Day 13 - Book

Day 13 - Book

I bought lots of books, thinking I would read them and find comfort. Wonderful friends sent me books that had been helpful to them too. I mostly escaped into a good fictional crime novel to be honest. 

But there was one that I rather liked because it allowed me some reflection too. I took it to the launderette with me a couple of times and it stayed in my handbag for a while. It is written beautifully and recounts one woman's story. And then there is space for you to write your own thoughts. 

As is the way with me, I never did finish it - it is quite time consuming doing all that writing! - but I think I may go back to it following today. 

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2012 entry

Day 13 Capture Your Grief - Signs

I used to believe in 'signs'. I used to think seeing certain things was a 'sign' from God, or Dad or the cosmos that something was going to happen. 

When we got pregnant 3 days after deciding to give up on trying for a baby and accept our infertility, I took it as a sign that someone up there didn't want us to give up. Blimey, that was a great sign! We had never known such happiness. 

And then Isla died. 

So what is that a sign of? Are we being taught a lesson? Are we supposed to just accept that now? Did we do something wrong that we deserved this?

So now, the only signs I see are bad. 

Day 12 - Article

Day 12 - Article 

This is what Rachel wrote for her daughter Rhianna who was born sleeping on 16 October 2005. It is quite a well known passage in the baby loss community and it is easy to see why it resonates so well for many of us. Not much of the written word reduces me to tears, but this does. 

Stillbirth - The Wall

You are walking along fine with everyone else and the sun is shining and all is going ok and then you walk SLAM into a brick wall. And it hurts - really hurts. It hurts your head and your chest where your heart is and your stomach.

And it shocks you as only slamming into a brick wall can. Stops you dead in your tracks. And you stand there thinking "How did I not see that coming? What the hell happened? How could someone just do that to me?" And you look around and everyone else seems to be walking round the wall. They are carrying on like nothing happened and the sun is still shining for them. They don't even see the wall. They don't even know its there.

And you realise you didn't know it was there until you hit it - you didn't even know there was a brick wall you could hit - not now, not at this stage. And slowly you pull yourself together. The pain in your stomach goes away but your heart still hurts and your mind is racing with questions about this brick wall - how, what, where, why? Mostly why. Why on earth would someone make you walk into this wall - why did they have to put it in front of you and no-one else? And you can walk again now the pain in your stomach and maybe your legs has subsided.

So you slowly make your way round the wall and to the other side. But it doesn't look the same on the other side. It's greyer and emptier. And you know you've left something behind - something very precious and you want it back. So you turn round and there is the brick wall behind you and it seems to hit you with the same force again when you realise you can't go back.

Its blocking your path and it will always be there. You pummel your fists on it and cry and shout at it but it's unbreakable and absolute. It won't let you get your precious bundle back - that has to stay on the other side and you must carry on without it. You can't go back to the path you were on before you hit the brick wall - it's impossible. 

So all you can do is go forward and walk on from it. But its hard-going and your legs don't seem to want to walk away from it. You know when you look over your shoulder it will always be there. It may fade a bit from view but if you look closely you will always be able to see it - even in the distance.  And you look around you again and see all the people who never hit the brick wall carrying on too.

You tell some of them about the brick wall and they sympathise - it must have hurt they say. You are looking well despite hitting this brick wall - you have no cuts or bruises on the outside because those heal. "So you must be doing okay then now?" they say. But my wounds are on the inside you feel like screaming. How can you not know about this brick wall - why couldn't you walk into it instead of me? And then you feel bad - you know you wouldn't really want anyone else to walk into that wall.

Some people are ok - maybe they have seen the wall themselves in the past or come close to it - maybe they are really good friends and family who close their eyes and do try to imagine walking into the wall. They are the ones who help you keep walking away from it. People tell you that you'll never hit this brick wall again - it only appears once in your life.

And you want to believe them even though you can't be sure. Up ahead it looks like maybe your path does cross back into the sunshine again - the same sunshine that everyone else is basking in. And you can just maybe make out another bundle waiting for you to pick up and carry with you for the rest of your life. And maybe if you are strong and keep moving forward then you'll reach it one day.

But it's not the same bundle as before - it can't be.

That one is behind the wall.

The wall that's always there if you look over your shoulder.

And written on it in forever more is the message in letters a mile high, that only you can see - My darling baby. RIP

http://www.uk-sands.org/resources/my-story/stillbirth-wall

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2012 Entry

Day 12 - Scent

I didn't post yesterday. I had a funny day. Getting ridiculously angry about house move not happening still - it seems to be consuming so much of my emotions. So I didn't feel I could give this the proper attention yesterday. I had a lovely afternoon with a friend and her kids but by the evening just needed to chill out with Homeland and a glass of wine. 

So, is there a scent I associate with Isla? Not really, I guess. The only thing I 'smell' is her little hat, dress, muslin and blanket that she was in while in hospital with me. The funeral home washed them for me and gave them to me after her burial and they are so precious to me. I bury my face in them and although I can only smell washing powder now, I can imagine the wonderful scent of a newborn baby or talcum powder or even a dirty nappy. Scents I never got to smell with Isla. 

Day 11 - Triggers

Day 11 - Triggers

There are lots of things in day to day life that make me remember Isla. Since getting pregnant again and even more so since having Caleigh, the most prominent trigger is definitely when someone asks "Is she your first ?". 

Now, do I deny my daughter and say "Yes, Caleigh is my first"? Or do I risk scaring,saddening and probably slightly embarrassing that person by saying "Well no actually..."? Sadly, I usually opt for the latter, though it often depends on my mood and who is asking. But every time someone asks me that question I think of Isla. As it is, I usually lift my eyes to heaven and say a quick "Hello, I love you" to my precious daughter and, if necessary, a "Sorry" for dismissing her. 

Caleigh is my second born daughter. She is a little sister. I am a mother to two children. Isla will never be forgotten or truly 'dismissed' but sometimes I'm just not quite strong enough to tell every Tom, Dick and Irene all about her while standing in the Sainsbury checkout queue. 

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2012 Entry

Day 11 Capture Your Grief - Supportive Friends and Family

Wow, we are so blessed to have so many around us. We have the most amazing friends and family.

My family surrounded Dan and I from the moment they found out Isla had died in me. They cried with us, made us laugh through the tears and have provided immense love when we needed it most. 

Friends have rallied around us and made us feel like we're not going through this alone. I'm sorry if your photo is not in the photo - it doesn't mean you're not supportive, I just ran out of room! Thank you for the invites out to coffee or drinks, thank you for stopping in, thank you for coming to Isla's funeral, thank you for the texts just to check on me. You are all stars!

The larger photos in the collage are of course Dan, my wonderful husband. There is no way on Earth I could have gotten through the last 3 months without Dan. He has been my rock but also someone to cry with. He is amazing. I'm sorry I can be such a pain, Dan!

Then there's my mum. What a fantastic mum I have. Both Dan and I have been blown away by how supportive, loving and caring she has been. She has cried with us, hugged us, screamed with us and driven 400 miles to be with us over and over. Thank you, mum. Neither Dan nor I could have done any of this without you by our side and we shall be forever grateful. Xxx

Day 10 - Beliefs

Day 10 - Beliefs

A friend wrote to me after Isla's funeral. He didn't know if I'd want to hear what he had written but he knew he needed to give me the letter. It told me that he had seen an image of Isla with Jesus. Walking hand in hand with her in heaven. He drew it for me. Now, this is a lovely image but one I struggled with at the time. Isla should be hand in hand with me, her mum. And besides, she was a baby. How could she be walking with Jesus? And there my dilemma ended. 

I think about where Isla is now quite a lot. A conversation I had with my mum last October is what my image is based on. We too were discussing where Isla was now. We decided she was, of course, in heaven. And she was with my dad. He would be the proudest, most wonderful grandad ever. And it would be Isla and dad walking hand in hand through heaven. She wouldn't still be a baby, but she wouldn't have had to 'grow up'. She would just be a little girl. With dark hair, freckles and green eyes. She would be smiling and laughing and dad would be laughing too. Neither of them would get any older and they would always be together. 

I like that.

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2012 Entry

Day 12 - Symbols

Symbols aren't something I usually associate with. Lots of things remind me of Isla but not necessarily 'Symbols'. But I do find significance for Isla in beautiful things. Such as flowers. 

The Snowdrop Appeal are an amazing charity who I will mention properly later on in this project. They raised money initially for two cold cots to go into Derriford Hospital. That meant I was able to spend 2 precious days with Isla and be her mummy in the only sense of the word I now know. They are now raising money for a separate wing for bereaved parents at the hospital, which would save us the pain of delivering and staying on the main labour ward. So there's a snowdrop in my collage. 

There is also:

~ A Forget-Me-Not heart shape - obvious reasons for that one and one of the flowers in my tattoo. 
~ Some wildflowers - we will plant these at Isla's grave to keep her 'alive'. 
~ Dandelion seeds - The literature I was sent home from hospital used these as a symbol of new life, new hope and new dreams. Also a symbol of time passing. 
~ Crab apple blossoms - we will be planting a crab apple tree for Isla in December and I have blossoms tattooed on my side too. 
~ A view of the wildflowers (with the rock) that are at Yealmpton Woodland Burial Ground, where Isla lays.
~ The large pink flower and the flowers on the beach were photographed for me by the wonderful Catherine of Gabriel's Garden. Catherine chooses a photo for each baby and then takes the flowers to the beach to be released into the wind. She specially chose this one for Isla. 

So maybe I do do symbolism after all?!

Day 9 - Music

Day 9 - Music

I can't write a whole lot on this. There is no specific song that makes me remember Isla. There are lyrics in songs that make me sad but I couldn't really pinpoint one in particular. So my image today represents all the music that has become part of my journey so far and that which I have yet to hear. 

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2012 Entry

Day 9 Capture Your Grief - Special Place

You never imagine that you will go into hospital pregnant and full of hope but come out with a bunch of information about funerals for babies. It's not right. Parents aren't supposed to bury their children, no matter the age. 

Dan and I didn't really think about the practicalities of organising a funeral too much but since I had a few days in hospital after having Isla, I started to consider the options. Baby garden with the other babies, a grave yard plot or something else. Driving out to see Dad in the beautiful South Hams, we had driven past a sign for the Woodland Burial Ground a hundred times at least. It had caught my eye a few times over the years as somewhere I thought was a lovely idea, but I'd want to be cremated so it never really registered properly. 

But it popped into my head in that hospital room and just felt right. Close to Dad's home, near our favourite dog walks, and somewhere we would feel comfortable visiting Isla. For me, the big selling point was that she would be surrounded by nature. Beautiful flowers and trees growing around her forever, creatures thriving in the earth and butterflies loving being around her. She would be surrounded by beauty and growth - she never got to grow up but could be amongst life. The idea is that eventually the plots will return to nature and the whole site will be a wild woodland once again. 

I think it's perfect.                                                            (click to enlarge)

It was a lovely day, the sun was shining. It was a quick 'service' by a minister we know well, Andy Caldwell - very simple but all we needed. For us, it was about having our loved ones around us. We had originally wanted it to be small, just the 2 of us and direct family. But more and more people asked to come, wanted to be with us and support us, recognising our daughter. She touched more people than we could have fathomed and that became clear on the 30th July 2012. 

The photo shows me standing aside her grave to show the size of it really. I was taken aback by how tiny she looked compared to other adult-sized mounds of earth. You can also see the little butterfly I made for her.  The other photo is a poem I tied to the tree that is at the head of her grave. It flew away into the wind over the next few days, which I liked - she took it for herself! The ribbons are still there and I've added more to her grave since. 

These last photos are how it currently looks:

Day 8 - Colour

Day 8 - Colour

I thought this would be really hard to think of something for but it was actually quite obvious. 

The colour that makes me think of Isla is light. When sunlight, or light in general, shines through a prism or a raindrop you see that it is made up of every colour of the rainbow. How amazing is that?! 

I've written before about how I love the effect of the sunlight shining through clouds. It's like heaven touching earth. Whenever and wherever I see it, I try to take a photo but I always say a little hello to dad and Isla. 

And rainbows are of course special to angel mummies, as a sign of hope and miracle. So my image today shows heaven touching earth and a wee rainbow for Caleigh, our miracle. 

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2012 Entry

Day 8 Capture Your Grief - Jewellery

What a lovely subject today. Certainly less painful but nonetheless poignant than the other days so far.

I love having significant treasures around my neck. For instance, when Dad got ill, Dan bought me a cross saying "Every little helps" although he doesn't believe in 'all that stuff' really! I wore it solidly for at least 2 years, through Dad dying and IVF treatments. Then mum gave me a different cross which Dad had given her when she was younger. So then I wore that one. That's the cross in the middle in the photo below. I then wore that one for about a year solidly too!

The day we vowed to stop 'trying' for a baby was the day of the cancelled Ireland 6-Nations game last February. So in addition to the cross from mum/dad, I had put a shamrock pendant on the chain too. It's one of those ones where it has a real flower inside the resin. I was still wearing it when we got the positive pregnancy test, so wore it the whole pregnancy. I took it off the day we found out Isla had died. I'm not sure I'll be able to wear that one again, and didn't photograph it today.

When Isla was born sleeping, I realised I needed another piece of jewellery that I could buy myself and wear daily. So I found a real-flower in resin one, shaped like a heart with little forget-me-nots inside. It's beautiful and is the one on the right in the photo. 

My birthday was 1 month exactly after Isla was born, on 13th August. A day I didn't really feel like celebrating and I was lucky enough to have a lot of my family around me. My mum sent me a beautiful necklace (on the left) with a card that read:

.... I don't want to overwork things or be morbid or anything, but I chose this necklace for lots of reasons.  I wanted something in Rose Quartz as it stands for Hope, Love and Healing, which I want for you. When I saw this particular design, I knew it was the one I wanted because the description on the Hot Diamonds website described it as being 'cradled' in the silver flowers. I thought that was a lovely image and made me think of wee Isla being cradled in her natural surroundings, especially when we get some flowers planted. And, then, the 'Hot Diamonds' bit is a bit of a link to your Dad as he and I bought you Hot Diamond things for your graduation [and my 21st birthday]. So, lots of symbolism and nice thoughts! I hope you like it.

Well, I love it. It's very special and gets worn on very special occasions!

All these necklaces are so special to me. I remember Dan phoning me from town as he was looking for my birthday present. I've always wound him up that he would have to buy me a full eternity ring on the birth of our first child. Well, Dan was in the jewellers when he rang to ask if I wanted one, having had Isla. What a difficult question to ask and even more difficult to answer. I said No, as it turns out. I have the necklaces to remind me of Isla and I'd love to have an eternity ring on the birth of a living child. I've got enough memories of Isla and I'm running out of space on my fingers!

Day 7 - Me Now

Day 7 - Me now

On Carly-Marie's website for this project, she has given us some hints to consider each day. In thinking about today's topic I am going to use her questions directly. 

1. Where are you in your grief right now? 

My grief is 'different' with Caleigh in my life now basically. That might be a bit controversial to some people. No, she doesn't heal me or stop the grief completely, as I discussed before. But I'm a year on and in a very different place. 

2. How are you feeling? 

Probably not the things to say in a project about grief... But I feel happy. Every single day. Thanks to my beautiful daughter. She is my rainbow, my joy, my everything. My days are filled with laughter and overwhelming, all-consuming love. So Caleigh is my picture today. She 'completes me' as the corny saying goes! 

3. How far have you come? 

In counselling, they asked me to put myself on the windy road. Where in my journey of grief was I? In September 2012, when I first went, I was on the first big bumpy bend. I travelled the windy road, having better days and worse days. I didn't come off the road of grief but by January 2013 when I was 10 weeks pregnant with Caleigh, I was off in the distance. I'd come so far but would never truly leave the road. I continue along that road still now but the journey is much easier. In my rear view mirror I can clearly see where I have travelled before but there is a road ahead filled with hope, joy and peace. 

4. Are you wrestling with anything? 

A HUGE part of my grief following Isla was around not believing that we would ever get pregnant again, that I would only ever be mum to an angel. Now we have Caleigh there is a different grief - I am sad I lost Isla but I wouldn't have Caleigh if I still had her. What a conflicting thought for any rainbow mummy. A clashing of grief and happiness with utter confusion! 

5. Is your heart heavier or lighter now?

Much lighter. I explained once that my days used to be totally sad. I was eaten up with grief. I didn't have good days, just bad days. Now though, my days are joyful. Moments of them can be speckled with sadness but it's not whole days. Just snippets in otherwise happy days. What a journey!!

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2012 Entry

Day 7 Capture Your Grief - What To Say

I'm still reeling from reading everyone's 'What Not to Say' comments on Facebook from yesterday, Day 6. I have to say in summary, the most hurtful thing is NOTHING. Agreed by many people in the group. I know it's hard for people but literally ignoring the fact that I had a daughter called Isla at all is the most incredibly painful thing from people I know. To be fair, it hasn't happened a great deal amongst close friends. Work colleagues, yes. But not close friends and family who know and love us. 

So, after a hard one yesterday, it was also really difficult to think of things that have been especially good to hear. I picked 4 phrases I wish people would say more often actually. Thank you to those people who say these things in all genuineness.  
(Click on pic to enlarge)

1. How are you, Sara? I really want to know. What lovely words. Not just an empty 'How are you?' but a simple prompt that means you really want to know. You actually care and want to hear whether I'm having a good day, a bad day or a so-so day. If I'm having a bad day, you are going to listen. If I'm having a so-so day, I may not want to go into it, and that's fine with you. If I'm having a good day, you won't assume I'm over Isla and can laugh and joke guilt-free, because that's not the case. If I'm having a 'good' day it just means I'm coping better that day. It means I'll probably go home and have a cry and feel terrible that I managed to have some fun for a while. 

2. How is Dan? Dan has been my rock but he is grieving deeply too. Again though, please don't ask if you don't want to actually hear how he's doing! 

3. Please tell me about Isla. I'm afraid my brain is completely obsessed with Isla. I could talk about her all day every day. I spend a huge majority of my day thinking about her. She has impacted my life like I never believed possible. Thing is, when I get going, I might not be able to stop. I have to try to hold myself back when I realise people may have heard enough. But, if you are brave enough to ask and are genuine in that, please do. I even have photos!

4. I don't know what to say. This is so much better than Nothing. I respect this response to my grief. Who on Earth really knows what exactly to say to someone whose baby has died? How can you really have the words for someone who gave birth to a sleeping baby, heard deafening silence in that moment, cried as she held her newborn baby girl and buried her amongst the meadow flowers?

I think what it boils down to is HONESTY. Please don't say Nothing, just be HONEST. 

A simple text, an invite for lunch or drinks, a quick phone call or even stop in. All these things I crave. I don't want to have to call you for these things. I will never feel ready to do that and if I do, it's because I'm desperate for company.