An Unexpected Journey

Today is my third anniversary

 

But its not an anniversary that I want to celebrate, or an anniversary that I sought to remember, it just blindsided me this morning as I went about my daily routine. Today is the anniversary of the day that I lost my innocence. the Anniversary of the day I became a mother to an angel.
the day I realised that being a good person does not preclude you from having bad things happen.
the day I personally realised that being pregnant didn't necessarily mean bringing home a baby, at least not a live one. the way we had envisioned when we saw that second line come up on the pregnancy test.

 

I woke on this morning three years ago with a sense of restrained excitement. I remember throwing up in the toilet, as I had ever morning for the preceding four months, and wondering if I would ever feel normal again. I remember chatting to my best friend on the phone discussing whether the scan that day would reveal our baby to be a boy or a girl. other considerations didn't enter my mind. he or she was past the magic 14 week mark and therefore safe as houses. I remember I was worried that if it was a boy I wouldn't know how to be a mother to a boy, boys just seemed so alien to me. I understood girls, I was good at girls.

 

Steve came home from work to come to the scan with me, and taking Elianna with us we went into the room to see our baby. blissfully unaware of what was to come.

 

I knew what I was looking at straight away.
I had enough experience with ultrasounds to be able to assess the picture on the screen fairly quickly. I could see my baby's legs and knees folded up into the aptly named "foetal position" I could see the round shape of the head and profile of the nose, I could see the long feet and the stripy spine. but I couldn't see the reassuring flicker of a heartbeat. The technician looked hard, we even tried and internal scan. I went to the bathroom to empty my bladder for this and I begged God, the universe, whoever to show us a heartbeat.

 

The sonographer was very sorry to have to tell us our baby was no longer alive. I was 17 weeks and 4 days pregnant. He would be "born" at 17 weeks 6 days but had died somewhere around 16 weeks 4 days

 

Elianna was still in the room with us, and I remember looking at Steve (who with tears in his eyes was holding himself together) and telling him I needed him to remain strong so that we could both be strong and get through this together. In retrospect this wasn't the best thing I could have said at that time. If I had to live that day over again I would definitely be more supportive of my husband, I would tell him how sorry I was and that it was ok to fall apart. that falling apart is a sign of strength and we could rebuild together. I would tell him that I love him more than anything.

 

So we began our own unexpected journey.

 

There was so much I didn't know then...

 

• like when your baby is this far along, you need to be induced and go through labour... but they still call it a miscarriage and your baby "products of conception", because he's not past the "magical" 20 weeks
• like labour hurts, contractions are contractions, whether at 17 weeks, 30 weeks or 40 weeks, and listening to babies being born in the room next to the one you're labouring in hurts in a whole other way.
• like the fact that your baby looks just like a baby, a tiny human who fits in the palm of your hand (plus a bit), who resembles a combination of your family traits, just like his big sister did.
• nothing prepares you for the rush of love when you first see your baby, and get told he is a boy. even though you don't get to take him home, you are still a new mother and that love is no different.
• 3 day baby blues still apply, but no one will check in on you from the hospital... because you don't have a baby
• people will be silent... and its not because they don't care, its more likely that they don't know what to say

 

There are also things I wish I had known...

 

• Like it is possible to have your baby cremated. Even though his tiny body would not have yielded much ash, I would have like to have known I had this option. Instead they told me I could either take him home and bury him in my backyard (we were in a rental property, we hadn't even finished unpacking yet) or they would dispose of him in medical waste. (*Ultimately Jonathon's tiny body was transferred to medical science after his autopsy which showed him to be in perfect health) 
• Like its okay to talk about how you are feeling, and that those who tell you to let go and move on are the ones in the wrong. Grief is an intensely personal journey and no one has the right to think they can direct your steps, even if they just think they are helping.

 

And there are things I have learnt in the past three years that I am so grateful to know, even if I didn't appreciate the mode of delivery.

 

1. There is always someone there for you; If reach out your hand and they will meet you on the journey, I promise!
2. I am stronger than I ever thought possible. Through God and his strength I can weather any storm and grow through any situation- even if the storm seems endlessly dark and cold and the growth painful and strange.
3. Death is not the end; of love or of even of life- rather it grows each day, with every beat of my heart
4. There is a whole community of women founded on love and comfort and support, where there is no place for judgement or condemnation. these angel mums constantly inspire me and encourage me and I am forever grateful for these women.
5. You can meet people in the most unlikely of ways, through the most unlikely of situations and they will be your soul mates- Lisa I am looking at you!
6. People will surprise you; In both good ways and bad. but that's the thing about people, we are not perfect, we are flawed, which is why we are better together. sometimes you have to help others to help you. Tell them how you are feeling, teach them what things comfort and what things hurt, and forgive them when they misstep. We are all walking this journey for the first time, whether as grieving mother or family or friend or acquaintance. Sometimes we all just need a little grace and forgiveness..