to be that way - they didn't see her so she wasnt there. But she was, I went through my pregnancy - we seen her on the scans waving her arms and legs, sucking her thumb. I felt her move inside me. I seen my body change through pregnancy. And I gave birth. We seen her perfectly formed but tiny little body and wished her goodbye.
I am Emilys mum and I always will be.
I will never forget my daughter. She may not be with my physically but she will never leave my heart. She is a part of me, the whole of me. And whilst the loss of her is the worst sorrow of my life it is only true because her being was the greatest joy.
Thursday 11 August 2011
A new kind of okay
People keep asking me the question 'How are you?' and I have no idea how to answer it. I find myself saying 'I am OK' but I am anything but ok. I want to scream and shout and cry every minute of every day. There isn't a second that passes where I dont think about Emily, where I dont wish things were different. Oh how I wish they were different.
I guess I should start saying 'I am coping' because thats probably a better description of my day. I had a doctors appointment today because my sick line was due and she, like everyone else, asked me how I was and if I was eating and sleeping... I said I was 'ok' (theres that word again) and that yes I was eating and sleeping. What I didn't say was that I am not 'ok' but I am getting good at faking it and although I eat I dont taste anything and I sleep because its the only time I dont hurt - from the minute I wake I spend my day counting down the hours until it seems acceptable to go to sleep again. I stare at the TV but dont watch anything. I basically go about my normal day doing normal things but feeling anything but normal inside.
Its hard to describe to anyone who hasnt been through it. How do you go about being OK when all your hopes and dreams have been shattered? When the world you thought you knew has changed so completely? When tomorrow feels like forever away, another whole day apart from Emily... just another day to cope through.
I guess this is my new kind of okay.
I guess I should start saying 'I am coping' because thats probably a better description of my day. I had a doctors appointment today because my sick line was due and she, like everyone else, asked me how I was and if I was eating and sleeping... I said I was 'ok' (theres that word again) and that yes I was eating and sleeping. What I didn't say was that I am not 'ok' but I am getting good at faking it and although I eat I dont taste anything and I sleep because its the only time I dont hurt - from the minute I wake I spend my day counting down the hours until it seems acceptable to go to sleep again. I stare at the TV but dont watch anything. I basically go about my normal day doing normal things but feeling anything but normal inside.
Its hard to describe to anyone who hasnt been through it. How do you go about being OK when all your hopes and dreams have been shattered? When the world you thought you knew has changed so completely? When tomorrow feels like forever away, another whole day apart from Emily... just another day to cope through.
I guess this is my new kind of okay.
Life is a rollercoaster...
To start at the beginning...
What a rollercoaster the last 5 months has been. My partner and I had always spoke about having children but the time never seemed right. Then one night a random conversation started about babies and suddenly we were talking about trying to conceive. We had always wanted to wait until the time was 'right' but that conversation made us realise that there probably would never be a 'right' time. We have been together over 7 years (now nearly 8), had just bought our first home together, both had good paying jobs that allowed us to lead a nice life - OK they arent in the professions we ultimately seen ourselves in but they paid the bills etc. So we decided to begin to try. I started taking prenatal vitamins straight away, went to the doctor for a check-up and visited the family planning clinic to have my contraceptive coil removed. We were ready to go!
It seemed like my body wanted a baby as much as my heart now did because within 2 weeks of having the coil removed we had conceived! I didn't even have time to have a period in-between. I thought it would take a few months as I had been on the coil for 7 years and thought it would take a while for my body to regulate - obviously not. We got our first positive pregnancy test really quickly too - at only 6dpo. We were over the moon! So excited that I couldn't stop testing - the thrill of that little line getting darker day by day was amazing. I finally stopped testing 2 weeks later when the line was appearing before the control line!
We were so excited and told immediate family almost straightaway. Our parents were just as excited as we were. For both sides it was going to be their first grandchild! I could barely stop my mum jumping up and down in excitement!
I'll be the first to admit, my pregnancy was not an easy one. I didn't 'bloom' in pregnancy instead from about week 7 I was diagnosed with Hyperemisis - I couldnt keep anything down not even water. But even that wasn't enough to stop our happiness, I may have been miserable and being sick constantly but we were still looking forward to our little one's arrival in a few months time and began to plan our new lives.
We were so excited that we couldn't wait until our 12 week scan to catch our first glimpse of our little one so we paid for a private scan at 8w+4 - and we both sat in awe as we seen that little bean appear on the screen with a strong beating heart. A few short weeks later we were seeing her again at our 12 week scan! She was jumping around, waving her legs and arms and looked so perfect (to us) but not so perfect to the sonographer who uttered those words I will never forget at the end of the scan 'I have some concerns about your babies development'. Our whole world came crashing down around us with those few words. She explained that our baby had something called a Cystic Hygroma at the back of her neck and her measurement for the NT fluid was well over the normal limit at 11mm (the normal being below 3). She went to get the consultant who confirmed the same. From then on I felt like my world stopped and some evil nightmare had taken over. This was something you read about happening to others - not something that could actually happen to us, right? Surely someone had made a mistake? Or this really was a nightmare and I was about to wake up and be happy again?
But there was no mistake, this was really happening - and it was happening to us. The consultant confirmed that the NT fluid was very abnormal. She told us that 70% of babies would test positive for a Chromosomal Disorder the main 2 being Downs and Turner syndrome. We agreed to a CVS test, not because it would change our minds on what to do with out little one but because I just had to know what was going on and if anything could be done to help her.
In the end I had to have 3 CVS tests because the first 2 did not get enough tissue sample for the lab to grow. The third test came back positive for Turner Syndrome.
For those that dont know Turner Syndrome only affects females, instead of their chromosomes containing 'XX' like a typical female they are single X or 'X0' - X-nothing, they have only one sex chromosome. This causes various problems including infertility and short stature but didnt seem the end of the world until we read that for some reaon the medical profession has not yet answered almost 95% of babies diagnosed with Turner Syndrome will miscarry.
Those statistics terrified us. We were offered a termination at that point but declined it - we had to give our baby girl a chance she so deserved. So we fought on, determined that our little girl could prove the doctors wrong and make it be with us.
The next few weeks felt like hell on earth. We went from being happy and excited parents to be to two people who were terrified beyond words. We were classed as a 'high risk' pregnancy and put under consultant care for the remainder. The consultants wanted to keep a close eye on our little girl so arranged for regular scans. The news we did not want to hear came at our 16 week scan. I could see this time for myself as soon as the scan started that it was not good news. The consultant confirmed that our little girls Cystic Hygroma had gotten much worse - it had went from 11mm to over 40mm in just a short few weeks, it was now all over her head and looked like she was wearing a helmet. She also had a build up of fluid in between her skin, I think this is called Edema and also fluid on her lungs - the doctors said this build up of fluid was known as Hydrops and babies with Hydrops have a 0% chance of survival.
How could this be happening to our baby girl? Our precious, much wanted baby girl who was going to be loved more than anything? Who had a whole family eagerly awaiting her arrival.
The consultants were lovely and still gave us options, they told us we could stop the pregnancy now or we could continue and let our little one pass away on her own time but made it clear that these were sadly now the only options and that she would not make it to birth. We were never going to hold our baby girl in our arms.
We went home to think about it overnight and I did some internet research determined to find a story similar to ours with a positive outcome. Instead all I found was the horrible outcomes - the 0% was upehld time and time again.
We came to the difficult decision to stop the pregnancy. I couldnt go on thinking about my precious little girl getting worse inside me. The doctors told us she was in heart failure and she was smaller than she should be because of the pressure of the fluid on her little body already. They couldnt answer me when I asked them if she was suffering but I didnt want her to go that way. As a mother I couldn't live knowing that my child could be suffering and I wasn't doing anything to help her.
So we went into the hospital the next day and were given the first tablet. We went home and returned to hospital 48 hours later on the 24th July 2011 where they began to induce me at 9:30am. Nothing much happened for most of the morning and early afternoon apart from beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was much calmer than I thought I would be. I think deep down I knew we were doing what we had to for our little girl. It wasnt fair to keep her going when she was suffering so much. I wished so hard that I could do something to make it different, I would have done anything to change things so that she could make it.
My waters broke later in the afternoon and the pain started soon afterwards. I was given diamorphine and it made me so woozy and so sleepy I felt out of it for the next few hours. I had the first lot at 5pm and by 8pm the pain was back so they gave me more. At 11pm they done an internal and told me they wanted me to try and push. They came back at 11:30 and I delivered my beautiful baby girl shortly afterwards into a bedpan on the bed because it was the only way I could push down properly.
They took her away and came back to try and delivery my placenta - but it was so far away and too well attached still to come away on its own. They started talking about taking me to theatre but in the end the doctor managed to remove it with forceps.
We got to see our gorgeous girl shortly afterwards. She looked so perfect - all fully formed and peaceful looking just so very very tiny. We named her Emily. I couldnt bare to look at her for long it literally broke my heart into tiny pieces so they took her away just after midnight.
The midwives were so lovely. The one who was there when I delivered even cried when Emily arrived. I dont know how they do their jobs. I just hope the good times outweigh the bad for them. They are truly angels. And made what was the worst day of my life so much more bareable.
I still dont quite believe she is gone and that this has all happened. I feel like I am in a daze most of the time. Our sweet baby girl that we wanted so very very much and were so looking forward to holding in our arms is gone and we will never get her back. Instead we are having to face life without her.
We were offered cremation or burial and opted for a burial because she was so small we wouldnt get any of her ashes back to scatter with a cremation so it felt more like a 'disposal' than a goodbye. At first I thought I wanted her in the shared baby garden at the cemetry but then when once I had made the arrangements with the funeral directors I paniced and we have now bought her a private lair where she can have her own headstone and little space for a garden. It is still in a part of the cemtetry that is only for babies and although I know in my head that she is not there and it makes no difference I still find it nice to think of her playing with the other angel babies and having friends.
Emily was buried on the 1st August 2011 in the Baby Garden at Linn Cemetery, Glasgow. Seeing that little white coffin was horrific and that image will forever be in my head. Our baby girl in a coffin before her life had even begun. How wrong!! I dont remember much of the day - I was so scared of not being strong enough to make it through that I think my natural defences took over and I spent the day in daze. I suppose thats natural, the bodies way of coping. I cant remember anyone around me or what they were doing - the only thing I was concentrating on was that tiny white coffin with my daughters name on it.
Walking away from her grave was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I was so torn. I didn't want to leave her there, alone in the ground but at the same time I couldnt stand to be there staring at her.
My mum read a poem at the funeral called Little Snowdrop -
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.
It says everything really.
I then read No Hello, No Goodbye
What a rollercoaster the last 5 months has been. My partner and I had always spoke about having children but the time never seemed right. Then one night a random conversation started about babies and suddenly we were talking about trying to conceive. We had always wanted to wait until the time was 'right' but that conversation made us realise that there probably would never be a 'right' time. We have been together over 7 years (now nearly 8), had just bought our first home together, both had good paying jobs that allowed us to lead a nice life - OK they arent in the professions we ultimately seen ourselves in but they paid the bills etc. So we decided to begin to try. I started taking prenatal vitamins straight away, went to the doctor for a check-up and visited the family planning clinic to have my contraceptive coil removed. We were ready to go!
It seemed like my body wanted a baby as much as my heart now did because within 2 weeks of having the coil removed we had conceived! I didn't even have time to have a period in-between. I thought it would take a few months as I had been on the coil for 7 years and thought it would take a while for my body to regulate - obviously not. We got our first positive pregnancy test really quickly too - at only 6dpo. We were over the moon! So excited that I couldn't stop testing - the thrill of that little line getting darker day by day was amazing. I finally stopped testing 2 weeks later when the line was appearing before the control line!
We were so excited and told immediate family almost straightaway. Our parents were just as excited as we were. For both sides it was going to be their first grandchild! I could barely stop my mum jumping up and down in excitement!
I'll be the first to admit, my pregnancy was not an easy one. I didn't 'bloom' in pregnancy instead from about week 7 I was diagnosed with Hyperemisis - I couldnt keep anything down not even water. But even that wasn't enough to stop our happiness, I may have been miserable and being sick constantly but we were still looking forward to our little one's arrival in a few months time and began to plan our new lives.
We were so excited that we couldn't wait until our 12 week scan to catch our first glimpse of our little one so we paid for a private scan at 8w+4 - and we both sat in awe as we seen that little bean appear on the screen with a strong beating heart. A few short weeks later we were seeing her again at our 12 week scan! She was jumping around, waving her legs and arms and looked so perfect (to us) but not so perfect to the sonographer who uttered those words I will never forget at the end of the scan 'I have some concerns about your babies development'. Our whole world came crashing down around us with those few words. She explained that our baby had something called a Cystic Hygroma at the back of her neck and her measurement for the NT fluid was well over the normal limit at 11mm (the normal being below 3). She went to get the consultant who confirmed the same. From then on I felt like my world stopped and some evil nightmare had taken over. This was something you read about happening to others - not something that could actually happen to us, right? Surely someone had made a mistake? Or this really was a nightmare and I was about to wake up and be happy again?
But there was no mistake, this was really happening - and it was happening to us. The consultant confirmed that the NT fluid was very abnormal. She told us that 70% of babies would test positive for a Chromosomal Disorder the main 2 being Downs and Turner syndrome. We agreed to a CVS test, not because it would change our minds on what to do with out little one but because I just had to know what was going on and if anything could be done to help her.
In the end I had to have 3 CVS tests because the first 2 did not get enough tissue sample for the lab to grow. The third test came back positive for Turner Syndrome.
For those that dont know Turner Syndrome only affects females, instead of their chromosomes containing 'XX' like a typical female they are single X or 'X0' - X-nothing, they have only one sex chromosome. This causes various problems including infertility and short stature but didnt seem the end of the world until we read that for some reaon the medical profession has not yet answered almost 95% of babies diagnosed with Turner Syndrome will miscarry.
Those statistics terrified us. We were offered a termination at that point but declined it - we had to give our baby girl a chance she so deserved. So we fought on, determined that our little girl could prove the doctors wrong and make it be with us.
The next few weeks felt like hell on earth. We went from being happy and excited parents to be to two people who were terrified beyond words. We were classed as a 'high risk' pregnancy and put under consultant care for the remainder. The consultants wanted to keep a close eye on our little girl so arranged for regular scans. The news we did not want to hear came at our 16 week scan. I could see this time for myself as soon as the scan started that it was not good news. The consultant confirmed that our little girls Cystic Hygroma had gotten much worse - it had went from 11mm to over 40mm in just a short few weeks, it was now all over her head and looked like she was wearing a helmet. She also had a build up of fluid in between her skin, I think this is called Edema and also fluid on her lungs - the doctors said this build up of fluid was known as Hydrops and babies with Hydrops have a 0% chance of survival.
How could this be happening to our baby girl? Our precious, much wanted baby girl who was going to be loved more than anything? Who had a whole family eagerly awaiting her arrival.
The consultants were lovely and still gave us options, they told us we could stop the pregnancy now or we could continue and let our little one pass away on her own time but made it clear that these were sadly now the only options and that she would not make it to birth. We were never going to hold our baby girl in our arms.
We went home to think about it overnight and I did some internet research determined to find a story similar to ours with a positive outcome. Instead all I found was the horrible outcomes - the 0% was upehld time and time again.
We came to the difficult decision to stop the pregnancy. I couldnt go on thinking about my precious little girl getting worse inside me. The doctors told us she was in heart failure and she was smaller than she should be because of the pressure of the fluid on her little body already. They couldnt answer me when I asked them if she was suffering but I didnt want her to go that way. As a mother I couldn't live knowing that my child could be suffering and I wasn't doing anything to help her.
So we went into the hospital the next day and were given the first tablet. We went home and returned to hospital 48 hours later on the 24th July 2011 where they began to induce me at 9:30am. Nothing much happened for most of the morning and early afternoon apart from beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was much calmer than I thought I would be. I think deep down I knew we were doing what we had to for our little girl. It wasnt fair to keep her going when she was suffering so much. I wished so hard that I could do something to make it different, I would have done anything to change things so that she could make it.
My waters broke later in the afternoon and the pain started soon afterwards. I was given diamorphine and it made me so woozy and so sleepy I felt out of it for the next few hours. I had the first lot at 5pm and by 8pm the pain was back so they gave me more. At 11pm they done an internal and told me they wanted me to try and push. They came back at 11:30 and I delivered my beautiful baby girl shortly afterwards into a bedpan on the bed because it was the only way I could push down properly.
They took her away and came back to try and delivery my placenta - but it was so far away and too well attached still to come away on its own. They started talking about taking me to theatre but in the end the doctor managed to remove it with forceps.
We got to see our gorgeous girl shortly afterwards. She looked so perfect - all fully formed and peaceful looking just so very very tiny. We named her Emily. I couldnt bare to look at her for long it literally broke my heart into tiny pieces so they took her away just after midnight.
The midwives were so lovely. The one who was there when I delivered even cried when Emily arrived. I dont know how they do their jobs. I just hope the good times outweigh the bad for them. They are truly angels. And made what was the worst day of my life so much more bareable.
I still dont quite believe she is gone and that this has all happened. I feel like I am in a daze most of the time. Our sweet baby girl that we wanted so very very much and were so looking forward to holding in our arms is gone and we will never get her back. Instead we are having to face life without her.
We were offered cremation or burial and opted for a burial because she was so small we wouldnt get any of her ashes back to scatter with a cremation so it felt more like a 'disposal' than a goodbye. At first I thought I wanted her in the shared baby garden at the cemetry but then when once I had made the arrangements with the funeral directors I paniced and we have now bought her a private lair where she can have her own headstone and little space for a garden. It is still in a part of the cemtetry that is only for babies and although I know in my head that she is not there and it makes no difference I still find it nice to think of her playing with the other angel babies and having friends.
Emily was buried on the 1st August 2011 in the Baby Garden at Linn Cemetery, Glasgow. Seeing that little white coffin was horrific and that image will forever be in my head. Our baby girl in a coffin before her life had even begun. How wrong!! I dont remember much of the day - I was so scared of not being strong enough to make it through that I think my natural defences took over and I spent the day in daze. I suppose thats natural, the bodies way of coping. I cant remember anyone around me or what they were doing - the only thing I was concentrating on was that tiny white coffin with my daughters name on it.
Walking away from her grave was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I was so torn. I didn't want to leave her there, alone in the ground but at the same time I couldnt stand to be there staring at her.
My mum read a poem at the funeral called Little Snowdrop -
The world may never notice
If a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.
If a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.
The little one we longed for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.
And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do.
For every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.
Our hearts know what to do.
For every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.
It says everything really.
I then read No Hello, No Goodbye
I never got to hear you laugh
you never saw me cry
Didn’t get a chance to say "Hello"
you never said "Goodbye"
I didn't think that I could feel
so sad, lost and forlorn
I never knew God chose his Angels
before some of them were born
Your life was short yet special
I shared it all exclusively
I felt you breathe, I felt you kick
you were alive inside of me
And although we are not together
we're not really apart
For you'll always occupy a space
deep within my heart
Time they say will ease my pain,
but every day now I cry
When I wish I could have said "Hello"
and heard you say "Goodbye"
you never saw me cry
Didn’t get a chance to say "Hello"
you never said "Goodbye"
I didn't think that I could feel
so sad, lost and forlorn
I never knew God chose his Angels
before some of them were born
Your life was short yet special
I shared it all exclusively
I felt you breathe, I felt you kick
you were alive inside of me
And although we are not together
we're not really apart
For you'll always occupy a space
deep within my heart
Time they say will ease my pain,
but every day now I cry
When I wish I could have said "Hello"
and heard you say "Goodbye"
Now the funeral is over with I feel lost. For 5 months I have been on a rollercoaster and I feel like now it is stopped - suspended upside down. The world is continuing on around me but I am just stuck here. For 5 months I have had something - getting pregnant, that initial excitement, the scan, the worry, the fighter for her to make it, the hoping, the fear, the worry, then devestation, trying to face reality, delivering Emily, saying goodbye, arranging the funeral, guilt, desperation... and now... well now there is just nothing. Nothing but hurt and loneliness. A world of sadness, a world that is too frightening to imagine.
Sometimes I feel so guilty and think I done the wrong thing - should I have just let her carry on and waited to see when she was ready to go? Did I make the decision because it was really best for her or was it because it was easier for me? Could I have done something different?
But its too late to question things now. My daughter is gone. I will never get to see her smile or hear her laugh and cry, never get to hold her or hug her. Instead I can only have her in my dreams. I visit a graveside with flowers and ornaments instead of singing my baby to sleep in my arms.
I long for her. I wish for her. I ache for her
Shattered dreams...
I suppose I'm really doing this the wrong way around. I did think about starting a journal at the start of this journey but time just seemed to slip away and before I knew it we are here. I'm not entirely sure I know where 'here' even is - its a place I never imagined I would be thats for sure. Its a place that is sad and frightening all at once, a place where even when people surrond you you feel alone and vulnerable, a place I wish no one had to be, ever. But its a place where I belong now and a journey I must travel no matter how much I wish things could have been different. I am a completely different person to the one I was at the start of this journey but more than that its not just me thats changed - its the whole entire world I live in. Nothing is the same anymore. Nothing will ever be the same again. I have woken up with new eyes and this new world is a scary place to be.
So I start this journal a changed person, a new me. My dreams shattered into a million pieces on a day that will forever be etched in my memory - the 24th of July 2011, the day my world stopped - the day my daughter died.
So I start this journal a changed person, a new me. My dreams shattered into a million pieces on a day that will forever be etched in my memory - the 24th of July 2011, the day my world stopped - the day my daughter died.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)