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.