stillbirth – Mothering A Rainbow

Breaking the Silence at Christmas

Posted on December 20, 2021 by Amy

I am 1 in 4.

I found out I was pregnant with my first child in August 2014, it was a complete surprise but one my husband and I were so very excited about. We hadn’t been trying, it just happened and honestly I had a very easy pregnancy; no morning sickness, no cravings and no worries. I was in a blissful naivety that after 40 weeks we’d be welcoming our first child in to the world and our family would start. We’d flown past the worrying 12 weeks and everything was going so well. I wasn’t aware that babies died; of cause I’d heard of families going through miscarriages and even of family and older friends whose babies had either been stillborn or died from SIDS but that was years ago and I certainly didn’t think it could happen to me.

I was wrong.

At 35 weeks my Son, Jason, entered the world after a very quick and traumatic labour he was born breathing after an unplanned home birth. He was taken straight away and we were told there was a very small chance he would make it. I remember thinking “he’s only 5 weeks early, babies are born and survive at 28 weeks, he’ll be fine”. I didn’t get to hold him alive, he didn’t get to feel my heartbeat from the outside or hear my voice.

My “nearly full term” baby had died. There wasn’t anything I could do and 6 years later the pain, the hurt and the grief hasn’t gone away. You don’t stop grieving for the child you love or for the life you never got to know.

Christmas is a really difficult time for me especially. I love Christmas, always have done but knowing he isn’t here makes it very hard. Christmas is a time for family but when a family member is missing it feels wrong to celebrate. As the years have passed my grief feels different; the first Christmas after Jason died was really tough but we survived by ignoring it as much as we could. Now Jason’s sister is here; it is obvious that Christmas is about family time but the grief is harder to deal with. I long to have presents with Jason’s name on. I know he’d have been so excited to see Santa had been and I long for the Christmas’ I had as a child with my brother. I can’t make plans for Christmas Day – I don’t want to be around anyone other than the three of us because I never know how I’m going to be. I never know if the wave of grief will cause me to shut down. I found writing Christmas cards and not knowing whether to even include him at all tough, it took a long time for me to find a way of including him. Even now, I am constantly wondering whether including him is the right thing to do or not so I choose very carefully who is worthy of seeing his name or his star drawn.

I carried him for 35 weeks, I birthed him, I held him, talked to him, urged him to wake up but to the outside world he is gone and in some ways “forgotten” which hurts all the more at a time when family is at the centre of the celebrations.

The death of a baby affects 1 in 4 pregnancies that’s around 60,000 babies a year in the UK. I never thought my family would be one of those and I’ll never get that innocence back.

Day of Hope

Posted on August 19, 2019 by Amy

One definition of Hope: to want something to happen or to be true, and usually have a good reason to think that it might

19th August in the baby loss community is A Day of Hope. A day to remember all those babies and children who died. A day where people are encouraged to break the silence around baby loss. Whether that is a miscarriage, a stillbirth, neonatal or infant loss, they all matter.

Hope is a strange emotion after loss, for me I found it hard to hope for anything that couldn’t be guaranteed. I didn’t want to feel excited about things if they weren’t going to happen. The hope of meeting your baby during pregnancy is the best feeling in the world but once my eyes were opened to the fact that babies can and do die, having hope wasn’t something I found easy to do. I hoped for my Son, I was so excited to meet the little person growing inside me and although I did meet him, it certainly wasn’t in the way I was expecting and all my hopes were shattered.

Today, I hope that someone is given the courage to talk about their loss, their baby or child. I hope that someone reading this knows that their children matter.

I am not afraid to openly talk about my son who was born, lived and died on the same day nor am I afraid to talk about my loss. Jason’s story is still one of my favourite stories to tell, the ending isn’t happy but, as most of us know, not all stories have a happy ending. I will say his name and share his story for as long as I live. I will break down those barriers that stop parents and others talking about the loss of their own babies.

Aching Arms, baby loss, baby loss awareness, grief, Jason, life after loss, motherhood, Mum Blogger, mummy blog, Neonatal Loss, parenting after loss, stillbirth

Primary School Offer Day

Posted on April 16, 2019 by Amy

In an ideal world I’d have been one of those nervous parents waiting to find out what school my boy had gotten in to. In an ideal world he’d have been accepted to the primary school where I work! In an ideal world I’d already have his uniform, or parts of it in preparation and be excitedly making him try it on for pictures. In an ideal world we probably would have had to put Jason in to the special needs school because that is where he’d have the support he needed. In a less ideal world we’d have to settle or appeal the decision.

I would give so much to be able to take that less ideal world. To be one of those excired/nervous parents dying to know.

Things like this shouldn’t cause me grief, I probably wouldn’t even acknowledge it if I didn’t work in a school however when September comes and I see all those parents and little reception newbies on their first day I know it should be me there too. I will see their anxiousness and wonder whether I’d have felt the same or whether we would both be ready for him to start school. I feel like Ellie is ready to start nursery so I know she will be fine but I will never know what Jason would have been like.

My life with him seems further and further away with every milestone that we don’t hit together. I’ve missed his first words, first steps, first hug, first smile and now ill be missing his first day at school too.

Of cause I miss him constantly and the ache I have to have both of my children here is never ending but sometimes days are harder to deal with than others and there are some days where you just can’t help but think how fucking cruel the world is.

Aching Arms, baby loss, baby loss awareness, grief, Jason, life after loss, Neonatal Loss, parenting after loss, pregnancy and infant loss, Pregnancy Loss, stillbirth, telford

Always One Missing

Posted on April 6, 2019April 6, 2019 by Amy

Wow, as always, the final few days of March were horrendous. I have said for a while now that for me, the build up to an anniversary is always harder than the day. This has been the case for all of Jason’s birthdays. I find the days leading to his birth/death hit me far harder because I carry so much guilt with those days; what if I’d have gotten checked out earlier, what if i’d have known I was in labour, what if I could have done something and I didn’t. Those who have lost a baby/child will understand what I mean by all this. The guilt seems harder every year too, i force myself (more like torture myself) to read past status’ complaining of feeling tired, having swollen ankles, feeling sick, I can’t help myself. I only ever activate my old facebook account on the build up to his birthday, knowing I will see these past status’ and knowing it will feel like a knife to the heart the closer it gets to his birthday.

This year as many of you know, Jason should have been turning 4. He should have been having a party with our family, friends, possibly even some nursery friends and I should have been knee deep in cake, balloons and presents! I wasn’t. I went to work, I pretended I was fine, I sat through a meeting about the mental health and wellbeing of our pupils which then turned into a discussion on a bereavement course our SENCO had recently been on and I just sat there. I wanted to storm out, I wanted to sob, I wanted to scream that Jason wasn’t just a bereavement, he was/is my Son. I didn’t do anything of those things, I welled up at times but composed myself. I decided I was going to ask to leave early, only half an hour so I could see Ellie. I needed to be with her. While I was waiting to speak to my boss, a male teacher got a call, his wife was in labour. I knew it was going to happen. I knew it would be that day. I just knew it. I felt like I was right back in the thick of my grief, the first days where the world kept on turning, everyone’s lives carried on but mine seemed to stop. I felt like I was watching everything in slow motion and it hurt. I did manage to finish early and in the end spent a really nice afternoon with Ellie, in our favourite garden, where I have taken her every year since she was born on Jason’s birthday.

A little garden in Ironbridge, with beautiful flowers, a little wooden park and a cafe that sells the most amazing cake which I treated Ellie too because I couldn’t treat her brother.

The weekend was pretty okay, we took Ellie to Chester Zoo, another tradition we have started since Jason was born. We have gone every year to celebrate his birthday as close to the date as we can. We had such an amazing day, Ellie was really well behaved and walked around most of the day. We walked 6 miles around the zoo, saw loads of animals and thought about Jason all day.

I was gutted that the elephants weren’t out of their house due to illness, I always feel closer to Jason when I see an elephant. Ellie loved watching the baby animals, her favourites being the Meerkats and I enjoyed seeing the animals we have watched on The Secret Life of The Zoo with her. We spent all day there, not getting home until late but it was worth it. Ellie was happy, so we were happy.

Sunday was Mother’s Day. Those mums in our baby loss community know how difficult mothers day is. Regardless of how many children are living, there will always be one missing. I’ll never get a card made at nursery from him. I’ll never have a mothers day hug from him. I’ll never get to spend a mothers day with him. It doesn’t matter how many living children you have, when one is missing it tarnishes the day. I found not acknowledging it helped, I spent the day cleaning, washing, doing our usual Sunday chores. Luke struggled more so I naturally took on the strong role to help make his day seem easier. The Sunday after Jason’s birthday is always difficult for him and this one being Mothers Day made it harder this year. It sucks.

The following day I found the hardest, I couldn’t function. I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to either. I spent an hour in bed crying, my alarm went off and I just didn’t want the day to start. I didn’t go to work, I couldn’t. My head wasn’t in the right place at all. I felt just like I did when Jason first died, the world was once again moving on and I wasn’t ready to carry on. I needed another day to grieve for what should have been, for the life that was taken away from us and from him. I needed another day to feel sorry for myself because this year felt like more and more people weren’t that bothered. “It was 4 years ago, surely they should have let it go by now” It’s exactly what I would have thought before Jason so in my own mind this is what people would be thinking too. It’s okay. I get it because unless you have held a dead baby, sat and cried looking at their tiny coffin, knowing they are in there and there is nothing you can do to turn back time and make it all better, then of cause you aren’t going to understand.

Of cause, I have had 4 years of practise now at pretending I am okay with how my life is, pretending that his loss hasn’t left a giant hole in my heart where he should be. For the most part I’m not even pretending any more. Life does get easier to manage, you start moving forward because you can’t stay stuck in the same loop forever. Except when you do find yourself with anniversaries, celebrations, it’s hard to give yourself time to readjust and if you are like me, you burn out. I have felt pretty drained all week however already I am feeling that glimpse of happiness return, the anniversary is over and although I NEVER stop thinking about Jason, missing him, loving him, each day becomes easier to carry on as if i’m not broken slightly.

Aching Arms, baby loss, grief, Jason, life after loss, motherhood, Mum Blogger, mummy blog, Neonatal Loss, pregnancy and infant loss, Pregnancy Loss

27th March

Posted on March 27, 2019 by Amy

I can’t help but wonder whether that day was when everything started going wrong.

Illness had struck, I worked in a nursery at the time and the sickness bug had hit the kids. The day I was due to finish for my maternity I ended up having off as I was being sick and I felt so bad for not working my last day.

I hadn’t thought much of being sick, other than being grateful I didn’t suffer from morning sickness as I just wouldn’t have coped. I’m not a good sick person at all. I spent the day on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket feeling baby kicks (or so I thought… More like flutters with him being so tiny!) and generally feeling dreadful. I had a constant smell of cigarette smoke around me which was odd as I have never smoked and no one was near the house. To this day I wonder whether someone was trying to tell me something was wrong. That in just 2 days my baby would be gone.

I have since learnt that being sick can be a sign of labour starting and I wonder whether I had signs but was too naive to recognise them. I had just turned 35 weeks pregnant and was innocent in thinking I had 5 weeks to go before we’d meet him. I was unaware that babies were born so early and it’s not something midwives tell you is a possibility either. I feel that the information you are given is just what they think you want to hear not what you should actually know.

The next day I felt perfectly fine, I’d cancelled plans with friends because I had been ill but actually thought about uncancelling due to how much better I felt. I’d taken a picture of my growing bump in a summery dress, we took a stroll to Tesco for pizza as it was what “baby wanted” and while walking around I had started to feel some pains in my tummy that felt a bit like constipation pains… Of cause I know now that they weren’t at all and I should have taken them more seriously and got checked out. Maybe if I had have been checked we’d have been able to save him, we’d have had a chance of saving him.

I think every grieving parent goes through life finding ways to blame themselves for the loss of their baby/child. Those “what ifs” haunt me 4 years later and they always will. Not a day goes by where I don’t feel like I should have known something was wrong and done something.

baby loss, grief, life after loss, motherhood, Mum Blogger, mummy blog, Neonatal Loss, parenting, parenting after loss, pregnancy and infant loss, stillbirth, telford

Goodbye February

Posted on February 28, 2019 by Amy

Goodbye February, this month has been a mixed month. I started off feeling very low and depressed and finished the month off feeling grateful and full of love. As a family we have made so many memories and spent a whole week together having lots of fun.

With the end of February comes March, a month I literally dread. We have lukes birthday on the 4th which I love as I’ve always loved being able to spoil him and show him how much I love him. We’ve always celebrated his birthday with a meal out with his family and we are going to a local favourite place of ours (I may post about it after) on Sunday for Sunday lunch which I am looking forward to.

The rest of the month is a countdown. Reliving the days and weeks before Jason’s death, trying to come up with a reason it happened or something we have all missed. Blaming myself because I was naive to think I deserved to have my baby and that babies were safe! I actually hate the person I was because I was ignorant to the fact that this has happened for thousands of years and it still happens today.

4 years ago I was blissfully unaware that in just 29 days my whole world would collapse. I was hoping my unborn baby would arrive early, impatient to meet him1her and moaning about my pregnancy aches and pains. 4 years ago I wasnt at all scared about being pregnant or that something bad would happen.

In 29 days my son SHOULD be 4. I SHOULD be planning his 4th birthday party and inviting all of his friends from nursery. I SHOULD be spending my money on a few more presents because he deserves it and buying the best birthday cake because if he was like his Mummy and Little Sister he’d have loved cake. I SHOULD be deciding on the theme of his party and writing lists of the food I would need to buy.

Those things were stolen from me. Taken. Gone.

All the things I dreamed of doing as a parent, as a first time mummy, were taken from me the day we were told Jason only lived 37 minutes.

His whole life was spent looking at doctors, nurses, paramedics trying to save him. He never got to be with his parents, the people who love him. I never got to hold him alive.

With March comes a whole lot of memories of that day, one’s I try to suppress partly because it hurts so God damn much and partly because after 4 years you are expected to just get on with it. Jason’s birthday I will have to get up, go to work, pretend that 4 years ago I didn’t have to say goodbye to my son and I’d never see him again. Pretend that everything is okay even when it isn’t.

March is the month that gave me my son and I will Always be grateful for the short time I had with him but it is also the month that took my son away and I can’t wait for it to be over.

baby loss, grief, life after loss, mental health, motherhood, mothering a rainbow, Mum Blogger, mummy blog, Neonatal Loss, parenting, parenting after loss, Positive Wellbeing

Positive Failure

Posted on February 26, 2019 by Amy

A while back I shared the struggle I was having with myself. My mental health was taking a right beating and I was finding it hard getting it back to a healthy balance.

It took a while and a complete breakdown for me to realise that I wasn’t failing. I have spent days, weeks, months feeling like I am a failure. Failing at being a mum, a wife and a friend. Basically failing at being a human being. But the truth is I wasn’t failing at all, I was having a hard time and that is okay. Positive failure.

Admitting things arent perfect is okay. It doesn’t mean you aren’t the best person you can be at that particular time.

Since my “breakdown” I’ve felt better. Something in me may have snapped but I’ve found I can make it even stronger. Positive failure.

I’ve made an effort to be calmer, I’ve made an effort to do more things with friends, simple things like talking more but it’s a start and I celebrated my birthday with the most amazing people I could wish for and it reminded me of how lucky I am to have people who care enough to tell me Im not myself.

That was a hard one to hear, I could sense it in myself but no one has ever said it so plainly as someone I have known pretty much my whole life. I’ve spent so long pretending I am okay, smiling as is I’m not broken inside and hoping others accept it that actually I’d forgotten how to show my true feelings when I needed help.

In the past few weeks I really have noticed a huge change in the way I feel. I feel happier, I’m not as stressed out over slight things. Ellie’s tantrums aren’t taking me to breaking point when actually they aren’t that bad and in return Ellie has been happier. We’ve had more good days than bad days and was able to enjoy our half term off as a family. We made memories that I hope I will never forget and my heart is full of complete love and happiness.

I know this feeling may not last as long as I would like, saying Goodbye to a lovely February means saying Hello to March. To a month that starts off so happy with Hubby’s birthday celebrations but once the 4th is over it turns in to a countdown until Jason’s birthday. The day we should be celebrating his 4th birthday and yet a day where I am reminded of everything I gained and lost within moments. The day he died and I had to say goodbye.

Please be mindful that if I seem distant and off, it is not intentional. I am just grieving for the life of my son who I can’t hug and who I miss so much every day. My heart breaks with every memory we make as a family because he will always be missing but I am also grateful we can make these memories with Ellie, she saved me in ways she will never know and I will always try to be better for her. She is the reason I breathe and for her I will try and make March as gentle as I can.

baby loss, baby loss awareness, grief, life after loss, motherhood, mothering a rainbow, mummy blog, parenting, parenting after loss, Uncategorized

My Journey To Elsie with an Incompetent Cervix

Posted on October 1, 2018 by Amy

I am so incredibly honoured to share a post written by a wonderful Mummy to her two children. Lauren is one of the Mummy’s I found over on IG who unfortunately is part of our baby loss community. Lauren reached out to me as she felt that sharing her story may help others who might find themselves in the same situation she did.

October is Elsie’s month and to start off her celebrations here is her story ❤

Elsie was born sleeping at 23 weeks. I was told the reason for her being born early was because I have “an incompetent cervix.” And that’s exactly how I felt “incompetent.” My body couldnt even keep my own child safe. Elsie was growing perfectly she had beautiful blonde hairs and even though she weighed just over a pound she was fully formed.

Incompetent cervix means that your cervix has started to efface and dilate too soon. This can cause you to give birth too early, typically between 16 and 24 weeks.

Where did that diagnosis leave me? Feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. Guilt that she was growing perfectly but it was my body that had let her down, my body that had pushed her out when she wasn’t ready, my body was the reason she wasn’t here and it was the reason I was watching Karl, my partner and best friend fall apart.

I became pregnant with Elsie in May 2015, my pregnancy was straight forward except for hypermeresis gravidrum an extreme form of sickness. At 23 weeks and 4 days on the 29th October 2015 I had just had dinner and settled down to watch tv. I started having period like cramps, within an hour I was on my hands and knees in agony. We rang the maternity ward and they said to come straight down. I managed to get into the back of karls car to lay down and that’s when I knew she was on her way as i felt the over whelming urge to push. I knew it was 3 days too soon to try and save her, I knew that was it.
We were seen straight away at the maternity assessment ward, at first the consultant told us I wasnt in labour, Karl and I looked at each in complete relief. Seconds later she examined me for the second time and she said the words which replay in my mind ever since ” I’m so sorry shes on her way, and she’s 3 days too soon for us to try and save her, we will let the delivery bereavement suite know we are coming.” I couldn’t believe I was being told I had to give birth to my daughter who I could still feel moving and kicking safe inside me, but I knew she would die during labour or soon after.

Elsies labour was 27 hours from that point so i had alot of time to think of the outcome, and guilt was a strong factor throughout. When the time came to push, how could i? How could i push my daughter out knowing when i did it would mean she would take her last breath and my world would end?
The guilt when Elsie was born went through every part of my body. I pushed and screamed and screamed for someone to take her away as I felt I didn’t deserve to hold her, I didnt deserve to be called her Mummy, I couldn’t bare to look at her knowing she would never grow up because of me. I felt like it was all was my fault. After a while I decided it was time to see her, and at that minute I knew i would go through the last 27 hours of torture to see her again. My beautiful little girl, dressed in a lilac knitted dress, a colour that would always remain as hers. For two days we got to hold her, read to her, tell her all about her family and our friends and that we loved her very much.

I struggled for a long time blaming myself, I researched incompetent cervix again and again trying to find something that could have pre warned me or find something that meant I could blame this on. I had so much anger inside.

Planning a funeral brought more feelings of guilt. Planning a funeral for my little girl was something I never imagined I would ever have to do. All the little worries you’ve ever had in your life seem so irrelevant when your handed over the ” children and baby coffin guide” when just the week before you were picking out your push chair. The day we went to the funeral home to say our final goodbyes was the the day when I cried like I have never cried before, a sound I didn’t even know your body could produce, a sound that actually scared me. It’s as if your entire body and soul have been utterly broken, shattered and you can’t see any way that this heartbreak can ever feel better. Your completly stripped of everything you once were and everything you have ever known. Your facing a reality that is most peoples worse nightmare. I remember begging for someone to take me with her, what was life now if I didnt have her with me? For the weeks and months after life became so hard. Both myself and Karl couldn’t listen to the radio in the car, couldn’t watch TV, how can life go on when this has happened? How can I listen to happy music? We had to sleep with a lamp on as the darkness reminded us that out little girl was buried in complete darkness. Was she scared? Every feeling and thought we had was so raw and hurt like hell.

After a while we attended counselling together at a centre which specialises in parents losing babies/children at any gestation or age. We worked through how we both felt and slowly I began to realise this wasnt my fault, it was my body but I couldn’t have ever predicated this would happen and I couldn’t have done anything to stop it. It all happened so fast.

We now have Elsies brother with us, who to us is a miracle from his sister. The feelings of guilt have slowly come back this year whilst I’ve watched Finley grow up, watching all the things he can do that Elsie never can. Watching Finley watch other siblings play together at the park, knowing he has no idea his sister should be there beside him holding his hand.

We try and think that Elsies purpose of life was to bring her little brother safely into the world, we speak about her because we love her just as much as we love Finley.

With Finley I had a cervical stitch placed at 15 weeks and removed at 36 weeks. It wasn’t straight forward at all, my anxiety and panic attacks were pretty much constant all throughout my pregnancy and even now some days when hes poorly I really believe he will be taken from me but this is something I have recently started working on with counselling again.

For anyone who’s going through a diagnoses of incompetent cervix I would say keep going, its not your fault, there’s help out there and in future pregnancies keep pushing to be seen by a premature consultant as without ours I dont know if I ever could have gone through pregnancy again! Make your voice heard as to what you want.

Finley has healed our hearts in so many ways and taken away so many very dark days, but Elsie left a hole that will never ever be filled, her absence is felt in everything we do and I will never stop wishing that my babies were here together doing all the things a brother and sister should do. xx