Day 9: If you have other children how has your loss affected them?

My Daughter is 4 years and 8 months old. 

We had spent the last 6 months of my pregnancy building up how great it would be to be a big sister. 

Telling her all the great things she would get to do with her, how she would be our big girl helper and how her baby sister would love her more an anyone else in the world. Eli was even practising her reading so that she could read to her baby sister when she was unsettled. 

She was one of the only people who knew the baby was a girl, she was so proud to have that secret and she kept it so well. (The only person she told was my friend's baby who was about 9 months old at the time- of course this was while we were in the car so my friend overheard by that is beside the point). 

She was excited.

Everyone we saw was greeted with "do you know I'm going to have a baby soon?" 

It was the hardest thing I have ever contemplated having to do, telling Eli that her baby sister wasn't going to be coming home with us after all. In the end Steve told her and afterward she ran into my arms crying "but I really really wanted a baby sister" I think my heart broke many many times that day, but this was one of the toughest blows. As mummies all we want to do is save our children from heartache and I felt like the worlds biggest heel for setting her up for such a catastrophic fall. 

The following day she came in to meet Melinda. Such a bittersweet moment, she was so careful with her and so accepting of her dark "lipstick" and purple "nail polish". We made sure that she understood that although she had been born Melinda was not going home with us. It's very hard to explain to a four year old who has no concept of death that even though she was "here" now it didn't mean she was here to stay. Eli had a listen to Melinda's heart with the stethoscope and we talked to her about what she couldn't hear and what that meant. And then she went off to play and draw pictures.

She is amazing and I think we adults could definitely learn a lot about grieving from children. 

She accepted it from the get go, she was (and still is at times) sad that Melinda isn't here, but that doesn't stop her from enjoying the things that have always given her pleasure. She doesn't have the problems of guilt that so many bereaved parents feel when they find themselves smiling or laughing after such a tragic loss. To Elianna it is perfectly acceptable to be happy about life and sad about Melinda at the same time. To Elianna it's ok to cry when your sad, there are no societal expectations that influence her behaviour and as a result I think she processes her grief much better than we do.

At first i was concerned that she hadnt processed what had happened at all or that it wasn't important to her.

 Now when she meets someone for the first time Elianna says to them "did you know my baby sister is in heaven" 

and I know that is her way of telling us that she loves Melinda, a little sign that her sister is still in the forefront of her mind. I wish I could have delivered her sister safely into her arms for years of cuddles and fights and whispered conversations. But I am so proud of the beautiful way she has of sharing her sister with the world.

We have had a lot of discussions about heaven lately. I can see her trying to process the idea that we are happy that Melinda is in heaven at the same time as we are sad that shes not with us. She has often asked when she gets to go, once even saying that she wished she had got to go to heaven straight away as a baby like Melinda and Jonathon did. I have explained (through teary eyes) that we don't get to decide when and who gets to go to heaven, that our job is to live our life as well as we can and know that one day we will meet there altogether again. 

We are so lucky to have Elianna, to remind us of our blessings, to remind us to stop and appreciate the little things in life and to remind us how to live without Melinda with sadness that is tempered by love and joy. 

Thank you God for Elianna, she is truly a blessing to this world 

Day 8: Do you feel you have more good days than bad ones?

I guess the answer to that question depends upon the time period under consideration. And the definition of a good day.

For the purposes of this blog post I am defining a good day as one where I can carry on my "normal life", involve myself in general chit chat, laugh at the children around me, take interest in life outside of my immediate sphere, offer support to my friends and generally appreciate all of the blessings i have received.

As for the time period in question:

If you mean have I had more good than bad days in the 83 days since Melinda died, then the answer would be a resounding no.

If you mean in the last fortnight... the answer would still be absolutely not.

If you mean the four weeks that came before the start of the last fortnight then I'd probably say the good and the bad days were about even. Maybe even the good days were starting to win

You see that's the thing about grief, I can be going along thinking I'm doing really well; I'm processing my loss, transcending it even. I'm thinking of my children with love instead of intense sadness, I'm no longer feeling a belly full of rage at the injustice of it etc etc... and then something happens. Something upsets the status quo and the wave of grief builds, washes me off my feet and then dumps me unceremoniously head first in the centre of the ocean. And once again I am lost at sea and it takes a while to get my bearings. Meanwhile I am desperately treading water trying to keep my chin above the water, slipping below the waves once or twice and wondering if i have the strength to make it through this. Eventually I realise I can just stop moving and float, allowing my friends and supports to bouy me up, Allowing the grief to gently rock me until i find i have found my bearings once more and can start swimming to shore. Once on shore I strike out full of purpose, but wary of the ocean ever at my heels. Until my confidence builds and once again I start to feel like I'm doing okay.

I am learning how to navigate my grief.
Sometimes I even manage to avoid being knocked off my feet at all. I can feel the ground starting to fall beneath my feet and I find away to re-adjust the load and step onto more solid ground.
Sometimes I can feel that the incoming wave is too big to fight and I need to allow the grief to take me along for the ride, not fighting it. Just letting all the feelings and emotions wash over me until the pull lessens and I head back to shore.

I am hopeful that in time, the periods of panicked flailing, where I am lost and struggling, will be spaced further apart and I can become friends with my grief, with the give an take that goes along with all good friendships.  

Day 7: Do you do something to honor your angel? If so what?

I honour Melinda and Jonathon by not giving up

I honour them by sharing their stories here on my blog and in my daily life

I honour them by playing with Eli and being the best mum I know how to be

Just like every other angel mum I know, I honour them by remembering them, by defending their memory from people who would have me be silent (or at least a little less loud). 

I honour the gifts they a have given me by appreciating them...

Since becoming an angel mum I have discovered that I am never alone, there is always someone who is willing to listen, to help, to talk- I honour this gift by involving myself in my support groups anf networks, by asking for help when I'm struggling and being open about my grief.

Since becoming an angel mum I have discovered that I live in a community that rallies around its members, offers practical support and emotional encouragement. I honour this gift by setting down roots here. We have bought a house not far from where we are living now and we are planning to remain here for quite some time. (Apologies to anyone who is surprised by this news, I'm sure you will understand why we have made this decision) 

Since becoming an angel mum I have discovered a deeper and more personal relationship with Christ. I have discovered that He hears me in my time of grief, he provides peace and comfort in response to prayer and he lends me his strength when I have none of my own. I honour this gift by involving myself in the worship team at church, by sharing my testimony (when appropriate- don't worry I'm not into bible bashing) and by leaning into his strength. 

Since becoming an angel mum I have discovered that I have a purpose, that all of the events in my life have moulded me into someone with a unique set of skills and experiences. I honour this gift by persuing my purpose. I have come to a deeper understanding that you only get one chance at life, and I'm not going to let fear and uncertainty hold me back from achieving my dreams. 

My children have given me so many gifts, more numerous to mention. I will honour them. 

Day 6: How do you answer the question of how many children you have?

How many children do you have? 

It's not a hard question...

And before I entered this reality of life after baby loss I would have answered simply

But now it has become a loaded question, just like so many other things that used to be so simple

 I have three children.

and I sometimes long to be able to answer it that directly, without the other person becoming awkward and uncomfortable and the conversation grinding to an awkward halt. But that's not the way it works in society. Death makes people uncomfortable (heck it makes me uncomfortable), talking about the dead is weird, attention seeking and just not done. And because its not done we don't know how to do it without it being weird... So we don't do it. And the cycle perpetuates. 

Sometimes if its a person I'm unlikely to ever meet again and there is no need for them to have the whole story I do have the opportunity to answer so simply. Three. I love saying three, it makes me heart sing to hear those words out loud.

Sometimes if its someone that I know will understand (like mums I meet at the SIDS and kids gatherings, or online in my support groups) I also get to answer three without hesitation. Two angels and one living child, and I know they understand, and it isn't weird and they understand why I say it the way I do.

And then there are times when it feels necessary to say less than three. 

If a government or other official department is asking obviously it would become confusing to include Melinda and Jonathon, there's no space to acknowledge deceased family members because like it or not they are not relevant. Only one.

If the person asking is of a medical background I have learnt to answer two. Because to them my son doesn't count. Because, since he was born before 20 weeks, he is considered a miscarried pregnancy, not a baby lost. I have two but my second daughter was stillborn. Meanwhile that voice in my head asks what about Jonathon? 

When the others mums at kinder ask or at school next year I will probably say only the one even as all the while my heart screams three, I have three! Because its sometimes just too hard to go into it, too much to ask from a complete or virtual stranger to compute my loss and respond with tact. Too hard to field those eyes that won't quite meet mine once they know, those mums who will no longer catch my eye because they don't know what to say. Too hard to be known as that person. But I will walk away with shame in my heart, for denying my children. 

I usually avoid asking that question of anybody. For two reasons, firstly I don't want to place someone in a situation where they may feel they have to deny their child, and secondly, maybe they won't ask me if I don't ask them. But by the same token this doesn't allow for that transcendent joy of publicly  acknowledging and sharing your babies existence.

I don't know what to do to make that question easier for both the asker and for me... I've often thought I should practise a response in the mirror. 

Them: how many children do you have?

Me: three, Elianna who is four, Melinda who was stillborn at full term in July this year, and Jonathon who we lost half way through our pregnancy in 2011

 But where I come unstuck is after that.

 Sometimes people say "sorry to hear that" and I (in my attempt to prevent the awkward moment arriving) say "it's ok". When clearly it isn't ok that they're not here to be counted among my live children. And then I feel like crap for not acknowledging how much their not being here has affected me. I need to think of a better response to that. (Feel free to email me if you have any suggestions)

Sometimes the awkwardness is avoided by a comment from the asker such as "those are beautiful names"  or a similar deflection from the topic. (Also please feel free to comment or email me if you have any suggestions for other ways to respond to the conversation without making it awkward, maybe we can learn together)

Sometimes it provides an opportunity (and I'm surprised at how often this happens) for the asker to tell me about their own angels, which is a lovely moment. And this is one reason I know i shouldn't avoid this conversation. Who knows when the last time the asker has been able to freely talk about their experiences. I shouldn't deny them that opportunity purely in an attempt to avoid possible awkwardness. 

Maybe in the years to come I'll find this question easier to answer, easier to forgive myself for the times when I answer less than three, and easier to redirect the awkwardness into a positive interaction for both parties involved. 

                           

Day 5: Do you ever get subtle reminders of your angel(s)? If so what are they?

The thing about being an angel mum is that in many ways it is no different to being a mother to a living child. 

When you wake in the morning the first thing you think about is your baby 

When you are out and about without them you feel as if something is missing 

You find it difficult to get to sleep and often wake throughout the night 

You look at your body in the mirror and catalog the ravages of pregnancy 

And 

You love your baby with all of your heart and you would do anything to protect them 

Once a mum you are always a mum, 

Being Elianna, Melinda and Jonathon's mother is an integral part of who I am. I could no more forget one of my children than I could forget that i have legs. I think about them every moment of every day. Even if its only in the back of my mind, They are there, influencing my decisions and my behavior. And sometimes something will occur that will suddenly bring them to the forefront of my mind and I am awash with precious memories.

Some reminders are subtle, others not so much. Obviously seeing or holding babies, hearing birth stories and watching friends babies grow and develop causes my breath to catch in my throat and brings to mind the absence of my babies and loss of the future i had hoped for.  But a few of the more subtle things that particularly bring my angels to mind are these...

A pregnant mother absent mindedly caressing her bump.

Reminds me of when my children were safe inside of me and that beautiful feeling of hope and wonder at the creation of new life. That little smile that said I was waiting on the most wonderful surprise anyone can ever receive, meeting a brand new little person complete with their own personality that you would watch develop over the years. Would they like beetroot like me? or would they regard it with horrified disdain like their father. would they prefer to snuggle and read or run and climb, or maybe both? There's a good reason many pregnant women are smug, its a pretty cool gig.  

A rainbow lights the sky

Rainbows are almost miraculous to me and they remind me of my angels for two reasons.

1)  Beautiful spectres that appear only when the conditions are just right, Rainbows stay for but a moment and then disappear as quickly as they come. In angel mum circles a baby who is born after the loss of a baby is known as a rainbow baby. This is as a recognition that the beauty of the rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm or suggest that the family are no longer dealing with the aftermath, rather that something beautiful and full of light has appeared. Storm clouds may still gather but the rainbow provides a measure of balance and hope.

As Jonathon's little sister, Melinda is my rainbow baby. and for a while after her death I wondered if i could still refer to her as a rainbow baby. But the sentiment is still appropriate. While she lived inside of me she did bring hope and light into our life, and since her arrival we have been filled with such love that to strip her of the title of rainbow baby seems so very wrong. She is my rainbow in the sky, and every time i see one i am reminded of her.

2) In the bible God's promises to Noah are indicated by the appearance of a rainbow. Seeing a rainbow has always been a somewhat spiritual experience for me. Perhaps  having been raised in the church from a young age, attending Sunday school since i could walk and talk, the bible stories are woven into my psyche. Now whenever catch sight of a rainbow I think of the promises of God, and I know that I will see my Melinda and my Jonathon in Heaven. One day.

Butterflies

There's something about butterflies that draw in angel mums and make us think of our children.

Perhaps it is in the encounter, they flit into our space for but a moment and then as elusive as they arrived they are off again exploring new worlds; finding new adventures. Perhaps it is in their beauty, metamorphosed from such a common looking grub, they are truly one of the masterpieces of the natural world. Or perhaps it is in the similarities of their life; growing as a caterpillar, restricted within a chrysalis, before emerging and taking flight. Yet for all their beauty and miraculous transformation they live such a short time, making each moment with them that much more special. Or maybe its in all of these things and more. Either way,  butterflies remind me of Melinda and never fail to bring a smile to my face

Flowers

Something in the delicate nature of a new bloom, its beautiful fragility and soft scent brings to mind everything that is beautiful about babies. Perhaps because we are coming into spring I find the emerging blooms poetic and inspiring. In many cases the trees in my garden were dormant when Melinda was born. Now at the same time as I am walking a path of remembrance and love and personal growth, the warmer weather begins to tease out their buds and rich green foliage. I watch the buds appear and each day I wait for the magical moment when they will open. As each flower emerges i find myself celebrating their appearance, remembering my babies, the instant love we felt upon learning of their existence and of how their lives have caused such love and purpose to bloom in me   

For some reason I struggled to write this post today. I'm still not entirely happy with it but I don't know what is "wrong". I guess it is possible that the grief is all a bit to fresh for me to really notice subtle reminders. Because at the moment my whole life revolves around my babies, everything reminds me of them i miss them with my whole self every moment of every day. They are always at the forefront of my mind. I don't actively notice "reminders"because i am never not remembering them. I'm told that over time this will change and then i presume the subtle reminders will be more noticeable in their isolation (if that even makes sense). Nevertheless i have tried to answer as honestly as i can and continue to shed some light on where I am at the moment.       

 

Day 4: Through your grief process what has kept you going?

There are a number of things I would attribute to motivating me to survive this.

Because if I'm completely honest there most definitely was a time when I truly didn't think I had it in me to take another breath,  I knew neither how to live through this tragedy and nor did i want too. Standing in the shower waiting for my baby to kick and knowing suddenly that she wasn't going to and I would have to find a way to live this nightmare again, the journey I had been on since Jonathon grew his wings flashed through my head and suddenly I was exhausted beyond measure, I couldnt do that again. I barely made it through last time. God i dont want to do this again

A lot of people have told me they are surprised with my strength and i have to say, I certainly don't feel strong. Every day is another day I had planned to spend with my baby and for a moment on waking it hardly seems worth it to get out of bed since she isnt here. But it is worth it. For a number of reasons...

1) This precious little (big) girl

Elianna is a light in our world. She teaches me so much (about compromise and negotiation mostly) but also about enjoying the little things in life, trusting God and remembering Melinda and Jonathon with love rather than sadness. She makes me smile, she makes me laugh (she also makes me sigh and growl sometimes but this is meant to be positive) and she deserves to have a mummy who is not just alive but is present in her life. I was called to be her mummy and she was placed into my care to raise and encourage. And I am so proud of the little girl she has become. 

2) This precious baby girl

Great grief is the flip side of great love. My heart is full with love for my baby. That does not go away just because she has. I am proud of her, and I am so grateful I got to have her in my arms even if just for those briefest of days. I am determined that her legacy will not be that i am broken, that i am made weaker or that i miss her too much to breath. For that does not reflect the change she has made in me. My love for her makes me stronger, her legacy will be that she has changed the world, one heart at a time. and that starts with Getting out of bed each morning, and sharing her story in all that i do. 

3) My family and friends (i wish i had a photo of all of them together... but Im thinking it wouldn't fit on the screen ;). I've said it before and I'll say it again for good measure. You cannot possible underestimate the power of friendship and family. I made a new friend since Melinda died, another Angel Mum who's daughter Clementine joined Melinda in heaven a few days later. She summed it up for me very eloquently  "social support is necessary for survival - people think it is air and food but it is actually social support" and i agree completely. 

4) This will come as no surprise but my faith is the fourth thing that keeps me going (I probably should have listed it first... but you know... its the big finish ;). My story is not over yet and because my story continues Melinda and Jonathon are woven into the fabric of my life. Melinda's passing has deepened my faith in a way that has surprised me. God speaks into my heart and my life daily, reminding me of the person he has designed me to be and the promises he has in store. I know that this experience will bring about changes and have effects that i cannot even imagine... and I'm not getting of this ride until i reach the final destination. 

Day 3: Through your grief process who has been your "rock"?

Grieving a baby is incredibly isolating.

As a general statement its no-one's fault, its just such an incredible tragedy and such a shocking absence that everyone is impacted by the ripples. Everyone needs to re-adjust their world-view. Come to the understanding that the world isn't fair; there is no "deserving" or justice, it just IS. And while everyone adjusts to that, they are watching our world fall apart and powerless to do anything to fix it. And there is actually nothing anyone can really "do" to ease the burden of our baby's absence. Meals are good, cards, gifts and acts of remembrance all penetrate the cloud of grief and warm the heart. Sitting by our side holding our hand means a lot.

But nothing makes it better.

And some people find it hard to accept that, hard to work with the fact that it is exhausting and draining and everything they do makes no visible difference to how we are feeling. Its disheartening and I get that.
But the thing is,  the accumulation of all these acts do make a difference. Collectively; the therapy, the phone calls, messages, posts, cards, flowers, gifts, hugs, coffees and trips out make a difference, knowing that Melinda will live on in the hearts of our friends and our friend's friends makes the world of difference.

Our support network has been one of the best I have come across. I am a member of an online group of beautiful and powerfully loving ladies, fellow angel mums who came alongside me in my grief and continue to reach out and support me everyday, remembering Melinda with me and just understanding what this journey means. In real life our everyday support here at ground zero has been phenomenal. Headed up by a beautiful best friend who has sacrificed so very much to be there for us, for me, everyday lending me the physical and emotional support I need, and that sacrifice does not go un-noticed or un-appreciated. But ultimately I believe that no one person can be or should be a Rock. It is too much to ask of someone. Especially someone who is also grieving the loss of a friend and the lighthearted days of the past, and grieving the loss of a baby they were looking forward to seeing grow and spoiling and loving (and handing back to mum when she had a pooey nappy).

My husband has been my amazing leaning post, he has been inspiring in his strength and love for us. With open arms we cry together, we shake our heads in disbelief that this has happened. To us. We look forward to the future together. We work together to make our three children proud, and we are a united team. We are stronger for living through this together. I know that we can get through anything if we only have each other.

But even he isn't my rock.

No. My Rock? My Solid Foundation. Is someone who can shoulder the load of my grief, my anger, my pain and my sadness. Someone who loves me, no matter how unlovable I can be at times. Someone who mourns with me but carries me in his arms all the same. Some whose plan for me is confusing at times (especially now) but who promises me Joy and healing and amazing miracles. Someone who has given me the strength to get through each day. to stand proud, to forgive, to understand, to be compassionate. To support others on this journey with me. Someone who gave me the amazing gift of my beautiful rainbow daughter Melinda, a light in this dark time. A loving heavenly Father who offers me the use of His strength though mine has failed. I truly believe that Hope is one of the most powerful emotions we can experience, but that's what my Faith in God gives me. Hope. Hope keeps me alive.

Day 2: Tell us about your child. As much or as little as you like. Names, birthdays, stats.

I have three children

Elianna Faith was born in Newcastle, NSW (Australia) at 5:08 pm on the 12th of February 2009.
she was 9lbs and 59(! yes thats not a typo)cm long. 12 days "overdue", she arrived quickly with just a 2 hour labour from when my waters broke (and I realised I was in labour) until I was holding her in my arms. Her arrival made me feel like the luckiest person in the world. She is now 4 years 7 months old... she is funny, insightful, sensitive and intelligent. Being a stay at home mum and spending this time with her has been an absolute gift and she still makes me feel like the luckiest person alive.
Elianna's name means "God has answered" we selected it to reflect both of our mother's names (Dianne and Anne) and the name of a dear friend of mine who passed away when I was in my early twenties, Elizabeth. when we read the name's meaning and given the battle we had to fall pregnant and keep her, it seemed to be the perfect fit. God has answered Faith.... and he always does.

Jonathon Fulton was born sleeping on the 28th of May 2011 at sunshine Hospital in Melbourne, VIC. I was 17 weeks and 6 days pregnant. We discovered at our Morphology scan that he was no longer with us.  I was worried while I was in labour with him that his appearance may have been alarming given that his heart had stopped beating a number of days previous. I didnt want my memories of him to be tarnished by fear but i also wanted to be sure I wouldn't have cause to regret not seeing him. Because you only get one chance. but I needn't have worried. He weighed no more than an apple and would fit into my hand, and he was the most handsome little boy i had ever seen. His legs and the curve of his bottom was like a miniature copy of Elianna. His fingers long and delicate and his eyes big and blue. He was a stunner, my boy. My favourite photo we have of him shows him "looking" over the head of the little blue teddy he was given and he almost looks as cheeky as i imagine he would have been if he had been allowed to stay here on earth.
Jonathon was named for Steve's Uncle John and given the family middle name of Fulton, traditionally gifted to the first born son. Initially he was to be named Samuel John but when he was born we knew he was Jonathon. Jonathon means "gift of God" and indeed he was that. A tiny gift from heaven.

Melinda Grace was born into heaven on at Werribee Mercy hospital, in Melbourne VIC, on the 17th of July 2013 I had awoken to the sense that something was wrong at 3am that morning and when we were unable to find her heartbeat at home we went straight to the hospital where it was confirmed that our daring girl had died. Induced with the first lot of gels just after 9am and waters broken shortly before 6pm, after a relatively short but intense labour, Melinda entered this world silently at 8:47pm. Melinda weighed 3.57kg (7lbs 15oz) and was 54cm long. Words cannot describe the beauty of our littlest angel. Nor the devastation we felt and feel that she is no longer with us.
we struggled a lot to find a name for our princess. I was determined to pick a name early on, once we found out we were having another girl. i thought it would help me bond, but Steve and I couldn't decide upon a name that we both loved. We had a shortlist of 57 names that we "liked" but none were perfect although i was fairly set on the middle name Hope. I started to work from the meaning I wanted to convey in her name. Sentiments such as:
beautiful music
precious little gift
healing and peace
rainbows
Melinda was decided upon as an amalgamation of the names Melody (beautiful music) and Linda (soft, beautiful and tender). Grace emerged as a middle name subsequent to Hope, as we felt Hope was something anyone could feel and would not necessarily result in happiness but Grace was a wonderful gift from God which cannot be earned but if full of promise and love. I was a little concerned because i didn't want her to have the nickname Mel, but we agreed on promoting the nickname "Mindy". I miss her.

Day 1: Who are you? Share as little or as much about you in general.

I am Kath
I am 30 years old and I live in Melbourne, Australia

I am here for a purpose, I know that God has a plan for my life and all of the heartache will not have been in vain
I am a mummy to three beautiful children, only one of whom i have the privilege of raising here on earth
I am fiercely protective of my family, be they related by blood or by choice.
I care too much about what the rest of the world thinks
I wear my heart on my sleeve and it is easily bruised and yet I would hate to hide it in order to protect it because it is also easily filled with love
I cry  A LOT,

I'm an introvert,
I consider things very carefully before I write them down. I want to be sure that I only write the full and unvarnished truth, no matter how hard.
When I say I'm going to do something, I will move heaven and earth to make sure I get it done. Its because of this that I will often hesitate before committing myself to something. I hate it when I cant back it up.

I want more than anything for the people in this world to realise how important it is to care for one another, how nothing else really matters. How a single hug can make someone feel like a million bucks and a withering glare the complete opposite. We don't exist in isolation, we live in communities and life would be so much nicer if we remembered it more often.

Who are you?

 

October is International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

October is Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss Awareness Month. I am joining many other women who have suffered loss in a 31-day blog challenge (sorry I don't know the original link i read about it on a forum i am a member of). If you're a mom to an angel baby and would like to join, please feel welcome to do so:

These are the suggested blog posts:

Day 1: Who are you? Share as little or as much about you in general.
Day 2: Tell us about your child. As much or as little as you like. Names, birthdays, stats.
Day 3: Through your grief process who has been your "rock"?
Day 4: Through your grief process what has kept you going?
Day 5: Do you ever get subtle reminds of your angel(s)? If so what what are they?
Day 6: How do you answer the question of how many children you have?
Day 7: Do you do something to honor your angel? If so what?
Day 8: Do you feel you have more good days than bad ones?
Day 9: If you have other children how has your loss affected them? If you don't other children how has your loss affected your relationship with your partner?
Day 10: If you have Rainbows or older children do they know and remember your angel(s)?
Day 11: It is said that Father's and Mother's grieve differently. Do you feel this is true with your angel's father?
Day 12: How has the rest of your family dealt with your loss?
Day 13: Does anyone else besides you, speak your child's name?
Day 14: What have you done to preserve your child's memories or make new memories of your angel.
Day 15: Today is Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Awareness Day. What are you doing today?
Day 16: Do you take time for yourself?
Day 17: Do you feel your child is watching over you?
Day 18: Have you found something that puts you at peace?
Day 19: What is your happiest memory of your child(ren)?
Day 20: If you have anger, what are you most angry about?
Day 21: Is there something about your child(ren) that brings a smile to your face?
Day 22: Do you have a song or songs that make you think of your child(ren)
Day 23: Besides changing the outcome, what is one thing you would have done differently?
Day 24: On Birthday's, Diagnosis Day's, Anniversaries of Passing. Do you prepare for them?
Day 25: On Birthday's, Diagnosis Day's, Anniversaries of Passing. How do you handle them?
Day 26: On a scale of 1 to 10 rate your day today and why?
Day 27: Share a picture.
Day 28: Have you ever corrected or wish you corrected someone about your loss?
Day 29: What are your beliefs as far as where you think your child(ren) is/are. Will you see each other again?
Day 30: How are your preparing for the end of the year? (ie: Holiday's and starting a new year)
Day 31: Do you feel like 31 days has helped you open up more about your child(ren) and your grief?

I am also going to attempt Carly Marie's Project Heal. A photo a day for the month of October.

Please read along with me and share as you see fit, or link me to your own blog if you are taking part.
Together we can hep break the silence surrounding pregnancy and infant loss, so that maybe one day bereaved families wont have to grieve behind closed doors

The article I wanted to write for the paper

8 weeks ago the Wyndham Leader ran a story about our family and the bears donated to the hospital in memory of our daughter. I had contacted the paper directly to request they help me to pass on my heartfelt gratitude to the community in which we live. While pleased that the bears and the sibling bear program at the hospital was receiving attention i was disappointed when the story did not really convey the depth of our appreciation to the Point Cook community.... this is the story i wanted to write...

Ten weeks ago my family suffered the tragic loss of our daughter Melinda Grace Currie who was stillborn at 38weeks and 5 days, at Werribee Mercy Hospital. The events that followed have been nothing short of humbling and we would like to thank the community of Point Cook and surrounds for their encouragement, love and support. 

At 3:30am Wednesday morning the 17th of July I woke up and, as i had countless nights previously (as you may know this is nothing unusual for a pregnant woman and in fact had been a common occurrence for the last 10 or so weeks) , I lay in my my bed waiting to feel little flutters and kicks before rolling over and going back to sleep. But they never came. At first I tried to ignore the feeling of dread, afterall we had been in the hospital the evening before for a quick check of bub as I had been feeling anxious, She was perfectly fine and we had headed home for a normal evening together as a family. But when in the dark that morning I didn't feel any movements for over an hour I began to panic. Trying all the tricks I knew to make her move, nothing worked and when in a panic we arrived at the hospital around 6am, our sleepy 4 year old daughter in tow, we were absolutely devastated to discover that there was no heartbeat, our precious daughter had left us. What followed was truly the hardest day of our lives. After losing our son 2 years ago at 18 weeks pregnant (2 weeks after our relocation to melbourne) we had finally come to believe we would bring Melinda home, we thought we were safe with this our precious baby girl. It was a crippling blow.

Upon hearing the news of Melinda's passing one of our friends from Lightpoint church posted of her shock and devastation in one of the Point Cook mothers groups on Facebook. Quickly word passed of our loss and the community responded with open hearts. Messages of love and support filled the mums pages, meal rosters were organised, tears were shed for our angel, an online event was organised to coordinate donations and suggestions. Overnight a community was united in love for our precious girl. 

Melinda was born sleeping at 8:45pm on Wednesday night (17th July) she weighed 3.57kg and was a perfect 52.5cm long. With the tender care and support of four beautiful midwives, over the next 2 days we spent some time with our stunningly beautiful girl. Soaking in her features and trying to remember every single detail of her. During our stay a volunteer from the organisation Heartfelt arrived to take some photos of us and Melinda, we will cherish these photos forever (if you would like to see them we are happy to share, they are tastefully taken and absolutely beautiful) When we left the hospital on the Friday morning our arms were empty and our hearts broken. 

We arrived home to a house full of flowers, a pantry and fridge full of groceries and many messages of love. That night the first of many meals arrived on our doorstep ready to eat. I had never met the beautiful lady who provided this meal and offered her heartfelt sympathies via my mum who answered the door. Every afternoon for nearly four weeks without fail a meal arrived at around 5:30pm cooked with love by a stranger (and often paid for by a different stranger as I've been told). When the community learnt we needed our yard tended to a local gardening business (grassmasters) volunteered to help. The owner of this business and his wife worked tirelessly for 4 hours to tame our vegetation. We were overwhelmed by their generosity. Over the coming days as we learnt the dance of grief no parent should ever have to know our every need as tended to. The mothers groups organised activities and gifts for our 4 year old daughter Elianna. A local hairdresser Leanne Cassar donated her time and skills to cut locks of hair from each of our heads to place in with our baby when we said goodbye. She also returned on the day of the memorial to do my hair as I was too distraught to contemplate it.

Melinda's farewell service was held last friday the 26th july (on her due date) at Tobin Brothers Chapel in synnot st Werribee. A talented local photographer and friend, Jenna, donated her time and skills to help us record Melinda's memorial. We asked people to dress in colour and bring a bear in place of flowers. The chapel was as full as our hearts when we saw the community's response. There were so many people there that we had never met, as well as names I recognised and some of Elianna's kindergarten friends and their mums, Women with whom I had exchanged pleasantries in the hallway at Featherbrook kindergarten and excitedly updated on my pregnancy progress. All came to lend their support or a shoulder and say goodbye to our most loved and wanted princess. Natalie Holt from "Lets Celebrate" party supplies at point cook donated bunches of helium balloons for release and the mothers of point cook organised a pair of doves for our daughter Elianna to release as Melinda was finally driven away. 

After the service I was presented with a card made by a fellow mum and filled with messages of love from some of the mums in point cook who had donated time, money or resources to help ease our heavy hearts. These same mums are organising to purchase a piece of memorial jewellery for my husband so he may always carry something of Melinda's with him and have kindly donated a voucher for Elianna to build-a-bear in memory of her little sister. (Photo by Keith Meure)

The 100 bears that were brought to the service and the many more that have arrived at our house and are on their way here in the coming days will be donated to Werribee Mercy Hospital as "sibling bears", Melinda and Elianna's gifts to the big brothers and sisters who will not get to bring their longed for babies home from the hospital. It is our hope that no sibling will ever leave Werribee hospital with arms as empty as ours. Elianna was given a sibling bear by our midwives and has kept it safe and cuddled it every night since. It cannot ever fill the hole created by Melinda's absence but certainly offers her some comfort in this confusing and sad time.

(Photo by Steve Currie)

It is hard to imagine how life continues to carry on as normal after such an enormous loss. We will always love and miss our baby girl. My heart feels heavy with grief and longing, and yet at the same time is lifted up by the love we have felt from this community. We are quiet people. Not overly involved in the community, simply a by-product of a busy life. Since relocating here from Newcastle (NSW) 2 years ago we have often questioned the wisdom of our decision to move so far from all of our family and support networks. But after the events of the last couple of weeks we have realised Point Cook is our home. Community is what you make of it and with the loving souls of the Point Cook mums and the overwhelming support from the members of Lightpoint church we are pretty sure we've happened upon the best community ever. We are so full of thanks for each and every person who has kept us in their thoughts and prayers and promised to hold Melinda in their hearts forever

Sincerely Kath, Steve and Elianna Currie.

Losing Friends, finding me...

On Saturday I lost a friend.
To be fair its probably been a while coming given her parting words to me were "you just don't seem to have time for anyone but Lisa anymore." That hurt. One thing I pride myself on is being a good friend and being there for my friends. Normally this kind of comment would have me rushing to fix things and smooth things over with the injured party. I hate the thought that someone doesn't like me, it sits in that uncomfortable place under my ribs until I do something about it. But I've come to accept that sometimes it isn't about me. its about them and what they have going on. All I need to do is stay true to myself, true to my beliefs and my needs and I will be okay. Just another lesson from my little angel  

Still it hurt to lose a friend. As usual I thought about it from her point of view for a moment. Although she came in to meet Melinda at the hospital, I haven't seen or spoken to her in person since that day 9 and a half weeks ago. There are some moderately big things going on in her life at the moment, including an illness in the family and a resulting move interstate that I am aware she doesn't really want to make. She probably needed a friend to talk to in the past few weeks, and normally I would have reached out to her. But I've been a bit busy mourning my beautiful daughter. And that is okay. I pray that someone will come forward to help her as she needs it, but I accept that it cannot be me at this time.  

What stuck with me in the days since is the terrible feeling that perhaps more of my friends could be feeling this way. I have spoken to other Angel mums and I have discovered that this is a common complaint from friends after an undefined period of time has passed since the loss of their child. Apparently grief has an expiry date?? Thankfully I am blessed to be loved by an amazing group of friends both online and IRL who support me unconditionally, who have allowed my grief to proceed organically and are simply there with a hug or a thoughtful message... But i am aware that there are some friends who cannot and will not ever understand. That they may be feeling neglected or feel that I don't rate them as important enough to spend time with or to answer the phone to. And that is so far from the truth, but I also understand that without me talking about it and sharing how I am feeling that they will never know that.

I realise that from the outside looking in, at photos on Facebook, at conversations with some people... I may look like I'm okay. Like everything is back to normal. Yes, there are photos of me smiling. Yes, I have laughed in the last 9 weeks. Yes I am getting out running and cycling and generally taking an interest in my health again. But No, I am far from okay. I am however coping .

Everytime I see another baby and my mind flashes to Melinda and what we would be doing now... I make the decision to cope, to smile and to remember the hope a new baby brings... no matter how much that hurts.
Everytime I spend time with pregnant friends and laugh with them and support and encourage them in the face of their very real worries... I make the decision to cope and to put aside my own feelings to be there in this time of need (especially since i feel responsible for a lot of the worry)
Everytime I walk past Melinda's fully set up nursery and feel the urge to sit in there for hours sobbing at the injustice of it all.... I make the decision to cope. To go on living.

And often the decision isn't an easy one. Often its just too hard to keep coping ALL THE TIME and sometimes i break. i cry, i rage, i throw things, i hibernate inside and ignore texts and phone calls. But then i make that decision in honour of my babies in heaven... the decision to cope. Melinda and Jonathon are not here, but by living my life to the fullest they will live on in my every footstep, in every smile or laugh, every single time i make the decision to live I will honour them.

Losing Melinda has been impossbly hard but it has shown me what is important in life, the things i cannot live without... My family, My friends and most of all My Faith.
Faith in a loving Father in heaven who has amazing plans for my life. Who is already using my love for my daughter and this pain I am experiencing to make big changes in my life, to help me see who i am and who i want to be, to give me purpose again. That still small voice inside that says, don't give up, My promise awaits you...

...stay tuned I'm going to do great things through He who strengthens me...
but while i am not giving up there are and will still be times that i fall, stumbling over my grief, stuck in the whys? and hows? overcome by the sadness of the empty pram, the silence in the night. However, I am determined to keep getting up again. Determined to leave a legacy that my children will be proud of


So to my friends whose phone calls i have not answered.
To my friends whose texts i haven't replied to
To everyone who sent a card of sympathy or support
To everyone who came to the funeral and brought a bear for the sibling bears program
I am sorry I have not answered your calls or replied to your messages or sent the thank you cards i keep meaning to write. I appreciate you and I thank you for thinking of me and reaching out to say you are there
Please be patient with me. I'm just trying to work out how this life works without my baby here. I promise i will keep fighting and surviving and one day i will answer that phone.

An exclusive Club no-one wants to join.

So here we are again,

Somehow, unbelievably we are once again staring down the unimaginably long and lonely road of coming to terms with the emptiness that comes with being just three again. where once three respresented "team Currie" the three amigos, complete in our happiness; now three is a reminder of what was once four and could have been five.

I now have more children in heaven than on earth, and that makes me so very sad. no wonder my life feels so out of balance.

When we lost Jonathon at 17 weeks it was an absolute shock. We had never contemplated that we might lose him once we had safely made it past the "safety point" of the 14 week scan. I remember what hurt the most was the silence from those whom I loved, who were so concerned with possibly saying the wrong thing that they elected to remain silent rather than risk hurting us further. What they failed to see was that nothing could make the pain worse and in fact their silence was deafening.

When we fell pregnant with Melinda we were acutely aware that there was no safe zone. I even refused to make any purchases until after 36 weeks; when we bought the cot mattress and set up her room. I know that my friends and family hoped and prayed along with us that we would get our "happy ending" this time. I'm fairly sure once we reached term everyone believed it was a done deal, we were home and hosed! Evidently that was not to be, and one day i will share Melinda's story with you all here on my blog... just not yet, I want to make sure i get it perfect. What has struck me this time is not the silence; my friends have been amazing, particulalry a select few who have sent me constant messages of support, sent me pins on pinterest, emails of love and encouragement and cards of empathy and warmth. Melinda has touched so many people in so many ways, more than i will ever know as her life and death sends shockwaves in communities far from us. i know that she will live on in the hearts of so many and will always be remembered in many small acts everyday.

No, rather than the silence, what has struck me so hard this time is the loneliness. Once again i have been handed a membership card to this most exclusive of clubs. To be an angel mummy twice over, in this way, is just unbelieveable to me. i still cannot really comprehend what has happened, and the hows and whys are far out of reach. i feel so lost and alone in this great sea of life, Im always concerned that when i post something on facebook i risk over stepping the bounds of what is socially accepted, i wish there was a way that i could know that people understand what this is like, and could continue to accept and respect this journey we are one. Even if its just so that when this happens again (which it will, 1 in 200 births end this way, inevitably someone else will suffer this agonising loss) people will be able to offer compassion and understanding to the grief-stricken family, long after the time period that society deems sufficient for mourning.

One morning a few weeks ago I was feeling particularly alone and bereft; I felt that no-one understood and that eventually people would get sick of me posting and talking about Melinda and then she would be forgotten. I was lost that morning in a sea of tears and fear about the future and i cried out to God for comfort. i didnt know how I could go on for the rest of the years of my life feeling this alone when i recieved a message from a dear friend from our church in Newcastle. Sheree's words struck me to my core. Here was the truth written in black and white. and with her permission id like to share it with you.

The Space Between

Where are you in the Space Between?
What is between the Knowing and Believing?
One day is hope and expectation, all promise, and the next is devastation and the bleak unreality of absence.
It can’t be true. A world with such a black hole cannot be.
The rip is not just of your heart, but in the nature of reality itself, and such a gaping wound cannot exist.
 And yet you know it does. It sucks all light, all life towards itself.
But still you don’t believe. You can’t believe.

You’ve touched the tiny perfect nails, held your cheek to perfect lips, and kissed the softly perfect brow.
You’ve held the little person that you’ll never get to know.
How can you say goodbye to all the might-have-beens? All the possibilities of yesterday, the plans, the musings: will this small one grow to be quiet, boisterous, bookish, loud, sporty, arty, funny, sweet? How can you bear not knowing? How have all tomorrows, in a blink, been swept away?

So long waiting, so long hoping, with anticipation building up to joy, so very, very close. And then – gone.
In your arms, but never to gaze into your eyes, never to smile and gurgle and laugh. In your arms, but so soon to be taken from them forever.
How can anyone believe this thing is real? To believe it is a travesty, a crime against everything that’s right. It makes no sense; a cruel mistake of God. Why would a tiny life be created, nurtured and loved, only to be snatched away before the first breath?

And so there is the Space Between.

It begins the moment that you Know.
 You try to push away the Knowing, but that tiny precious body without life cannot be pushed away.
But as you kiss that cherished little cheek for one last time and walk away, you know you don’t Believe.
It isn’t really true and you’ll wake up and those treasured eyes will open and the chest will rise and fall, and those tomorrows that were stolen will be poured back like a stream into a parched and thirsty land.
The world flows on around you. You’re drifting through a semblance of your days, but it’s really just your shadow filling in, fooling others that you’re there.

For you’re wandering in the Space Between, in twisting paths and rocky trails, with Knowing far behind and Believing far ahead, and the universe is made up of your pain.
No signposts there to show, ‘This is the way, back into life’.
There are only those who walk beside, whose tears mingle with yours, who hold your hand, the anchors while you roam and float and drift. Only those who never let you go, who wait with patience, month on month, until one day another you emerges. But an older, sadder you.
Because, though happiness may come, a piece of your heart’s joy and life will always stay with the child that you never got to know.

Thank you Sheree for understanding, for taking the time and effort to write it down, and for allowing me to share it here. I wish no-one understood, i wish i didnt have to expose so many of my friend and family to this heartbraking sadness.

Most of all i wish you were here Melinda Grace Currie. I. Love. You.

You are stronger (Hillsong United) and I thank God for that

When my world came cashing down around me and I realised I would have to survive the loss of another child I thought I could not possibly go on... And then this song filled my mind in 5.1 surround sound. Sitting on the bed with the gel still on my stomach and the knowledge that she was gone, the room was dark and we were alone and I just had to sing this song, through my tears the words come out " you are stronger" and I felt an easing of my mind, my grief was there but it was no longer paralysing. I knew God was telling me that he had this, he would be my strength and I would survive, that he loved me and his love was big enough to hold me up through this 

There is love that came for us

Humbled to a sinner's cross

You broke my shame and sinfulness

You rose again victorious

Faithfulness none can deny

Through the storm and through the fire

There is truth that sets me free

Jesus Christ who lives in me

You are stronger, You are stronger

Sin is broken, You have saved me

It is written, Christ is risen

Jesus You are Lord of all

No beginning and no end

You're my hope and my defence 

You came to seek and save the lost

You paid it all upon the cross

You are stronger, You are stronger

Sin is broken, You have saved me

It is written, Christ is risen

Jesus You are Lord of all

There is none

So let Your name be lifted higher

Be lifted higher, be lifted higher

So let Your name be lifted higher

Be lifted higher, be lifted higher

So let Your name be lifted higher

Be lifted higher, be lifted higher

So let Your name be lifted higher

Be lifted higher, be lifted higher

You are stronger, You are stronger

Sin is broken, You have saved me

It is written, Christ is risen

Jesus You are Lord of all

You are stronger, You are stronger

Sin is broken, You have saved me

It is written, Christ is risen

Jesus you are lord of all 

Happy Birthday?

 A letter to my son Jonathon.

 
Well my darling baby boy, its now been two years since i last held you and said goodbye. Those years have at times flown by and at other times passed by agonisingly slowly. Every day I think of you and wonder what you are doing. I picture you playing in the clouds with the rest of your angel friends, watching down on us and sending us gifts and signs.Your life has had an incredible impact in so many ways, we love deeper, feel stronger and appreciate the moments for what they are so much more than ever before. Your legacy is one of growth through pain; your death the catalyst for the storm; but your life was the shelter in that storm until finally the storm begins to pass and we now look forward to the rainbow at the end.
I want to thank you for the gift of life you gave to us on what should have been your first birthday last year. As your little sibling grows and moves within me i am reminded of you. Sometimes i find it hard to accept that if you had not died this little baby in my belly would not have existed, its hard to reconcile the feelings of loss with the feelings of love and gratitude. I hope you understand that I will always love you and that this new baby will never be a subsitute or replacement for you.
This morning I was looking through the photos the midwives took of you on the day we first met. Once again i was struck by your pianists fingers and your impossibly long legs, but today through my tears i noticed other little details. Your little knobbly knees, your long skinny arms and your lovely little nose (just like daddy's). You were and are perfect and i am so grateful for the time we got to spend together, just you and me.
Most days i am able to see the bigger picture, the positive impact your life has had on my personal journey and the amazing gifts you keep giving. But today i am simply sad. I miss you terribly my son and i would love to hold you and kiss you one more time.
This morning Eli and i baked you some bumblebee birthday cupcakes and i want to tell you about the conversation we had about them:

Me:"we're going to make a birthday cake"

Eli: "who for?"

me: " for a special little boy who can't be here with us to celebrate his birthday"

Eli: "why can't he be with us"

Me: "because he has already gone to heaven to live with God"

Eli: "but god lives in us"

Me: "yes that's true too"

Eli: "then maybe both god and the little boy live in our hearts forever"

...and do you know what my darling beautiful boy, I believe that at the tender age of 4 she has hit upon the truth with stunning clarity, you do and will live forever in our hearts.

Happy birthday sweetheart
love always Mummy, Daddy, Elianna and Baby
xoxoxo