The possibilities of Rainbows…

I know its been a while since my last post.

A lot has happened over the past 8 months! Where do I begin?

We celebrated our beautiful Lachlan’s 1st Birthday and Angelversary, it was a beautiful day and although I was dreading it at first, when the day came I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace. The rumours were true! The lead up can often be far worse than the actual day.

I must confess that I was holding onto a secret that day. I had discovered I was pregnant. My beautiful little angel had sent mummy and daddy an early birthday present, even though we were supposed to give him a present as it was his birthday!

Our painful journey of Trying to Conceive appeared to be at an end, but really it was just the beginning of another journey to get through.

Its funny, the minute you see those lovely lines on your pregnancy test you are supposed to feel an overwhelming happiness and joy. Unfortunately, as an angel mum to a beautiful son and having experienced a devastating miscarriage, those lines didn’t make me feel the way I felt I should. I felt fear and an overwhelming feeling of “please let this one be ok, PLEASE!”.

I was so upset when I ended up in hospital at 4 weeks pregnant with pancreatitus. I had a dreadful ear infection, presented to some after hours doctor who couldn’t care less and who told me that despite me being severely allergic to codeine it was my only option of painkiller. I was in so much pain that I took the damn pills and ended up in the hospital within the hour. I’m still hopping mad at that insensitive cretin of a doctor! There were plenty of other pain options, he was just in a hurry to end his shift!

Lying in the hospital for 2 days on morphine I really thought that there was no way this little life inside me would survive this. I was assured otherwise but I was petrified.

I also discovered that I had developed early onset Gestational Diabetes and would have to be monitored very closely by my endocrinologist, but I was absolutely fine with this. I have had to watch my diet and have daily injections and blood monitoring but I have lost weight and am very healthy so thats been a positive of this.

The next week was spent getting multiple blood tests to keep me assured that my HCG levels were ok and rising, because my previous miscarriage had seriously dented my confidence. The only bad thing about this was that there was a test I had done on a friday that I didn’t get results for until monday and one of my doctors misread the date thinking it was done that day instead of the previous friday. I was told my levels were really low and that I may have another miscarriage. I spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch sobbing until my mum begged me to call my ob and get another test. Luckily he was lovely and ordered another urgent test and of course all the results were fantastic! It was a harrowing day.

Then I got a slip from my ob so I could go and get a dating scan at 5wks 5days.

I sat in that waiting room shaking and burst into tears while my mum and hubby held my hand. The last time a had a scan I was told that my little speck wasn’t viable, so I was understandably petrified about repeating the same experience.

Luckily, the sonographer was lovely and in about 5 minutes I was crying because my little Tadpole had a beautiful little flicker of a heartbeat on the screen! What a beautiful miracle!

I spent the next 7 weeks having weekly scans at my ob’s office because I was just so on edge. Luckily he was very understanding and reassuring throughout this time. Every week was a journey of pure hell, hoping that I would still see a lovely little life in there thriving each week. I was plagued by the fear of turning up and being told my little Tadpole was no more. Thankfully this didn’t occur, but the fear was debilitating in my everyday life.

Finally came the day (around 12 wks pregnant) when I could find my Taddy’s heartbeat on the doppler at home! This was the most amazing thing ever and I was so relieved that I could now gain reassurance at home whenever I needed it. My scans weren’t as scary anymore as I knew I was walking in there with a baby that had a heartbeat. Anyone who says dopplers cause mothers more worry has no idea what they are talking about, let me tell you!

I got through the 13 wk nuchal scan and was relieved that so far our little Tadpole looked healthy and happy. But it was always in the back of my mind that Lachlan did too, so the reassurance was often short-lived.

So now I graduated to fortnightly visits with my ob. I felt comfortable doing that and I was not nearly as on edge as I had been.

However, this was not to mean that I would be breathing easy, just a bit easIER…

So I kind of muddled my way through the next 8 or so weeks with the help of my trusty doppler that was loaned to me by a very kind friend!

Once I hit about 20 wks I started to feel definite movements instead of flutterings. My placenta is at the front of my uterus which means that it was harder for me to feel these movements. Not something that I really needed to be honest! A nice back lying placenta would have been more appreciated!

So I was now hurtling head first towards my morphology scan and finding out the sex of our baby.

I honestly, up to this point, thought I was having a girl. So did a lot of the people around me. I honestly didn’t care what I was having as long as it was healthy (and believe me, when an angel mum says this, we REALLY mean it!) However, it was always in the back of my mind that boys appeared to be a much higher risk for stillbirth and SIDS. This was something that plagued me and I knew that if I was having a boy I would have to come to terms with this. It was hard to explain this to people.

We had our scan and we found a beautiful little healthy boy (of which there was no doubting it! LOL!) I was so relieved that everything was ok but I couldn’t shake the fears or statistics out of my head about having a boy. I certainly wasn’t upset or disappointed about it, it was just the knowledge that I have about boys being a higher risk that was weighing on my mind. After a couple of days of serious pondering I shook it off and embraced our little Tadpole. I knew I loved him from the minute I knew he was there and higher risk or not my love would never change. Whatever happened we love him and we gave him a name (which shall remain a surprise until his arrival).

We feverishly started to look at names and furniture and baby stuff. For the first time we felt able to do this with a reasonable degree of optimism and hope. It was really hard to get to that point though and some days we would purchase things right in the moment as we knew we might not feel the same tomorrow. Its a pattern that has stayed with us right throughout this pregnancy.

I did end up at the hospital a couple of times between 21-28 wks due to decreased fetal movements. Unfortunately until 24 weeks they can’t really do a CTG but they did their best to reassure me and told me to come back anytime I was concerned. I have certainly taken them up on that offer a few times since then!

I ended up in hospital a couple of times due to hypoglycaemia, which was extremely scary for me but luckily the baby was absolutely fine. I just had to be a lot more careful about monitoring myself and my food intake (which had fallen due to loss of appetite) so I upped the ante and ate lots of healthy stuff and made sure I was at the right levels before I went to bed. Touch wood I haven’t had a problem for a while.

I was now hurtling towards week 28-29. This was a huge thing to deal with as Lachlan passed away at 28wks 5 days and was born at 28wks 6days. I spent this week making friends with my doppler again and I saw my ob twice in this week, which he was absolutely fine with. I was stressed out of my brain and I woke up a couple of times thinking I was having a hypoglycaemic episode due to my diabetes but found I was actually having a serious panic attack. It was a very harrowing week full of stress and anxiety.

Having made it past that gestation I was now in unchartered territory. I can’t really remember being this pregnant with KJ as it was quite a while ago now and I was so blase and innocent about his pregnancy.

I’m currently 34 weeks pregnant. I’m carrying a baby that is a lot bigger that KJ was and experiencing a lot of things that I haven’t had before like awful pelvic and back pain. However, I don’t care! I have a healthy thriving little chubba bubba in there who I can’t wait to meet.

I’ve had my share of panic attacks while purchasing things. I couldn’t purchase nappies or a car seat until recently as the thought of it made me hyperventilate in the middle of Target a few times. I struggled to buy my breastfeeding tops and bras. Its been very difficult somedays.

I wanted to share an honest account of a rainbow pregnancy with you as all to often people think that once you are pregnant again its all good. Its far from it really. Its a time of great stress and worry and anxiety, coupled with guilt as you struggle to love and embrace this new life growing inside you while wishing your angel was still with you. I find it hard to reconcile the fact that had I not lost Lachlan I wouldn’t be having Taddy, and thats a really hard thing to think about.

A rainbow baby does not “fix” the hurt and pain you have been through. A lot of people seem to think it does, and I can’t understand how they can think that. As I sit here writing this, the pain of losing Lachlan is still with me. I’m feeling new life kicking inside me and looking at my Lachlan’s things on the shelf and thinking of how unfair it is that he isn’t here.

I am so in love with our three little men, KJ, Lachlan and Taddy. I can’t wait to meet Taddy in a few weeks time. I’m hoping that once he arrives the band of anxiety around my chest may ease and I might be able to breathe again (with the help of the multiple breathing monitors I have purchased for him!). I tell him everyday how much I love him and can’t wait to meet him and he kicks me so I know he’s heard me. Until he is safely in my arms, people can tell me all they like to stay positive, but they have no idea of the anxiety or the knowledge I live with everyday. Not all babies survive and once you know this first hand, you cannot simply forget it.

I must send a special thank you out to my family and friends, you know who you are. Hubby and I could not have got this far without your love, support and positive thoughts that we know you’ve been sending our way. I am so touched that we have so many people that care for us, our boys and our little Taddy. We are so very lucky to have you all in our lives.

Please stay tuned for the news of Taddy’s arrival, I can’t wait to share my rainbow with you, no matter what happens…

 

 

 

 

One year on, Happy 1st Birthday to my angel xx

To my dear darling son,

Where can I begin to tell you how much I miss you? How can I possibly tell you how much I love you? I am desperately holding on the hope that you know how much I love you and miss you. To think otherwise is just unbearable to me.

This past year has been the hardest year of my life. Learning to live without  you is one of the hardest things your mummy & daddy have ever done. This is not the life I wanted for us my darling, I would give anything to hold you in my arms again. I try so hard to see you look up at me with eyes filled with love and to see you smile in my head.

In my head I have held you so many times, I have lovingly taken off your little suit and given you a bath and cared for you the way I so desperately wish I could. In my dreams I have watched you playing with your friends in Heaven. In my dreams I have seen you grow and do all the milestones I wish I could watch you do here on earth. In my dreams I see you play with your big brother.

Sometimes I wonder if you are here, I feel you watching us, I felt you give me a kiss on the cheek the other night. In that place, just before I fall into a slumber,  when I am not quite awake but not quite asleep, I see you and feel you.

Not a single day has gone by in the last year that I have not thought about you. I think about you all the time my little boy. My little boy who I miss so much. I wonder if you would have been walking by now? I wonder if you would look like your brother? I wonder what you would look like and I wonder what eye colour you would have, would you have brown eyes like your brother? Or would they have stayed blue like mummy’s? I know your hands and feet were exactly like mine, you had my nose, my eyes and my chin. You had daddy’s little ears. You were the image of your big brother when you were born, but I always wonder if you would have stayed that way or turned out to look more like your daddy?

I wonder if you and your brother would have been the best of friends, I know that you hang around him a lot, I can see it when he knows you are there. It gives me great comfort to know that you are such a wonderful little brother who looks out for his big brother, but I still wish that you were here and KJ was looking out for you, that is the way I always wanted it to be my darling. I wanted to look after you, but instead I find myself having to cope with the fact that you will be looking over us and looking after us.

I desperately wish you were celebrating your birthday with us. I wish we could have a party full of laughter and fun and presents. I wish we could have a big happy cake and lots of balloons and love. We will still have a cake for you my darling, but it will be an angel cake. Instead of presents, we will send you up some butterflies to play with.

I’m sure you will be having a big celebration in Heaven with all of our friends and family who are no longer with us. I really hope that you have found the angels of the friends who I have met here on earth. You have bought me so many wonderful new friends with angel babies, thank you for sending them to me to help me get through this life without you and to help me find my way. It’s just another way that I know you are always looking out for me. I still wish that I could look after you though my darling, it is always a mother’s wish to look after and care for her children. It is a primal need that is engraved on every mothers heart. It goes against my whole being to fight that urge of needing to care for you. I try to find other ways to care for you instead, as I can’t have you here with me.

I spend a lot of time scrapbooking, I am sure you have seen me at my table for many a night after everyone has gone to bed, madly trying to create pages of memories for you. Either that or you have seen me making angel frames for my friends angel babies. These are the ways that I spend time with you, for every second I am doing them I am thinking of you.

Although a year has passed, the pain hasn’t eased, I think I have just learnt to live around it.

Although you aren’t here with us and your life was so short, you have left a legacy that could never be taught my darling son. You have taught me so much about myself, about others and about life. Some things have been hard to learn but others a pleasure to discover. Its been lovely to witness the other people whose lives you have touched so deeply, you have left your footprints on this world baby, even though you only had tiny little feet.

Its so hard to believe it’s been a year, it seems to have gone by so quickly and yet also seems like a lifetime ago.

We will never stop missing you and we will love you to our dying day and beyond. As long as we are alive, your memory will live too, we will never forget you my special little boy.

Wishing you a Happy 1st Heavenly Birthday and Angelversary Lachlan, sending you lots of love and kisses.

We will never ever forget you darling boy xxoo

Lies – The lies we tell everyday

Today is August 19, which is supposed to be a Day of Hope. Today, we break the silence and taboo about baby loss. Today I am choosing to stop lying to you.

I am tired of lying. I lie everyday. When someone asks me a simple question like “How are you?” I feel that gut wrenching feeling in my heart knowing that I am about to lie when I say “Fine” or “Good”. Its a lie. I’m not fine. Nor am I good. I am heartbroken. I lost my son and I will never see him again or hold him in my arms or watch him grow up the way he was supposed to.

I am so fucking tired. I am tired of getting up in the mornings. I am tired of going to uni and learning about shit that I am currently experiencing and fighting back tears in class. I am tired of fighting to break the silence, of fighting to get hospitals to do the right thing when mothers lose their babies. I am so so tired. Everyday is a fight, everyday there is another thing that I have to swallow and smile and pretend I’m ok with it. 

The honest truth is that I will never be ok. I feel like I may never be ok again. Some days are easier than others, but the hard days truly suck so much that I can’t even explain how it feels. I can honestly tell you that without my little KJ I would have tried anything, and I mean ANYTHING to be with Lachlan again. I did entertain thoughts of suicide, but the only thing stopping me was the fact that it wouldn’t be fair on KJ to grow up in this world without his mummy. He needs me here on earth, although it rips me apart to have to choose between which of my children needs me the most.

This last year has been the worst year of my life. I can say that without a doubt. Learning to live a life after what I have been through has not been easy by any means. Some days I would still love to crawl into that black hole that hovers on the edge of my being but everyday I somehow find the will to fight it off. I am still living things one day at a time, putting one foot in front of the other, and I still stumble sometimes, on the edge of the black hole. It constantly threatens to suck me in, especially when I am really exhausted, but I fight it off. Its exhausting. It would be so much easier to give up and tumble in, but I don’t. I fight. I am “strong”. But I wonder why I am being so strong sometimes, until KJ smiles at me, then I remember why. 

Its an effort to put a smile on my face, a huge effort to put my own feelings aside so that I don’t make others uncomfortable. Its a huge effort to pick up the phone and ring people, a huge effort to try to maintain a “normal life”. The truth is that I am getting a bit fed up with it. I want to scream sometimes, “NO, I am not FUCKING FINE! My baby died!” But the thought of seeing the look of horror on peoples faces keeps me from exposing my real feelings.

Its hard to believe that its nearly been a whole year that I have lived this existence. I have no idea how I made it through, I survived the loss of my son, my miscarriage (I might add I did all of this with a husband who was away majority of the time providing for our family, for that I love him, but it wasn’t easy at all!) and now I am surviving a constant battle of month after month of failure to conceive. Anyone who hasn’t experienced the battle of infertility cannot understand just what that word means. The word “Infertility” is seemingly bandied about and no one stops to think about the meaning behind it. 

It means that every month your period arrives you have a crushing reminder of another month of failure. Every month that you go by not pregnant is driven like a hammer through your heart and the reminder of your failure is there for 6 whole days when you go to the toilet or have the worst period cramps ever. Every cramp, every spot of blood on that toilet paper just screams “FAILURE!” Every month it is a reminder that my womb lies empty and barren and how it failed my son too. Every month, that little bit of hope that you so desperately hold on too starts to diminish slowly, until you begin to stop even daring to hope. You circle the day of your period and expect to curl up in bed sobbing your heart out (amazed that you even have any tears left to cry) because you failed to conceive again. 

I have finally bitten the bullet, admitted failure to myself and booked in to see an IVF specialist. Our appointment isn’t until November but apparently he is worth the wait. All I can think is that I have another 3 crushing periods to go through until I see him and who knows how many after that. Then, what on earth do I have to look forward too? Hormone injections that might send me even more crazy than I already am? Money money and more expense for something that might not even work? Another possible lot of endless months and cycles of trying for something that may never eventuate? Yes, you can see my hope is fading and fading fast. I can’t even bring myself to be remotely excited about meeting this guy. This may or may not hold the key to our infertility, I am going with the may not option because my hope is almost gone. 

People think “oh well, just do IVF”, it is REALLY NOT THAT SIMPLE! Its a lot of pain, heartache and money, invasive procedures and a damn lot of effort for no guaranteed results. 

People said after Lachlan died “you’re young, you can have another baby”, oh yes, it is that easy isn’t it? 

As Lachlan’s anniversary looms closer, I am reminded of how much of a failure I feel. I failed to protect my son and now I am failing to fall pregnant again. I hate my body, I loathe it. I loathe that I failed Lachlan and I hate the fact that this date is looming ahead of me, ready to compound my feelings of failure and to compound the fact that my son isn’t here and he never will be again. I will never see him smile or feel his arms around me or smell his gorgeous baby scent of innocence. Instead, my innocence has been shattered forever.

I am tired of lying, so I am telling you the truth. The truth is that I am tired. The truth is that I am battling the constant failure of trying to conceive. The truth is that sometimes I feel like giving up. The truth is that I am surrounded by friends who are pregnant and are giving birth to their healthy babies while I sink into a pit of despair that it will never happen for us again. These are the truths that I live with everyday, in silence, for fear of upsetting people. I am sorry if this upsets you, but I need to tell you the truth before I spontaneously combust in a fit of rage and despair. This is my REAL truth. Its not easy to hear the truth, but I am tired of telling lies when I am constantly encouraging other mums to tell their truths. Perhaps this is time that I need to take my own advice. This is the one time in my life that I believe I am justified in a little selfishness, however uncomfortable it makes people. 

August 19, the Day of Hope. My hope is fading.

Time goes on, but my world has stopped.

I know its been a while since my last post.

I have been having a couple of really tough months lately.

Its amazing how grief works, one minute you are standing tall and thinking that you are going to be ok, and the next you are in bed crying and trying to suffocate yourself under the doona.

As it gets closer to my darling Lachlan’s anniversary, I am overcome with so many things.

Dread, fear, uncontrollable crying and a feeling of being on a terrifying rollercoaster that is coming closer to a place I just don’t want to go.

I feel like every day we get closer to being one year since it all happened, the further away from him I am. Its hard to explain, but it’s like this significant event just cements the fact that he really isn’t here and he never will be. I know that I thought I had come to terms with all of this, but perhaps I haven’t really.

I feel like I am reliving everything all over again. It plays like a movie in my head, it starts from the moment I found out he was gone and ends up to this moment where I am sitting at my computer writing this blog post.

Things I am normally ok with are becoming increasingly difficult to deal with because of my own pain I am feeling. Stories that would make me sad now make me sob, helpless with misery and the despair that I know other parents are going through. The thought or knowledge of another mother (or father) going through the hell we have been through rips my heart to pieces.

Throughout all of this, I have been trying to remember every moment and in a weird way it is also kind of comforting to remember it all. I don’t want to forget a single moment of my journey, this journey means that my son was here, he lived inside me and I don’t ever want to forget my precious little boy.

I remember why I am doing my uni course, I remember all of the things I want to do to keep my little boy’s memory alive and to create his legacy. A legacy that I want to make him proud of.

My son was here, he lived and he will always be my son. I will never forget him and I will always love him the way only his mother can love him. With every piece of my heart and soul, every day, until my soul ceases to exist.

Blood isn’t necessarily thicker than water……

So, in case you couldn’t tell, my father is NOT in my good books.

Unfortunately, this time, I am not sure if he ever will be again.

My father and I have always had an extremely tumultuous relationship. When my parents got divorced (I was 9), he always put me in the middle and used me to get to my mother. This isn’t something that I have imagined, although he certainly tries to tell me this when I bring it up. It is what happened. I wish he would take responsibility for his actions of the past, but I have accepted that this is never going to happen. I have also accepted that he does not know how to be a parent and we have never had a typical parent/child relationship. He has always leaned on me and dumped his problems on me for as long as I can remember. I was forced to grow up very quickly when my parents divorced, as I was all my dad ever had, his only daughter. I felt that I had to be there for him, because he had no one else. At 28 years old, I resent my childhood that I missed out on and I have finally realised that I am not responsible for him anymore and his problems are his own, not mine to bear.

I will start this post however, from last years Easter, as this is where our latest saga begins.

Father has always lived in a different state to me since Mother & Father’s divorce.

Last Easter, Father & Step-Mother came to stay. Before they came however, I must clarify that they had been having severe marital issues for several years, and Step-Mother had finally left him. It was not long before Easter that they got back together. After months of listening to him whinge and whine and bitch and lean on me after the breakup, I was actually appalled at the speedy reunion and I knew it wouldn’t last.

So they arrived at our house, full of sickening PDA’s and marital advice. I sorely resented this, it was not long before this that I had to listen to Father moaning about all of these certain issues in their relationship and suddenly they arrive at my home and I can see no sign that any of these issues had been resolved. My husband and I were going through a difficult patch, which was none of their business, and they felt that they could stick their big fat noses into our business and dish out relationship advice? With good cause, this royally pissed me OFF!!

I was also newly pregnant with Lachlan, extremely unwell and really did not have the patience nor inclination to deal with their baggage in my home. So I cracked the shits. I was rude, I had a bad attitude and they ended up leaving our home at 3am to drive back to where they came from.

After this, we did not speak until about three weeks before DH & I lost Lachlan. In between though, Father & Step-Mother split up and got back together again a couple of times. My Step-Mother appalled me by sending me messages on Facebook about what had happened. I was so angry that instead of talking to us about it, my Father had run away (again) and now I was getting FACEBOOK messages from her? I thought this was absolutely and horribly rude and impersonal, so I blocked her from my facebook. Not only was it none of her business as she and my Father were not together anymore, but she continued to dish out marital advice and I have only found out recently (probably because hubby was worried that I would kill her!) that she even went so far as to message my mother in law on facebook to tell my MIL of her concerns about our marriage. I am FUCKING LIVID about this (excuse my french). I will never speak to that woman again as long as I live, for the reasons I have just outlined as well as others regarding her personal beliefs that I do not agree with.

Anyway, moving on. They came back here for Lachlan’s funeral. I had mixed feelings about this, as I had not really had much to do with them during my pregnancy and I was still mad. I was also dealing with all of these feelings regarding our son’s death and it really wasn’t a good mix. I was resentful of the fact that they dared to call themselves Grandparents when they really hadn’t bothered to have a relationship with my oldest son and certainly never had anything to do with Lachlan or my pregnancy. Yet, they arrived and I was so worried about hurting their feelings that, as usual, I went against my own feelings and involved them in the service as Grandparents. I will always regret this.

We ended up going to stay with them for a few days at my husbands insistence. He was so desperate to get me out of the house and try to fix me, as men do, bless. Father & Step-Mother had decided to get back together (again) and we had to sit there and listen to all their plans (again) and I was in such a mess and so numb that I just didn’t care anymore. I had lost my son, I really didn’t give a shit what they decided to do, even though they seemed to think I did. Then, my Father decided to get roaring drunk, I think his guilt at not being there for me finally got to him, and I (the grieving mother) ended up driving him to the hospital at 3am as he was dangerously drunk and we were extremely concerned for his well-being. I was over the limit myself and risked my license to get him to the hospital. As usual, my father turned things back onto himself and it was all about him. It’s just another a shining example to me of his absolute selfishness. It was the last thing I needed to be dealing with, my son had just died! Sort your own shit out Father! I so should have told him that at the time. I needed my Father, and again I ended up being the one there for him. It was a pattern that has been prevalent for most of my life.

Anyway, I forgave him, as usual. I didn’t bother confronting him about it, I couldn’t be bothered. He constantly deflects his bad behaviour and always blames others, there was really no point.

Last December came and DH’s company decided to fly the three of us over interstate for his company Christmas party. My Father lives in the same state so we told him we were coming. This trip was the final straw for hubby with regards to Father. We spent the entire trip doing only things that Father wanted to do, including a whole 6 hours in the car with our poor toddler who, by the end of the day in the car, was completely fed up! I was still exhausted, anyone who has gone through the grief process can understand that after you lose a child, you become weak and easily exhausted. You can just imagine what 6 hours in the car did to me! We had specific things that we wanted to do and advised Father of this and not once did he bother to take us where we actually wanted to go! DH & I were appalled at his selfishness and total disregard for our poor son and ourselves. He dragged us all over the place. DH got fed up and stayed in our hotel room with our toddler the next day. I stupidly went with Father the next day, not wanting to hurt his feelings (again) and was again dragged all over the place. I was exhausted and my temper was short again by the end of the day. We finally left and came home and I was so relieved, it was an exhausting and unpleasant trip, far too soon after Lachlan had died and far too close to his due date which was looming ahead of us.

Finally, we come to this Easter that we are currently celebrating. Father was arriving Thursday morning. I was already annoyed with him as his flight arrived at 5am and he expected me to get my poor toddler out of bed and go and pick him up from the airport. I was extremely annoyed at this expectation and appalled that he just expected it! There was no offer of him getting a cab, I was to pick him up. This was the first of many things to piss me off.

As usual, I swallowed my feelings and just got on with it. It was only the night before that I had discovered I had miscarried my most recent pregnancy. I was tired, emotional, hormonal, had crazy blood sugars and was still coming to terms with our latest loss. Of course, my selfish Father had absolutely no inclination to even try to understand, he just ignored me and carried on. My ex-step mother was supposed to be coming on Sunday night to spend the night and they were to fly back to where Father comes from together Monday morning. I received an email from her advising she would be arriving Saturday and staying for two nights instead. I was extremely annoyed that she didn’t even ask if this was ok and I didn’t think it was too much to ask that we spend Easter morning together as a family and then she arrived Sunday night. I phoned Father before he arrived to tell him I was displeased with this arrangement and can we please stick to the original plan of her only being here for a night. He agreed.

So he arrived Thursday morning, already having annoyed me greatly before he even got here and I dragged my poor toddler out of bed to pick up his Grandfather who he really doesn’t know because he has only seen him twice before in his life.

We came home and the toddler and I had a sleep before we woke up and had to go up to the shops. My best friend had asked if we could meet her for lunch as she knew I wasn’t coping with the night before. She was the amazing soul who had picked up the pieces and put me to bed that night after I lost my pickle. So she wanted to keep a close eye on me with hubby away and Father being here. As you know, the last two weeks have been extremely awful for me with regards to my health and my miscarried pregnancy. I had some medical things to claim and I was stressing about the expenses we had outlayed over the past two weeks. I was also devastated by our latest loss and proceeded to break down in Medicare and sob when I was claiming my things. I was extremely distressed and embarrassed by this and I came out to see Father & the toddler and I was clearly distressed. Father couldn’t even bring himself to simply put his arm around me and comfort me. Instead he proceeded to tell me to sit down and let me sob before picking an argument with me about why I was upset. I was horrified, but far too weak to tell him to get stuffed, so I carried on.

Friday was an ok day, certainly better than Thursday, but we proceeded to rub each other the wrong way all day as I was rather resentful of Father by this stage. Finally it came to Friday night and it was time to collect husband, thank god! Husband came home, he had a shitty week as well, as was less than supportive when he arrived. Saturday morning came and I was rather pissed off with hubby. We had a fight that morning and so I was really shitty with him for most of the morning. We decided to go into the city before taking the toddler over to our in-laws for a family easter get together. Father wanted to go into the city to have a look around and to get a present for his new girlfriend. Hubby & I agreed and we decided to go as it was on our way to his parents home.

When we arrived in the city, Father was extremely quiet and unbeknownst to me, he had said something to my husband which had upset hubby. He asked hubby what my problem was and why I was so angry and hubby came to my defense, of course, and told him to go easy on me as I had been through a rough few days. Father responded with “well she doesn’t have to take it out on us”. Not that it was any of Father’s business, but I was cross with my husband and it was between hubby & I! Again, another example of him only caring about himself, and no regards for me or what I was going through. This royally pissed me off and I spent another hour crying silently before I phoned my mother to come and get me as I had enough at this stage. I was tired, a virus I have been fighting for the last three weeks was rearing its head again, I was emotional and I was a wreck. I just wanted my mummy. So I left them in the city and I went to my mums house.

Hubby came to get me later from my mothers and proceeded to tell me all of the awful things my Father had said to him for the rest of the day. The thing that annoyed me the most was he honestly expected hubby not to tell me. Sorry Father, but although hubby and I had a fight that morning, we have a rock solid marriage and we tell each other everything! We are a team.

He told me that Father had complained bitterly to him about my attitude, that I have a bad attitude. He told hubby that our house is filthy (which it is NOT!) and that I do nothing all day. Lets just keep in mind that not only is this a LIE but I had just had a miscarriage and sorry if I didn’t feel that inclined to do any housework! Fuck you Father! Anyway, he also told hubby that hubby shouldn’t be expected to do housework, he should just come home and put his feet up. Sorry Father, again, hubby and I are a team and he helps me around the house, because that is the kind of man I married.

He basically told hubby that he doesn’t know why hubby puts up with me and that if things get rough, hubby can always leave. That attitude of his probably explains why he now has two failed marriages under his belt. He was an absolute bastard, hubby was appalled. I was horrified with the things he said, there was more but that was the gist of it.

Father, your complete lack of compassion and empathy towards me for your entire visit was what led to me asking hubby to go home and remove you from my home. I know that you told hubby that I “probably won’t speak to you for another decade” and unfortunately this is true. Except it won’t be for 10 years, you are no longer welcome in my life and certainly no longer welcome to call yourself a Grandfather to my son. The sad thing is, you will never understand that it is your actions and behaviour that have led to this consequence. Instead, I know you too well, and you will go home and bitch to your new girlfriend and sob on her shoulder about what a bitch I am and poor you I have cut you out of my life again. I wish I could make you understand how appalling your behaviour is, but I know I will be beating my head against a brick wall. You will never change, I don’t know why I fooled myself into thinking you would. You will always put yourself before me and cast judgements on things you know nothing about. I am sorely disappointed that you are my Father, I wish I had been born to another Father, a Father who always thought of me first and who was always there for me. Instead, I am lucky enough to have a Step-father who gladly filled this role. He may have his faults and drive me crazy sometimes, but he has always been there for me. Blood is not thicker than water, he is not my blood and yet he still calls me his own.

So, sadly this Easter, not only have I lost another pregnancy, but to add to my compounded grief, I have also lost my Father.

I hope one day he realises what he has lost and what he has done. But I know in my heart that is wishful thinking on my part.

Blood is not thicker than water.

Fly free my little Pickle :(

One in 4 women will experience the heartache of miscarriage or infant loss. That is a sobering statistic.

I have had a hell of a rollercoaster ride over the past couple of weeks.

It all started when my period didn’t arrive when it usually would have….

I was due on the 18th of March and………nothing!

I was so excited, I dared to hope and dream that the last 4 months of trying had not been in vain and we had finally conceived!

I went to my doctor for a blood test because nothing was showing up on my pregnancy tests at home.

Come monday afternoon and I was absolutely shattered when my doctor phoned to say that the result had come in negative.

Come Tuesday and still nothing, I was daring to hope again. So I did some research about how long it can take for an egg to be fertilised after ovulation and how long it could take to travel and also discovered that if your HCG level comes in under 5, it is considered a negative blood test. Perhaps it was just too early to tell?

I went and bought a very early pregnancy test that can detect small amounts of HCG, and there it was! A positive line! It was what I had been waiting for.

I skipped into the doctors office on Wednesday and showed her my new hobby, peeing on sticks! She was so happy for me and said that she was absolutely gutted to have to tell me on monday that my test was negative.

We ordered another blood test and I went home to pee on some more sticks and it was official! I was pregnant!

I was so happy, for the first time since I lost Lachlan, I was truly happy and I dared to hope that we were finally getting our rainbow.

I made an appointment to see my endocronologist straight away and miraculously she was available first thing the following week.

It was really lucky that I got an appointment with her in the first place as she was in high demand and it was even luckier as it was discovered my little Pickle had already given me gestational diabetes this early on. I was put on insulin and began the tedious process of monitoring and recording my blood sugar levels 4 times a day and giving myself insulin injections each night. At this point in time I would have happily pulled my own fingernails out each night if it meant we were having a baby!

I was elated to finally call my lovely OB/GYN and tell him the wonderful news. He was so happy for us and made an appointment for me to come in and have a chat about our approach to this pregnancy and to have a little peek at our little Pickle.

I already loved my Pickle, I sang to Pickle, played music to my Pickle and talked to my Pickle every day. I asked Pickle to hang in there and please please don’t give up.

I went in to my appointment with trepidation. I just felt so nervous and all week I had been having nightmares about my OB telling me that there was nothing there and I was making it all up or telling me that there was no heartbeat or something. I shrugged it off, figuring that if Pickle had already given me Gestational Diabetes then it must have had a strong toehold.

I took my mum & my bestie to the appointment as my hubby was away again. My bestie waited outside while mum & I went in to see our little Pickle for the first time.

Then the devastating news, Pickle wasn’t growing the way it should have been and it was possible that perhaps it wasn’t a viable pregnancy. I was to wait until Saturday and come back for another scan.

I was really upset at first, but I still couldn’t bring myself to give up on my Pickle. I went home and just prayed that everything would be ok and we would get there on Saturday and Pickle would have grown and it would be ok. My OB gently told me that there was a chance it could be ok, as I hadn’t had any bleeding so far and there was no sign of an eptopic pregnancy, so he was cautiously optimistic for my sake.

Then I got home yesterday afternoon after picking my toddler up from daycare and I realised that I was losing my little Pickle. I was bleeding and it was heavy and bright red. My little Pickle had decided to go and join its brother in Heaven. I was so upset, and at first I thought my symptoms of shaking and feeling really off were from being in shock, then I realised that I was actually going into hypoglycemia and my sugar levels were really low. That was when it hit me that there was no hope left and Pickle was absolutely leaving me.

I am absolutely shattered. Its been such a rollercoaster ride from day one and I am emotionally spent and completely heartbroken.

My Pickle finally passed this morning, I could see that it had left me and I also felt it in my heart. Its a hard feeling to explain, just emptiness.

For now, I just feel like I have taken about 50 steps backwards and I am in that place that I really didn’t want to go back to. All those months of heartbreak and grief and trying to conceive and then to be given this little beacon of hope that was so cruelly snatched from us again, just as Lachlan was 6 months ago.

Life is just so cruel, I just don’t understand it.

Fly free my little Pickle, though your time with me was far too brief, I loved you from the minute I knew you were there and I will always love you. You were so loved and wanted. Someday we shall all meet again, but for now, I hope your big brother is looking after you in Heaven. Love always, Mummy xxoo

Helpful Reading Materials

BOOKS:

The Spiritual Lives of Bereaved Parents – Dennis Klass

Published USA, 1999

This book describes how parents lose, find or relocate spiritual anchors after the death of their child. Dennis Klass describes how ordinary people reconstruct their lives after their foundations have shifted and how they make sense of their world after one of their centres of meaning has been removed. The author grounds his descriptions of spirituality in his study of comparative religions. The definition of spirituality is applicable to many religions and spiritual traditions. Klass shows how, by practising their professions well, mental health practitioners can help grieving parents along their spiritual journey. To describe the resolution of parental grief, the author explores the characteristics of spiritual life: connecting with transcendent reality, maintaining or revising a worldview, and affiliating with a community that shares grief’s pain and helps the parents as they transform their continuing bond with their deceased child.

Empty Cradle, Broken Heart, by Deborah L. Davis, Ph.D., Fulcrum Press, 1996 (second edition).

Empty Arms: Coping with Miscarriage, Stillbirth and Infant Death, by Sherokee Ilse, Wintergreen Press, 1990.

Coping With Grief Mal McKissock and Dianne McKissock

Websites:

SIDS AND KIDS

http://www.sidsandkids.org/ 

SANDS

http://www.sands.org.au/

GRIEF

http://www.grief.org.au/

COMPASSIONATE FRIENDS QLD

http://www.compassionatefriendsqld.org.au/

COMPASSIONATE FRIENDS VICTORIA

http://www.compassionatefriendsvictoria.org.au/

LINKS TO COMPASSIONATE FRIENDS NATIONWIDE

http://www.thecompassionatefriends.org.au/TCFAustralia.htm

http://www.recover-from-grief.com/parents-grief.html

http://www.athealth.com/consumer/disorders/parentalgrief.htm

http://grievingparents.com/Poems.htm