Silence is Deafening

yesterday marked a milestone, one month.

One month since i held my son for the first and the last time

One month since i left the hospital empty handed and empty hearted.

One month since the bottom fell out of my world.

the flowers have long since faded and died,

the phone has stopped ringing and the

postman no longer brings sympathy cards.

when i see people they no longer ask how i am, or if i am doing ok

life, it seems, has returned to normal... for everyone else

in just 30 days

a month can seem interminably long when you're waiting for something exciting. i can remember month's that felt like years when we were trying to conceive Elianna and waiting for the day we could do a home pregnancy test. but this last month has gone by in the blink of an eye.

the memories of my son is fresh in my mind. Every time i close my eyes i still see his startlingly blue eyes, or his impossibly long legs or his dainty little fingers, and i feel the emptiness, the pain and the loss all over again. i can't believe its already been a month. I was told the other day as i cried in response to an unaware comment that it was ok to cry now as its still so fresh but in another month or two i will feel ok. i remember thinking "would this woman say this if i had lost something more tangible to her?" what if i'd lost my husband or my daughter. Surely such a trite comment wouldn't be ok in that situation.

so what makes it ok now? Is it because she has no point of comparison? or does she not perceive the loss of our baby as the death of our son? i could have spoken up, said something like "my son DIED i don't think i'm going to be OKAY in a couple of months" but i didn't... why? because it makes people uncomfortable. We can talk freely about mental illness, domestic violence, death from cancer and other killers so why not miscarriage or premature stillbirth? why do mothers and father have to suffer in silence after the loss of a much loved child?

Since we lost Jonathon i have discovered that so many of my friends carry the scars of baby loss. its heartbreaking to know that they have gone through this same pain, confusion and frustration. many of them being forced to swallow their grief as its expression became uncomfortable for the people in their lives to witness. How can we condone such callous treatment of our dear friends and family? i posted a note on my facebook the first week after Jonathon's passing. 20 things parents of Angels wish you would remember. i won't repost them all here as it is very long, but a few really rang some bells for me...

i wish you could tell me more than once that you are sorry my baby has died and that you are thinking of me, the truth is it tells me you care

i wish you wouldn't pretend my baby never existed. the truth is we both know he was growing within me

i wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over with in a matter of days/ weeks or months. the truth is it may get easier with time but i will NEVER "get over" this

above all please remember that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. the word miscarriage is small and easy but my baby's death is monolithic and awful. its going to take a while to figure out how to live with it. bear with me.

Now really i am lucky, i have had some truly wonderful friends be by my side through all of this, some of whom i didn't expect who have gone above and beyond to be supportive. However others who i did expect to be there for us have been noticably silent. i don't know why, perhaps they just don't know what to say? either way, their silence is deafening. By staying silent it says to me one of two things. Either "ï don't care" or"ÿour grief makes me too uncomfortable and i chose my own comfort over yours" Thats fine. its their pejrogative, but it still hurts. i wish i could say to everyone who has ever held back words of support for fear of saying the wrong thing. "your words may or may not hurt me, but nothing you can say will ever hurt as much as your silence might".

please i beg of you. if a loved one or even someone you just met has a loss of this kind. don't withdraw. by all means give them their space but please make sure they know you are there for them and thinking of them. this is the most lonely experience of any mother's life. we become members of an exclusive club that no-one ever wants to belong to. A club of silent tears and hollow hearts. your hug, your card saying ï'm thinking of you", message, phone call or flowers might be the only acknowledgement that mother gets of her grief that whole day/week or month. please don't withhold it because you feel uncomfortable. to my lovely friends who have been through this themselves; Sarah, Nikki, Steff, Rachel, Sara, Jess, Gen and anyone i have missed, i'm so sorry for your loss. i wish you had never experienced this pain and that you were holding your son or daughter now rather than mourning them with empty arms. I hope that you have a chance today to remember your baby and the love you feel for them. xoxo

As i said above i have had some absolutely lovely friends who have done some absolutely lovely things to show they care. i would like to publicly thank them now.

To Rachael, Katy and Cath thank you for the beautiful flowers, that put a smile on my face whenever i walked pass them. it meant more than i can say.

To Nikki words cannot express the love i felt when i opened my little "jonathon heart" i have been wearing it constantly and it makes me feel close to my baby boy, thank you so much.

To Jacqui, your letter and your heartfelt words of sympathy had me in tears. i love you girl and value our friendship so much, thank you for being there.

To Darla, Deb and Steff. thank you for your words of wisdom, encouragement and support. you three women have been the backbone of my slow journey back to the land of the living. i don't know what i would've done without you

To simone, thank you for your visit. having you here to actually hug and talk to in person meant so much to my healing process. your letter was hard to read but i'm glad you shared it with us

To Cilla, Aunty louise, Nanna, dad and sandra, Kristy and everyone else who sent cards, you made our day/s. Simply knowing that someone cares and is thinking about us eases the grief just a little, so thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

To Kel, kate, Sarah and Fleur. thank you for the regular messages on my facebook wall telling me you are thinking of me. its really nice to know we're not forgotten.

To my mum and steve's mum... thank you seems like hardly enough to fully express our gratitude for your continued love and support. you grieved our loss with us, you felt it as deeply and personally as if he were your own son. we are sorry for the loss of your grandson.

How are you doing?

I probably get asked this question at least once a day by every person i speak to lately... usually i answer in a manner so as to ensure the person asking doesn't feel uncomfortable or upset "i'm doing okay, have my bad days, but you know... i'm fine" I sometimes wonder how it would go down if i answered truthfully...

i am grief striken. i can be so overwhelmed by the grief that at night when everyone is in bed i cannot sleep for the pain from the lump in my throat and the uncomfortable wetness on my pillow. i'm not fine, i'm sad. But i am also a good actor, i can pretend for months if necessary that i'm fine. Even though i'm not.

I feel angry. I don't really even know who i am angry at... God? the universe? myself? All i know is that i am, at times, consumed with RAGE. Blood boiling anger at this whole situation and the unfairness of it all. In my more rational moments i am uncomfortably aware that there is no-one on this planet that deserves to have this happen, but at times i'm just so filled with the "why me?" of it all.

I feel empty. The physical emptiness of my womb is a constant reminder of the loss of our son. The hole in my soul is even harder to ignore. Where i once felt filled with God's love i now struggle to maintain that same level of faith. When once I felt so totally blessed by God, had immense faith in his love for me and his willingness to hear and answer my prayers, i now feel like he turned away when i needed him most... and that hurts. I'm trying to find the meaning in this... but i don't understand. I still believe in God and all his promises.. but maybe they're for other people.

 I feel resentment toward my many beautiful pregnant friends and my other wonderful friends with new babies- which is so very unfair on them. Every status update about how their pregnancy is progressing, their birth announcements, their excited countdowns, proud reporting of milestones reached and even just descriptions of everyday events serve as daily reminders that we won't be making these announcements nor will we experience these moments of joy and excitement. Our journey is over already; we didn't get to bring home our son and wonder at him as he grew. Each and every time i read something new about babies and pregnancy its like a needle to the heart. I know that its unfair of me to feel resentful toward them, they have every right to enjoy their pregnancy and celebrate their babies, indeed they SHOULD as their babies should be celebrated and enjoyed. To be even more contrary i would be hurt if they decided NOT to share these things with me, as i would feel excluded and outcast. (Rock <=> me <=>hard place). Today at the zoo I walked past so many pregnant women and it was like a physical pain in my heart, i resented them for their healthy rounded tummies and contented little smiles. THAT SHOULD BE ME!

 I feel like a failure. physically i feel like my body has failed me. Failed Steve, failed Jonathon and failed even Elianna. Failed to provide the promised son, brother, grandson, nephew and friend. Failed to look after my son. i feel like i must be somehow broken, not in good working order, defective, defunct and damaged.

I feel cheated out of my healthy baby. Cheated that i paid the price of morning sickness, unhealthy food cravings, reducing my exercise, the resulting weight gain, tiredness, crabbyness for 18 weeks of pregnancy and now... nothing. Most people won't even recognise that we've had a death in a family. In the last two weeks our loss has been lumped into the same category as gall stones and boil lancing, i feel cheated out of proper mourning, for a "proper" baby. I know people will expect us to "get over it" eventually. how do you "get over" something like this. We are eternally changed, altered inside so much that i am surprised that people cannot tell just by looking at us.

I feel guilty. When i tell a concerned friend that "i'm doing ok" i often truly think i am... then i stop myself and think HOW? how can you be ok? its only been 2 weeks! When i laugh, when i am happy, when i go for longer than i think i should without thinking about my son, i am overwhelmed with guilt. How can i be happy? my son is dead! i should be mourning him. Part of me wants to get out there and enjoy life with my girl and my man and maybe even try for another baby.

I feel so conflicted. i cannot replace jonathon, nor would i try...but i want to be "normal" i want this never to have happened, but since thats not possible i want sometimes just to pretend it didn't.... and then on comes the guilt, right on cue.

I feel terrified that i may never get another chance to hold a baby that i have conceived, nourished and carried for 10 months.

 i feel sadened that i will never have a carefree pregnancy. i will never again feel that there is a "safe point" in pregnancy after which your baby's health is guaranteed. Hearing a heartbeat WILL NOT reassure me,

....and then i feel guilty about making this about me and my future when Jonathon hasn't got one...

Finally i feel hopeful, sometimes when i sing a song, or play with Eli, or laugh with Steve, talk with a friend, or buy something pretty. i feel hopeful that my life won't always be a constant tightrope walk between how i think people want me to act and the total and utter dispair that beckons off the other side. One day i will smile and laugh without guilt. i will think of Jonathon with sadness, not dispair and i will hold another baby in my arms who i can tell all about their big brother who watches over them from heaven... one day

  So many emotions all a whirly gig inside my head. All day. Everyday. i'm reminded of a line from a Harry Potter book (of all places). In the story Hermione is explaining why Cho cried when Harry kissed her and Ron replies "no one can feel that all at once, they'd explode!" and i think yes, yes they would wouldn't they?

Perhaps thats what this blog today is... my relief valve... sharing through the written word to prevent an explosion later.

Edited to add: I looked back over the list above and i feel very self-indulgent. there are many people in this world who have suffered far worse than i. and for that i am truly sorry :( Perhaps if i can help one other person who has suffered a loss like ours to feel "normal" then maybe its okay to be selfish sometimes? ...

our son Jonathon - Part 2

Friday
Friday morning saw an early trip out to the airport to pick up Steve's mum who had booked a last minute flight the night before so that she could be here for Eli. The last thing we wanted was for poor Eli to be stuck with us at the hospital while we waited for things to happen. Our new pastor then arrived, having taken the day off work, to drive us out to the hospital. once at the hospital we went straight to radiology for our ultrasound. even though i knew that my baby had died i couldn't smother that final glimmer of hope that they had gotten it wrong. consequently the moment when it was confirmed was almost as heartbreaking as the day before. now i KNEW :(

We were sent up to the delivery suite to be induced but once there we were told that we would have to go home and come back the next day as they only had a couple of spare rooms and they had to be saved in case a labouring "mother" came in. this was all too much. i broke down crying and we asked if there was any other option. they were firm in their stance and we were sent home, the nightmare continuing... the only hope we had was that they promised not to bump us from the list unless they had no other choice. the next morning we woke at 6am to ring the delivery suites to see if they had room for us. once again the birthing rooms were all full but the mum's in them were in active labour so we were to ring back in a few hours. Finally at 8:30 we were given the okay to come in. by 9:30 i was in a labour room and being administered the first dose of misoprostal (initially a drug used to treat gastric ulcers that they discovered caused premature labour in pregnant women). After having a cannula (sp?) inserted and at least 12 vials of blood taken so they could begin investigating why this happened i was left alone. they told us it could take a few doses 6 hours apart for it to work.

we stayed in that room for the next hours, listening to the labouring mothers in the other rooms, interspersed with the cries of newborn bubbas, the cries we would never hear. The differences in our circumstances was stark. i was surprised to note that i felt no resentment towards the other mum's, even in my complete despair i could remember the joy of Elianna's birth and be happy for the new families being formed that day. by around 2:30 i was starting to feel some pressure and my waters broke. our hopes lifted, maybe this nightmare experience would be over soon and we could begin to heal. unfortunately it seemed that was not the case. After the breaking of my waters everything stopped. although my next dose of misoprostal was due at 3:30 it wasn't until 4:30 that a OB could be found to administer it. at that point she found that i was less than 1cm dilated, not at all effaced, in effect not ready to birth my baby. she left us saying she would be back in 6 hours.

Our son Jonathon was born at 5:15 It is all too raw to write the details of the labour and birth, suffice it to say it was as painful as Elianna's labour only more difficult as i didn't have hope to sustain me. Jonathon had Blue eyes, long legs and was absolutely perfect. His fingers were exactly like Elianna's, so long and delicate, a pianist's fingers. he weighed a mere 20 grams and could fit into my hand. his face, already beautiful, had my nose and Steve's brow line. the curve from his back to his legs was so reminiscent of his big sister as a baby that i can hardly bear to think that i won't ever change his nappy. we have so much love for our son, our beautiful little boy. we wanted him so much. there is a hole in our lives where he should be.

today i should be feeling kicks, and dreaming of his future. instead i am heartbroken that i will never hear him call me mummy, that Eli will never meet her little brother who i know she would have loved so very much, i won't get to breastfeed my baby and have the pride that comes with nourishing him and keeping him healthy. instead i have failed to keep him safe, the one thing he needed from me i couldn't give him and now he is gone and i can never make amends. i wanted to post the photos that the midwives took for us of our beautiful son but i didn't want to open him up to ridicule. if you would like to see him please let me know as I'd love to show you him... in time. thank you for sharing my journey. thus far one of heartbreak, hopefully in the future it will be one of healing and hope. i just can't see that road yet...

Our Son Jonathon- part one

i have tried to write this post a number of times, but as i couldn't see the keyboard or screen through the tears i have waited until i can think of my son without immediately bursting into tears. to tell Jonathon's story properly i will start from the very beginning...

Back in November 2010 i noticed that Elianna was getting to the point that she was fairly independent and no longer "needed" mummy to be there beside her 24/7. Around the same time i realised that i no longer thought of a second child with trepidation, in fact we were both quite looking forward to another baby sometime in the future. Thus it seemed to us that it was TIME to start trying for a brother or sister for Elianna. Given the nearly 2 years of heartache it took for us to conceive Elianna we thought we might as well start trying right away. 3 cycles later, in February, we got lucky and i got my first positive pregnancy test at just 3 weeks and 4 days a week and a bit after Elianna's 2nd birthday.

  Needless to say we were ecstatic, our EDD was 30th October and my life felt so blessed and perfect- apart from the disappointment of not being able to go on the rides at the theme parks during our family holiday to the Gold coast in September lol - in my defence last time we went i missed out too as i was newly pregnant with Elianna- and i couldn't even live vicariously through Steve as he hates roller coasters. Dark clouds arrived around 2 weeks later when i started to bleed, i was devastated thinking it was all over before it even began. lots of prayer and support later i had a scan at just over 6 weeks and there was my baby, with its beautiful heartbeat beating away strongly. Elianna was fascinated at the scan, even more so when she was told she was seeing the baby in mummy's tummy "bye bye baby" she waved as the sonographer switched off the screen. the bleeding stopped shortly after and i began to relax, finally believing that this baby would be fine.

   a couple of weeks later Steve received a job offer involving our move to Melbourne and we eventually agreed that we should move our growing family to Melbourne for an adventure (not necessarily for ever). so began a busy month of organising a home, movers and saying goodbye to my best friends and greatest support in Newcastle and the central coast. During this time my best friend was due to have her baby and i went up to Coffs to help in whatever way i could. It was my first overnight away from Elianna but i was able to console myself with the fact that one of my children was with me and in a few short month's she would have to be apart from me while i gave birth to her little brother or sister. My friend's beautiful baby girl finally arrived and i was enraptured by her, holding her shattered the final piece of doubt that i was ready for another baby- i WANTED THIS! Upon my return from Coffs i had the NT scan at 13 week. once again there was our baby rolling and waving about. the sonographer even had difficulty pinning down the NT measurement as the bub just wouldn't stop moving lol. After that i had just two short weeks before we were to leave for Melbourne and lots of work to do before we were ready to go. those two weeks were so busy that i barely thought about my pregnancy, knowing that everything was ok in the scan had set my mind at ease. it wasn't until everything was loaded on the truck and the keys to the house handed over that i found myself wondering about my pregnancy.

  i was 15.5 weeks by then and i hadn't felt any convincing movements yet. after that thought entered my head i couldn't shake it and spent every spare moment thinking about it, trying to feel my uterus and trying to work out if my tummy was growing. the feeling of dread descended, although i tried to block it out. i reminded myself of the prayers back in the early weeks of the pregnancy and of the reassurances i felt from God that everything was okay and everything would be fine. by then end of the next week i had worked myself up into a tizzy of uncertainty and found myself a nearby GP and made an appointment for the following monday when i would be 17 weeks and 2 days pregnant. the interceding weekend was a bit better as i knew i would have some answers on the monday. although i had fears i still fully expected to hear that everything was fine and that i was worrying about nothing. After all i had had no bleeding or cramping, in fact no sign whatsoever that anything was wrong- other than mother's intuition i guess. at the appointment the GP took my blood pressure: fine, my temperature: fine, measured my fundal height and palpated my uterus, both fine. he then pulled out his little handheld Doppler and had a go at finding the heartbeat. before he tried he told us that he may not be able to find it this early and that we shouldn't worry as it would be more a reflection of his skill. So when he couldn't find the heartbeat my heart dropped to my gut but i tried not to let myself worry too much. i had a Midwife appointment at the hospital the next day, she would be able to find it i was sure.

we left him with a referral for the morphology scan at 18-20 weeks, the next morning we all got up very early and fought with the traffic to get out to sunshine hospital for our 8:30 appointment. however the appointment didn't go at all like i had expected. the Midwife only asked questions and wrote notes, not one element of practical checking of my pregnancy. she didn't even try to use the doppler. as we left the appointment i was upset and asked steve to see if he could book in the morphology scan early as i couldn't handle living another 2 weeks with the uncertainty. Much to my relief we got an appointment for that thursday morning.

Thursday 26/5/11
Thursday morning i woke up with a sense of relief, today i would see my baby, know it was fine and maybe even find out the sex. i still had that dread in the pit of my stomach but the hope i felt was stronger that day. we went in the scan and were immediately disappointed as the angry sonographer said we shouldn't have came in this early for a 18 week scan, that he wouldn't do it til 20 weeks. i started to cry at the thought of another 2 weeks in limbo and we asked him to please just do a quick scan and tell us everything was ok. he grudgingly agreed and we got down to business. i knew something was wrong as soon as the picture came up. every other time i have always been able to identify the heartbeat immediately but there was no sign of it at all. my baby was curled up as though cold or in pain. my heart broke. the sonographer confirmed our worst fears moments later. although i was 17 weeks 4 days pregnant, my baby was only measuring 15 weeks 3 days. our baby had passed away in the days before we moved, and i hadn't even known.

 i don't know how long we sat there crying, i couldn't believe that after all of his promises God had still decided to take my baby back, i was angry and hurt and heartbroken. Just broken in general really. the rest of the day was a tear stained blur, i returned to the GP to get a referral to the hospital and get the necessary blood tests started. my GP advised us to present to the ED the next morning. After ringing the hospital when we got home they were more understanding and took us in hand. they made an ultrasound appoint for the next morning for us to have a final confirmation and said that i would be induced in the birthing suite on the Friday.