I wish....

Sometimes I wish I could turn around and see my baby there...just see her and see what she looks like in this life, breathing, living and enjoying our family. I wish I could see her, catch a glimpse of her interacting with her brothers and trying to get in on their play and arguments. I wish I could pick her up and give her cuddles, I wish I could buy her a pretty dress and put her hair up in pigtails, instead of having all the bags of clothing sitting in the cupboard. I wish I could take her out with me and have people say "oh what a beautiful baby". I wish I could have her in photos and display them on the wall proudly by her brothers, instead of in my bedroom or in the album to protect others peoples feelings. I wish I could be up with her in the middle of the night, providing comfort to ease her bad dreams. I wish she was here, with us, with her family who love her so deeply. I wish we could celebrate her birthday with her here and with cake and candles that she can actually blow out for herself. I wish we had balloons that were for her to play with, not for us to release in remembrance. I wish we could keep our big car because there would be a reason to have it rather than a reason to sell it. I wish people wouldn't ask if we are going to try for another baby, because this is so much harder and deeper than I let on with so many emotions and thoughts jumbled in. I wish that Grace was here, pulling stuff out of cupboards and getting herself into mischief just like her brothers. I wish I never knew the pain of losing a baby and wish I was not "the mummy who lost a baby". I wish I never had to read through blogs of other mummys who lose babies, its just unfair and cruel of life to do this to people. I wish I had of washed my hands more, taken more care of hygiene and maybe just maybe things would be different. I wish I had of kicked up a fuss when those bloods came back with something wrong. I wish I was with my baby right now, instead of writing about her and what I don't have. I wish, I wish, I wish I had my baby girl Grace here, in this life, not waiting in heaven somewhere to meet us later on. I wish I knew she was ok. I wish I could have her back. I wish I could say out loud to people that don't know me, I have two boys and one girl, happy and healthy here in this life. I wish you were in my life Grace, as a toddler who would be turning two this year, in life and with us xoxoxo

Our special book and TTC

I am so happy with the final result of a book that I have just had made by a website called www.blogtoprint.com. My blog has been turned into a hardcover book with all of my posts and all my photos and comments. I cried when I started to read the book....all the initial memories came flooding back and I found it just too hard to continue to read. I will at some time go back through my posts, my photos and re-read everything but for now it is just too hard. I thought I would be fine, I thought I was ready to read through everything we have been through, but obviously I am not. I know this book will be a special memento to pass onto the boys when they are older and it is something that is sentimental to me and something special to place into 'Grace's treasure box'.

And onto other things....the decision to try again for another baby has been weighing heavily on my thoughts. It has been consuming alot of my time and in my head alot. I have started folic acid and I thought my now I would be about three months into TTC for another baby. However I have just not felt ready or comfortable about trying. This month I thought was the month I was ready to start...I had worked out my 'prime' days for conception, been eating fairly healthy and have had folic acid for at least four months now. However when it came time to 'try' I failed....I failed miserably and ended up sitting out in my lounge room crying. I have looked at other babies and decided that I do want another baby, I am not ready to give up on another sibling for the boys. I decided that I dont want to look back in life and regret not having another child because of the fear that is holding me back. However my husband was ready, he is wanting whatever I am wanting and I just could not go through with it. I started to cry and it was all because of the fear of what happened to us, could happen again. I now know there are no passes when it comes to escaping a loss...it very well could happen again and I dont know if I could survive another baby being taken from me. I also felt like in some way I was 'forgetting' Grace by wanting another child, I felt guilty for wanting another baby and I know we can never ever replace her but to have another child means that child will become known to everyone as our 'third child' and yet Grace is our third and nothing can change that but to the world and on paper and to people who dont know what happened, another baby would be our third...so in a small way I feel like I am dishonouring Grace. So anyway this month will not be the month we are TTC....I am just not ready....but will I ever be????


Do you know anyone who has gone on to have a 'rainbow baby'? How did they cope? Have you gone on to have a rainbow baby yourself???

PS I love you

Watching the movie PS I love you...ages ago I watched this movie and thought 'gosh how awful to lose the one you live' and loved the romantic funny side to the storyline....tonight I feel so many of her emotions and can relate....especially when all the girls are in the boat and one friend announces her pregnancy and the other announces her wedding and Hilary is sitting there fake smile and offering them congratulations. I know how that feels. You get good at a fake smile when people tell you of a pregnancy or a new baby has been born. Truly you are happy for them but on the inside the feeling of your own loss hurts and the pain can re-surface at these times of announcements.

The days do get easier and sometimes I feel guilty at having an easier day. Then other days there is a reminder, a feeling, a song, a newborn baby crying....sometimes there are days that pull you back into emptiness, heartache and I miss my baby with that consuming and overwhelming feeling of utter devastation.

To hell and back out again; with the help from family and friends

I follow a blog called 'glow in the woods' and today some of the writers words really struck me as so powerful and this one particular part seemed so appropriate:

"But here's the thing about family, be they the family you call your own by blood or the family that chooses you and that you choose in return, when others run away, they might just stay. If you're lucky. When others are silent, they might continue talking. When I was walking around like an open sore. When there were no right words because the only words I wanted to hear were something along the lines of, "oh this has all been some major administrative error and obviously should never have occurred. Our apologies and please do reclaim your daughter. Just fill in this form." When they had to talk on a subject that was painful and uncomfortable to them for hours and hours because I would not countenance anything else? Well it's inevitable that somebody's feelings are going to get hurt. It's hard to talk about grief and death at length, especially with someone who is as easily jabbed as I am.

I found this quote on the internet a while ago, my sources tell me it's a Swedish proverb. These words remind me of my family.

'Love me when I least deserve it because that is when I really need it.'

So often we overlook our family and the friends who are closest to us as being there and take this as an expectation that it is simply the duty they will do. They are there. They exist. They listen. They speak. They take on board every bit of pain and suffering that you pass on and they make it their own. My family and close friends were there right from the moment we told them 'the news'.

My wonderful husband was a tower of strength. He was so calm and collected and held me up. He took care of the kids, the housework, the calls, the awkward explanations, and he held me whenever I needed it and shit there were some times I needed it. I remember when we were at the hospital and I was walking down the hall to get the amnio done, I nearly collapsed simply from sadness, anger, heartbreak and disbelief and he held me up, held me close and told me he loved me. He would stare at me and not know how to solve what was happening. He was hurting and yet had to carry on also. He didn't break down like I did, he was able to keep his emotions much more together.

My goodness, my mum was so strong, so very strong and she held it together every time we spoke, every time I fell down she picked me up. She did not judge, she did not tell me what to do or how to feel, she was there and she loved me and spent time with my family, supporting in anyway she knew how.

My sister in law, she stepped in and asked questions without crossing the line and she made Grace a person in our lives. She brought treasured items that will remain both with Grace and with us. She made sure that I was 'getting through' and she was there. I felt at peace with her around and no pressure.

My best friend of many years, she was there. She helped with arrangements that I just couldn't bring myself to do but knew they needed doing and they involved facing the general public. She met Grace, she held Grace and she looked at her with normality and no amount of 'fear'. She respected me and what I needed. She listened to me talk about Grace and she gave beautiful treasures to both Grace and us. She printed photos for me and I felt safe with her and comfortable.

Other family members were there also. They sent messages, flowers and offers of help. They themselves were helpless and didn't know how to help or what to say. My father found it hard to face me. He agonised over what to say and what 'not' to say. On the day of the farewell, I remember him clearly standing by Grace's pink coffin as we said farewell to everyone. He placed his hand on the coffin and choked back tears. My brother wasn't sure how to act around me. One of my sisters helped out alot and took care of my two 'other' children. She couldn't speak to me, but she was supporting me in many ways even though she felt helpless. She was fearful of holding Grace, but she did and she found this heartbreaking. But she was strong and she did it. My youngest sister blocked everything out, it was just too unbearable. My mother in law and father in law took the kids a few times, did baking for us and said they really didn't know what to say but they wanted to help. My sister in law on my husbands side, sent so many text messages filled with love.

There were countless acts of kindness and people offering to help. Family watched over the kids while the ceremony was on. They prepared food and were simply here. There were emails filled with words of support and love, poems, quotes, flowers and food. I lost friends and I gained new friends.

I found out what it feels like to feel like everyone is staring at you and nobody knows how to talk to you. I hated it when I heard the words "it just wasn't meant to be"...why f****** not I wanted to scream at them but instead I smiled, a pretend fake smile that I got good at doing. I was good at putting on a brave face in front of people, appearing calm and 'ok'. Yet inside I was living in hell, a black hole that I didn't know or want to get out of. I felt like I would vomit when I heard of an abuse case. I couldn't face people who were pregnant. I screamed silently on the inside when I heard a newborn crying. I was broken and aching and empty. All I wanted was my baby back and for everything to be fine. I realised that when people say "its more important for the baby to be healthy than what sex it is", that is so very true. I hated my life. I hid behind my bedroom door or in the shower, and I cried and grieved held my stomach while I still had Grace there, safe and with me and then when she was gone I felt alone, angry, guilty and sad, so very very sad. I felt like I couldn't face the world and that time was ticking away super slowly. I went over and over when I must have caught the virus and then when I figured it out I was angry at myself for not taking more precautions against illness and not being vigilant enough with hygiene. I lived in a different world for some time and wondered how people said it would get easier.

As time has moved on, I realised that I had to be part of it weather I wanted to be or not. I watched my boys playing and knowing that they needed their mummy. I watched my husband and knew he too needed me. I found strength from the love and support from all my friends and family around me. Each day slowly step by step, I took it as it came, I rode the waves of grief and some days I struggled and some days it did get easier. Life will never ever be the same. I will never ever be the same. I am changed. I am a mum to two boys and one girl. I have an invisible scar, at first it was angry and red raw and now with time and some help the scar is smoothing out but will forever remain. I lost my daughter and I hate that part of my life. I am angry it had to happen to us but also know this has happened to so many families who also would have been wonderful parents. I know now that life has a strong force and life is beyond our control much of the time. Nature is powerful and nature can be cruel. Life can be gone in an instant and life is precious. Life is to be lived and remembered.

I love my baby girl Grace Mary-Kay and I forever will love her. I will forever carry her memory close to my heart and forever have a part of me that is missing, a part of our family that is missing. I hope she is happy and knows how much she is loved.

Another christmas and new years gone...

Home from the beach...home to where the house seems so huge again after the caravan and I notice how many toys and un-necessary items we actually have and yet can not seem to part with. Home to be alone and home to be together with just us again which is nice some of the time. We had a great time at the beach. The weather was not fantastic but it meant more inside time and more time figuring out what to do with the kids and they were close rather than spread out. The time went quickly and when it was time to come home, I actually wanted to stay a few more days. The kids love being at the beach with their friends and family. I love seeing them happy and busy. We were unable to let go of the lantern I took with us due to the weather so this was a bit disappointing.

S gifted me a lovely bracelet the other day...totally out of the blue and a very nice suprise. It is crystals with a variety of healing abilities and also a little 'G' pink heart on it. Thank you very much for that S!!!

I purchased some more images from Carly-Marie who had a special price on sunset images and quotes. I can use these for my scrapbooking or simply just as images. I surround myself with anything that I can to acknowledge that Grace is part of our lives but also to help me 'connect' with her.

I had a conversation with someone a while ago about money and babies and choosing what to do....I am at the conclusion that if you really want another baby then TRY to make it happen...dont worry about the money because there is ways and means of getting that money or making sacrifices if you really want the baby....life is more important and worth more than having money in the bank.

"If you haven't experienced what I have, then dont say "I know how it feels"

If you haven't had to make the decisions that I have, then dont judge

If you haven't felt the pain I have from losing a baby in the way we did, then dont say "it just wasnt meant to be"

If you haven't wanted something so bad and then had it all taken away, then dont pretend you know how it feels

If you choose to ignore me because you dont know what to say, then I may just choose to walk away from you and not look back

If you cant support me, then dont, and dont feel like you have to

If you want to say something, then simply acknowledge my loss and then let me talk and listen without judging me

If you have talked to me about babies or anything to do with babies and I have not responded or seemed interested, it is because this is too painful for me

If you think I am sad, then it is because I am

If you think I am angry, then it is because I am

If you think I am scared, then it is because I am

If you think you can help, then please do

If you are my friend, you will still be in my life, you will be still loved by me and you have helped me through the darkest days of my life".

“Do not judge bereaved parents.

“Do not judge bereaved parents.
They come in many forms.
They are breathing, but they are dying.
They may look young, but inside they have become ancient.

They smile, but their hearts sob.
They walk, they talk, they cook, they clean, they work,
they are, but they ARE NOT, all at once.
They are here, but part of them is elsewhere for eternity.”
–Author Unknown

An article about infant loss

The heartbreak of infant loss

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By Laura Schubert

Oct. 6, 2011 |(17) COMMENTS

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Laura Schubert

This photo shows Anna Schubert, who would’ve turned 5 this month.

Empty Cradles

The Journal Sentinel this year is taking on an issue we have too long ignored - the death of children before their first birthday. Infant mortality is a crisis not just of public health, but of ethics and morality. The rate at which infants die in our city is unacceptable. In 2011 we will examine the problem and point to solutions.

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Did you know that October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month? I'll bet not. Despite the infant mortality crisis that's been at the forefront of Milwaukee's public health news for months, the only people who have more than a cursory comprehension of what it means to lose a baby are those who've lived it.

Infant loss is nature's cruelest practical joke. It's investing all of the required time and effort into pregnancy, only to be robbed of the result. It's cradling a body that grew within your own and trying to reconcile the cold, lifeless form in your arms with your memory of the baby who turned double flips in your womb.

It's worrying that you'll forget what your child looked like and snapping an album's worth of photos that no one will ever ask to see. It's sobbing so hard you can't breathe and wondering if it's possible to cry yourself to death.

Infant loss is handing off a Moses basket to the nurse who's drawn the unfortunate duty of delivering your pride and joy to the morgue and walking out of a hospital with empty arms.

It's boxing up brand new baby clothes and buying a 24-inch casket. It's sifting through sympathy cards, willing your foolish body to stop lactating, clutching your baby's blanket to your chest in hopes of soothing the piercing ache in your heart.

It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.

Infant loss is explaining to your 7-year-old that sometimes babies die and being stumped into silence when she asks you why. It's watching other families live out your happy ending and fighting a fresh round of grief with every milestone you miss.

It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.

It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.

Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.

My baby girl would have been 5 years old this month. I don't know what she'd look like, what her favorite food would be. I've never had the privilege of tucking her into bed, taking her to the zoo or kissing her boo-boos. I will never watch her graduate or walk down the aisle.

Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

Laura Schubert of New Berlin is a mother, teacher and two-time breast cancer survivor