Capture Your Grief 2014

Day 1 Capture Your Grief

Sunrise

Due to a sicky baby, I thought I'd be up to see sunrise. But alas, she slept! 

However, this girl IS my sunrise. Every day I wake to her face and she lights up my life. What more can I say?

Day 2

I carry her in my heart

Day 3 - Before

This was climbing Moel Sibod in Snowdonia. Climbing 'mountains' would become quite important to us after losing Isla, and this is where we discovered we quite liked it! 

We were 4 years down the infertility road and had just had our last failed ICSI cycle. That was it. We were done. A few weeks later we would decide that for once and for all. But miracles will happen...

Day 4 - Capture Your Grief

Now - I am happy. I have an Isla-shaped hole in my heart, but Caleigh is a true heart healer! She has fulfilled every dream I've ever had and both Dan and I are so totally in love with her. She has changed me into a 'real' mum and made me happier than I could ever have imagined being. Isla still plays a part in our lives and Caleigh will hear of her sister often but the dark days are gone. Light has flooded our hearts and home once again. The heart in the top right corner is for Isla. 

Day 6 - Book

This was a hard one because I haven't read any amazingly life-changing books - yet! I have a couple I want to buy in the future, to help us tell Caleigh about Isla. But of all the books in this house that are special to me, the most important ones are my photo books. I love photos. I have heaps of photo books of Caleigh and a couple for Isla. In my purse, in amongst the stamps and receipts, I have a mini book of photos of Isla and that is such a precious book to me. A little reminder of her beautiful face, tiny hands and wonderful spirit.

Day 7 - Sacred Place

Isla is buried in the most beautiful woodland burial ground. We don't go up lots really but I blow her a kiss every time I drive past. Caleigh has been up a couple of times, but this photo was taken when we laid the gorgeous wooden plaque for her on Caleigh's birthday weekend. It looks perfect.

Day 8 - Resource

After having Isla, I was in hospital for 8 days, as I was so poorly. Now that's a lot of time to spend thinking, crying and browsing the web. And what you find is a wealth of information and support. By the time I left the hospital, I had already tapped into SANDS, Babycentre and the Carly-Marie website. Through those groups and pages, I found a Facebook group that became a lifeline. The women on there are now truly amazing friends, without whom I couldn't have quite so sanely got through my pregnancy with Caleigh or dealt with my grief so well. There is a whole community of fantastically strong women out there, who have faced unimaginable pain and come out the other side. I am proud to call them my friends. Thank you, girls!

Day 9 - In memory 

Every day, I remember Isla. I have done many things in memory of her - my tattoo, the assault course challenge where we raised nearly £4000, selling my sewing for charity, raising awareness of parvovirus b19 (slapped cheek), sharing our story with people, laying her plaque, talking about her to Caleigh and climbing Pen y Fan for the second time - this time with Caleigh! Everything I do, I believe, is fuelled by the strength I found through Isla. I fail miserably at reflecting her peace and beauty every day, but I try very hard to be the best I can be. Mother, wife, teacher, sister, daughter. In everything, is Isla.

Day 10 - Support

My family have been my support. Everyone in the photo of Caleigh's first birthday party has been amazing to us on our journey through grief. And others too, that couldn't be there - other friends near and far as well as the fab rainbow mums I've met. The baby loss community is a supportive place and you definitely find out who your 'real-life' friends are too. Dan has been such a support over the years and we may bicker like cat and dog, but we love and respect each other endlessly. My sister and mum and Iain are constant supports, even through their own issues. I didn't have space for every individual - my brother, Rose, Aunty Jane, in-laws, Gemma, Jes, Kim, Heather, Sarah, everyone at Mutley. I'm very lucky to have such wonderful people around me and I'm sorry if I've missed you off!

Day 11- Altar

I don't really 'do' altars and we don't have a huge amount of stuff on show for Isla either. A few pieces here and there but on the mantel are a few bits - the candle I light for Wave of Light and a memorial tag I bought for Isla's 2nd heavenly birthday. Just enough to catch my eye and provoke a moment of thought and reflection.

This weekend...

What an odd weekend. What a strange couple of weeks actually. My head's been a bit all over the place... 

Today we laid, finally, a memorial plaque for Isla. I had found a wood-carving sorta person locally, who had said he could do the plaque for a very decent price. And because mum and Iain are down this weekend, we figured it was a perfect time to lay it. And it was perfect. It looks perfect. So pleased with it! 

   

But mum and Iain are also down for Caleigh's birthday party. Which is tomorrow! I've been manically baking, sewing, cleaning, sorting, making lists, making lists of lists and generally flapping! However, I think it's coming together! Photos to follow!

But it makes for an odd sentiment, that this morning we laid a plaque for one daughter and this evening I decorated a cake for our other daughter. That messes with my head a little actually! 

Happy birthday, Isla

A hard day. Guess it always will be. I'll start from the beginning...

Friday 13th July 2012 - woke around 7am. Milled around until about 11am, when I suddenly panicked that I hadn't made anything for Isla. I had to make her something. A teddy. Perfect. So I cut it out of the fabric I had bought for the changing bag. Then sewed it all wrong in the hurry. Of course. So Mum unpicked it while I got ready. Then I sewed it correctly before Dan stuffed it. A real group effort! 

Then off to the hospital at noon. I'd not had any contractions or bleeding, but still had a huge bump. How could this baby not be alive? But I knew she wasn't. It felt like a solid brick attached to my front, not a living baby. We went straight back to the same room on the labour ward where we had been given that awful news two days ago. I won't go into all the medical gumf that went on but by 12:30 I was contracting slightly. The mood was ok I guess, certainly once I got a bit drugged up as time went on! I hated the gas as it made me so thirsty. I kept drinking and drinking. Two jugs of water later and I felt like I needed a wee. It was about 7pm. The midwives were about to change shifts. I was given a bedpan and sent Dan and mum outside. The relief I felt as something filled the bedpan was immense. But so was the pain. It was blood. Filled to the top. About 750ml. I asked if that was meant to happen and the midwife did the classic "erm, that's ok, don't worry... I'm just going to get someone to help... Just lie down..." 

And then I don't remember too much in order. I remember lots of canulas and injections and blood. Dan and mum say there was blood everywhere. All on me, the bed and the floor. I just kept bleeding. I remember being given an epidural by a hot anesthetist and a catheter by a not-so-hot doctor. Or was that before the haemorrhage? I don't know actually. But I was poorly for sure. My blood pressure just kept rising. It reached 235/140 at one point, which kind of scared most folks. That's when they grabbed the big red box for pre-eclampsia emergencies and wheeled me quickly into the high dependency room. All a blur. 

And then not long after that I felt that something was there. She was coming. And there she was. Mum saw her. Dan and I did not. They sort of put her beside my leg while they sorted me out. A placenta was coming that was unlike anything they'd seen before. It took a lot of effort and in the end weighed 300g more than Isla. That's not normal. It was a very diseased-looking placenta and clearly not something healthy for Isla to have lived off. Isla was born at 11:52pm and weighed 900g. (2lb1oz)

They worked on getting my oxygen levels stable and the bleeding stemmed for another couple of hours. I must have drifted off too. They brought our little girl to us at about 2:30am and we got to hold her. 

She was clearly very poorly - very bloated from water retention and red too. But my goodness, she was so beautiful I couldn't help but smile at her. 

I wouldn't be leaving the hospital for a further 7 days, with a couple more visits to the high dependency room too. We would have Isla with us as much as possible, free to hold her when we wanted. On the Saturday night, I sent Dan home and spent the night with her by my side in her little cold cot Moses basket. On the Monday she went to the mortuary. We saw her there on the Tuesday and Wednesday, then she was sent to Oxford for her post mortem. We would never see or hold her again after that. 

We left the hospital on Friday 20th July with heavy hearts and empty arms. 

Today I do not have empty arms. But I've struggled. We had such a lovely day yesterday up that mountain and were driving home from Wales today. I wanted to do something fun as a family. Like a zoo or farm. But we had Fudge with us, so couldn't really stop. So we bought some plants at Endsleigh and went to The Ship Inn for lunch. Caleigh was a pickle. Not eating at all, just crying and fussing. And I hate to admit that it was annoying me. I didn't need to hear whinging. I wanted smiles and joy but instead got upset at her. I just wanted to be able to smile. It makes no sense. I can't even put in into words. By the time we got to Isla's burial ground, I was sobbing as Caleigh was screaming. Dan calmed her down before we went to plant a flower for Isla. We spent very little time there, as Caleigh was still being grumpy, so just left. I need to go back in the right frame of mind I think. In my own space maybe. I can't grieve Isla properly when Caleigh is being like that. I feel so terrible saying that. I really do. It breaks my heart but as I sit here with my little monkey being her normal lovely self now, I know it was just the grief and I needed that scream and cry. 

So yeah, two bad days. Thank you to everyone who has messaged and thought of us this weekend. There's a couple more updates in the next few days, as more things came to light back then. But that's it for now, I guess. 

Two days, two years apart

It was an odd day in 2012. It was the Thursday. We had only been home from the hospital since about half 4am and had cried and cuddled to sleep. I had had part one of the induction medicine and been told I may start bleeding or contracting, so basically to stay in bed. Family visited in the day and helped us smile and talk. The midwife came round to check my urine and generally cover her back - "we could never have known"...

But it was a limbo day. Little did we know the absolute horror that was coming. Yes, we knew Isla had died. (We had now called her that.) But so much more was to hit us yet. 

It was at some point that day that Dan packed away the baby stuff and his friend came and picked it up. A sad little pile of clothes, comforters, shoes and books, all heaped into a Moses basket with rocking stand. Our friend cried and we cried. I grabbed a muslin from the basket before it was carried out of the door. It was on the top and felt like something 'useful'. For what, I didn't know. 

We didn't know that people take clothes or blankets for their dead baby, or that they arrange for photos to be taken, or that we might want to bath her or see her with a certain toy. 

Over that day, I would read up about stillbirth and what sorts of things people did and choices they could make. But it was still not reality. Everything was still just a blur. 

Two years later, we are in Abergavenny and today have climbed Pen y Fan mountain. Highest peak in Southern Britain. We climbed it in October 2012, which was the weekend of Isla's due date. We laid a stone engraved with her name. Little did we know that a mere two weeks later, I would be pregnant again!

The original stone and climb

So today we went up again and this time we had Caleigh too! What a different experience. Aside from a challenging climb (I helped with the baby carrier too!), we couldn't find the original stone we had placed. I had sort of expected not to find it but it was harder than I thought not finding it still there somewhere. But we laid a new stone in memory of Isla anyway. We've hidden it under a big rock so hopefully we can find it next time. 

A really lovely day, a successful climb and a great achievement. 

Just trying to mentally prepare for tomorrow now,,,

Still numb...

This actually hurts more than last year. I think it must be because last year I was so focused on being 38 weeks pregnant. I was aching, sweating through the heat wave and mainly trying to stay mega positive. I didn't want or need to be consumed by grief. Although Isla was certainly not far from my mind, I had to stay in a good place, mentally. 

It would still be another 2 days until Isla would be born, but it was on Wednesday 11th July that we found out she had passed. I went to work on that morning.  My feet were now huge and I was in agony, I was hobbling around but still convinced she was ok. The medical professionals had said so, right? 

I went home at lunchtime and used my AngelSounds doppler to listen in. I found a heartbeat of 120bpm and thought I must have counted wrong. That was quite low for Isla but not alarmingly low. So I downloaded a timer app on my phone but then the phone battery died. I left it to charge while I had my dinner. Came back later on and there was no sound at all, not even the whooshing sounds we'd heard since 13 weeks. I tried for 45 minutes and, trying not to panic, then called Dan, who tried for a further 30 minutes. We were convinced my full bladder was just in the way or she was facing backwards, as the midwife had said the day before. Dan asked me what would make me feel a bit better and I said I felt I needed to call someone. 

So at about 9:30pm, I called the labour ward, who asked us in for 'reassurance' purposes only. The midwife came into the waiting room with a portable Doppler and tried to find a heartbeat - this was in the waiting room full of other pregnant couples, obviously hoping for a quick solution. She couldn't find a heartbeat but stuck with the full bladder theory. So we were taken into a side room and she tried again. No luck but still no negative thoughts even crossed my mind. So we were taken to another room, further down the corridor. I remember starting to worry but not to such a degree that I could have imagined what was to come. The midwife decided we needed to drain my bladder with a catheter but they only got 10ml out. I was still in agony from the catheter when a senior consultant came into the room with an ultrasound machine. 

I remember it was about midnight now. I remember the jelly on my tummy. I remember the ache of the catheter. I remember the midwife standing behind the consultant. And Dan sitting to my left, holding my hand. I remember the consultant was sat on a stool with the screen facing him, but I could just glimpse the screen. 

And there was nothing. Nothing on their faces but also nothing on the screen. Even from 7 weeks we had seen that flickering. But there was absolutely nothing. And the midwife's face was so sad. I remember just staring at them and then the screen, almost recognising what was about to happen. And then, there was the moment I will remember forever and ever. That moment the consultant put the scanner very carefully back in the holder and reached toward me with his right hand. And his eyes said it all before he even uttered the words "I'm so sorry.... There's no heartbeat". And then I remember screaming and shouting and shaking and crying and screaming some more. How, how, how??? Surely he was lying. Surely this couldn't happen at 27 weeks? Not to our miracle baby. Not to us, after everything. 

And suddenly it was 4am. And we were leaving the hospital with induction medicine inside me and paperwork about what to do when your baby dies. What the heck had just happened? This wasn't real. Even now, as I sit here, tears streaming down my face, I really can't believe that was us. Still numb.   

So that was it. That was Wednesday 11th July 2012. So far, the worst day of my life. 

   

Heart break...

Technically, there is no Timehop from today for two years ago. I know from vivid memory that is because I gave updates in the comments below the photo of my swollen feet. 

The 10th July in 2012 was the Tuesday. On that day, I had contacted the midwife upon advice regarding my swollen feet photo. I had an appointment that afternoon. Upon arriving home I wrote on the Babycentre forum how the appointment had gone. 

And how telling those words are. I knew something wasn't right but I was reassured by a medical professional. Despite since having an official apology for their actions that day, I still can't help but be heartbroken about the consequences of that flippant reassurance. And to feel like a whinger rather than a mother. 

Not only was Isla dying but the aches, pains and bloating were signs that I too was becoming very, very ill. 

Ouch, heart hurting now. 

It starts...

I have this app on my phone called Timehop. It shows you previous Facebook activity from the past 6 years or so, for that particular day. Obviously, I know we are heading towards Isla's birthday but nothing can really prepare you, I think. 

The next couple of days of Facebook statuses from 2 years ago are going to hurt. They are going to bring back some pretty heavy memories and feelings. This is what Timehop showed me today. 

This was the day my feet swelled like balloons. The mirror syndrome was starting - I was getting pre-eclampsia and Isla was dying. She had been slowly dying, really, for a couple of weeks but it was mirroring in me now. It will haunt me forever that I should have forced someone to listen to me. I'd put on 8lb in a week. 1 stone in 2 weeks. There is a tremendous amount of guilt and sadness linked to these few days in history. Why did I not realise that she wasn't kicking me? Why did I not just go to the hospital and demand to be seen? Why did I not take things more seriously? 

And then my sensible head kicks in. I was naive. I was a first time mum at nearly 27 weeks. Why would anything possibly be going wrong? Things don't, do they?

I'll keep posting over the coming few days as these feelings come to the surface. It's the only thing I can do, really. I know there's much more pain to come. 

Day 31 - Sunset

Day 31 - Sunset

The sun sets on this project amidst controversy and sadness. The baby loss community has been shaken after this event was removed from Facebook for offending people. I am actually too upset to go into it all really. The wonderful lady who organises it, Carly-Marie Dudley, has been obviously distraught and is releasing a video later, which I will post a link to on my blog. I hope it continues in 2014 as I would love to see how life changes in another year's time! 

Thank you to those of you who have shared this project with me, supported me and made it feel even more purposeful. I hope some of you have learned something too - I have certainly learned more about myself, the baby loss community and my friends! 

I am afraid to say Caleigh and I slept through sunset tonight! How awful!! But some of my wonderful friends have sent photos of sunsets to me so I have made a montage of them instead - and what a beautiful image they create. 

I wondered whether I would stop blogging at the end of this project, but I think I'll keep it open - just in case I have more thoughts at any point in the future! 

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2012 Entry

Day 31 Capture Your Grief - Sunset

So that's the end of baby loss awareness month. Though obviously not the end of our grief.

The weather here in Croatia was not good today so I prepared by taking a photo last night when the sky was beautiful.

I have found this project healing in a way. I have found it therapeutic to be able to share my grief with others. I apologise to those who have not shared in this experience and found it useful in some way. Thank you so much to those of you who have.

Day 30 - Growth

Day 30 - Growth

When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandise the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something has suffered and has a history, it becomes more beautiful. ~Barbara Bloom 

Now, I'm not saying I'm more beautiful, but I have changed, thanks to Isla. I do see things differently, as in I feel the grief of other mothers and want so badly to help prevent similar losses to mine. I definitely have more of a zest for living - you only live once after all and life is short! There are more important things to worry about in this life than money or objects. It's about happiness and love and peace. I sound like a right hippy! 

So, the gold that has aggrandised me is made up of Caleigh, Dan, family, friends, Fudge, memories of Isla and all the everyday things that make me smile now. And for that, I appreciate everything in life just that little bit more. 

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2012 Entry

Day 30 Capture Your Grief - Tell the World Your Grief

Taken in Korcula, Croatia today...

It says "This is Isla, my daughter. Ask me about her. I still grieve deeply for her.

Day 29 - Healing

Day 29 - Healing

To be honest, the greatest healer has been Caleigh. As I walk through this month of Capture Your Grief, it has become even clearer to me how amazingly blessed we have been. And what an impact she has had on my healing this year. I'm not going to end up back in that dark place. Yes, I still hurt sometimes but, where there once was a gaping hole in my heart, Caleigh has helped fill it back up with love, joy and giant smiles. 

However, another aspect of healing has been talk. Talking about Isla to family and friends. Talking about slapped cheek. Talking about infertility. Talking about counting the kicks. Talking about sadness and seemingly endless grief, jealousy and guilt. As I mentioned on the Support day, family and friends have been amazing. 

One friend, after her own loss, recommended the counsellors at Plymouth Pregnancy Crisis Centre. A lot of hospitals around the country have bereavement midwives and offer counselling following a loss. Plymouth does not. You leave the hospital with empty arms and that's it. Fend for yourselves. Which we accepted was just the way it went. Until my friend told me about PPCC. So last September, almost exactly 2 months after losing Isla, I sought them out. And I met two of the loveliest ladies. I worked through my grief on something called The Journey. They listened, they smiled, they cried, they supported, they explored and they understood. It was just what I needed. They were also some of the first to know I was pregnant with Caleigh and, when I finished counselling in January, I was 11 weeks pregnant. What a journey indeed. 

I'm being interviewed by Comic Relief this Thursday about the counsellingI had, as PPCC been given some finding to develop their work with grieving parents. Nervous doesn't even cover it so I hope I can do them, and my daughters, justice. 

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2012 Entry

Day 29 Capture Your Grief - Music

At the Exeter Cathedral service by Saying Goodbye, Lara Martin sang a beautiful song called Soothe, which was about her own baby loss. It was beautiful and very poignant. She doesn't have a YouTube video for it however, so I had to make my own up with her song ion the background - Lara kindly offered it for free after the service.

I also love this song, which we had at Dad's funeral. We sang the traditionalAmazing Grace at the crematorium but this version at the church service afterwards. I have it on my phone, so when I play the music on shuffle, it sometimes pops up. It came up twice today!

Day 28 - Special Place

Day 28 - Special Place

Isla is buried in the most beautiful spot - a woodland burial ground in Yealmpton, South Hams. I have always loved that she is surrounded by new life and gets to become part of nature. I love that going to that place is so peaceful. I don't go so much any more, I just don't feel I need to. I never went heaps anyway, though we went up the other day and laid some more flowers. Both of us were very emotional actually, with Caleigh now sitting in the back seat. 

The photo shows a picture of me just after I had planted Isla's crab apple blossom tree, which was last November. It also shows the flowers that our family laid for Isla on her birthday in July. I was pregnant with Caleigh at the time and found it quite hard to be true to my feelings, in all honesty. One of the plants, the one with little red flowers has, in fact, taken root and found its own new life right at the side of Isla, which I find very lovely and poignant. 

Thinking about last year's entry on memories - I still have those pregnancy tests from Isla but also now have the ones from Caleigh! I took about 12 this time which is quite a few!!

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2012 Entry

Day 28 Capture Your Grief - Memories

I have put my pregnancy tests as my memory. My VERY first memories of Isla. I have every single one of them still. Only the digital ones have worn off. I have about 6 still. 2 are in her memory box and the others are in a basket in the bathroom. Blimey, it hurts to see them when I open that basket up. But it's a pain I need, almost. I need to remember that happiness. I need to remember how to feel that happy. I need to look at them and feel hope about seeing something so amazing again. That disbelief that we had got pregnant became the most immense happiness I have ever felt, only to end in such an intense depth of sadness, I'm still not sure how to get out of it. 

Day 27 - Signs

Day 27 - Signs

This time last year, all the signs I saw were so negative. But this year, we have with us the greatest sign of hope - Caleigh. Dan was only just saying to me that 2013 will be the first year in over 3 years that we have not faced struggles or tragedy. Touch wood!! But in Caleigh, we have hope again. And happiness and laughter. 

Caleigh is a sign of joy, a sign that miracles happen, that infertility isn't always unbeatable, that rainbows come after the storm, that we are a strong couple, that you should never give up and that the smallest people really can change your lives so enormously. 

Caleigh is also a sign to remember Isla. We will tell Caleigh about Isla, so her memory will live on. I also see signs of Isla in Caleigh. Her brow and her little sloped nose. Her long fingers and perfect head! Signs of Isla live in Caleigh and that, to me, is so fantastic. 

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2012 Entry

Day 27 Capture Your Grief - Artwork

Two pieces of art I have put in my picture today.

1. Night and Her Train of Stars by Edward Robert Hughes.The priest at the Saying Goodbye service in Exeter Cathedral explained how his wife loves this painting following her own baby losses. He didn't necessarily explain why, but I love it. I have thought of it as all the lost babies being comforted in the sky by the beautiful night. They are safe and shine brightly.

2. Mewstone and Rainbow by Toby Ray. I grew up in the same village as Toby and have bought a couple of his pieces in the last couple of years. The Mewstone is a rock in the sea by the village of Wembury in Devon. We scattered Dad's ashes from a yacht there last Easter, as he wished for us to do. The rainbow is significant to all angel mums as a sign of hope amidst the grey, miserable storm. It is beautiful ~ though it cannot take away the storm itself, it is a sign that it will end and sunshine shall return. To have both those things in one piece of art really touched me when I saw Toby post this picture just the other day. I have bought 4 cards of the print and have put the A4 print on my Christmas list!

Day 26 - Community

Day 26 - Community

You don't even think of there being a 'community' of women who've all lost babies, until you need it. You need someone to turn to and ask questions, a safe place to vent and the truly understanding ear of someone who has already been exactly where you are. These women (occasionally men) know the road we travel all too well - some are further along it than others but everyone feels one another's pain. Gradually, from the first entry you put into a search engine - in my case, I was still at the hospital - you find the SANDS forum, where someone puts you in touch with a Facebook group called Angel Mummies. Once there, you might join the TTC group (Trying To Conceive) and then hopefully get to the Rainbow Mummies group once that positive test makes an appearance. 

This group became a lifeline for me, as these were women who had been through losses and were now pregnant again. And I tell you what, it's a whole different kettle of fish once you've experienced loss like that. Some were 30-odd weeks pregnant and others just beginning the journey. But at all times of day or night, they were there. No question, issue or problem was too big or too small. Sadly, some women had to return to Angel Mummies. Such tragedies united us in our grief for one another. Hopefully they would return to great elation. Though every new member was greatly celebrated. Once you have your baby in your arms, you also become part of the Rainbow Babies group - what a privileged group to be part of, again providing much needed advice and support - often now in the wee hours!

ALL of these groups have helped me through dark days, joyful days, difficult days and contented days. I hope I can give back to them and others in the same way I have benefited. 

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Day 26 Capture Your Grief - Her Age

Day 25 - #Say It Out Loud

Day 25 - #sayitoutloud

There are lots of things I would wish to shout from the rooftops about this journey.  

~ Talk to me about my daughter, Isla. She is still so important to me

~ Don't be afraid to ask me about Isla

~ Don't forget Isla, say her name!

~ Listen to your instincts when pregnant - be strong about getting the right care

~ Miracles do happen

~ Bad days are now rare, but I still get them

~ You can survive this 

~ You don't get over the death of your child, you get through it / around it

~ Count the kicks 

  

I could go on. But the one thing I am just  passionate about people hearing is about Parvovirus B19 (slapped cheek). Why is immunity to it not routinely checked at booking in appointments? It doesn't cost the NHS a penny more but apparently saving 1 in every 20,000 babies is not worth the effort. Women, especially those in regular contact with school-aged children, should know their immunity status. Only when you know your status can you spot the symptoms of infection and catch it early enough or be monitored more closely. 

I asked to be tested and was told to stop worrying as I had probably had it as a child, I wouldn't be able to avoid catching it anyway and, at 16 weeks pregnant, it's not dangerous after 20 weeks so why bother? That false reassurance led to Isla's death and was wrong. 60% of adults are indeed immune to it. I was one of the 40% who weren't. No, you can't avoid catching it, but if you know that symptoms in adults are different to those in children - headache, fever, lethargy, achy joints - you can watch out for them. Though, as in my case, there can be no symptoms at all. And it IS dangerous after 20 weeks - less so, yes, but it can still infect your baby, as I and others know. 

Talking about saying it out loud, I have been asked to talk about the counselling I had with Plymouth Pregnancy Crisis Centre - by Comic Relief! The centre have been given some funding from Comic Relief to expand upon their pregnancy loss support programme called 'The Journey'. Caleigh and I are meeting a lady for a filmed / taped interview next Thursday! Could be a lovely opportunity to honour isla further,  raise more awareness of the support needed for grieving families and speak out about the taboo surrounding baby loss. Maybe I can even drop in some info about slapped cheek!!

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2012 Entry

Day 25 Capture Your Grief - Baby shower / blessing

We didn't have a baby shower, though they're not really something wedo amongst us. Or maybe we do. I don't know. My sister gave me some lovely bits but I don't have them to photograph as they're now in storage. Dan's Aunty Jane sent stuff almost every week it seemed, which was so lovely. I know some people were making quilts or bibs and I'm sure others were planning stuff that they haven't told us about to save us the tears. I'd love to know if there were other little things people were planning to give Isla. I don't think I'd necessarily want them because I have nowhere to put them but to know she had belongings already seems quite important. 

We hadn't bought much really, because we were supposed to be moving house and didn't think it was sensible to buy loads only to have to move it. I had whole folders on my computer of stuff I was going to buy as soon as possible though. However, I did get the odd few bits which again I didn't really photograph - why photograph them empty when soon they'd be full of baby? I found a rocking Moses basket in a charity shop and called Dan to ask if I could buy it. It was so cute seeing it sitting there waiting for her. She never got to lay in it. The shoes in the photo were in a little box of stuff I bought from a lady at school, barely used seconds, though these seemed brand new. I adored them and took photos of them resting on my growing bump. Such happiness. 

To have a baby shower for a future baby, if we are lucky enough, is not something I think I'd want to do. Until I'm home and safe with a happy little baby, I don't think I'll be able to enjoy such an expectant event. But then, I guess I don't know for sure how I'd be if we were so lucky again. 

Day 24 - Art

Day 24 - Art

This time last year, I posted about the painting in this picture but I only had it as a print on some cards. It is painted by a friend, Toby Ray, whose work I love. It symbolised the hope of a rainbow baby whilst commemorating my dad, whose ashes are scattered near the Mewstone, the rock off Wembury in Devon. It meant so much to both Dan and I when my mum and step dad commissioned an original of it for our Christmas gift last year. By then, it held a whole load more meaning, as I was now 9 weeks pregnant. It hangs where I can look directly at it in our living room, a very special piece of art. 

The button art is something I created for Caleigh's nursery. A rainbow, for obvious reasons, and then, to represent Isla, a heart etched with the words 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' - as in, dreams really do come true! 

As I return to my post from last year, I remember that Siblngs was one of the hardest subjects to consider. The thought that I would never bring home a living child was so devastating. It played almost the biggest part in my grief. I wrote that I would not be pregnant again in 2012. Little did I know that just 11 days later I would conceive my second daughter! Amazing!!

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2012 Entry

Day 24 Capture Your Grief - Siblings

Well Isla doesn't have any. And that is what makes me go all faint-feeling and nauseous these days. Was Isla our only child? Will I only ever be mummy to an angel? Will our story only ever be 4 years of IVF and a stillbirth? Will Isla ever be a big sister? She seems to have potentially kick-started something in me but we've got plenty of other issues working against us, as we always have. Plus Dan is away now, basically until Christmas with the odd days in between. I guess I won't be pregnant again in 2012. 

It breaks my heart to think of never being a mummy to a living baby. To think of never being pregnant again. Never feeling a baby inside me again. Never seeing another baby on an ultrasound screen. Never being able to get that beautiful Moses basket and cute little clothes out of our friend's garage. Never needing to open that box of maternity clothes again. To never feel that unconditional love for a little person who has grown inside of me again. 

My picture shows the glimmer of hope I sometimes feel about our future. Some days it's all black - we will never know that happiness again. Other days I feel more positive and can find hope of a happy future, but the glimmer is so small still. 

Day 23 - Tattoos / Jewellery

Day 23 - Tattoos / Jewellery

I've written about all these pieces before actually. I've got my pink 'cradle' necklace from mum and my forget-me-not resin heart that I wore to Isla's funeral and ever since. Though having said that, the chain broke on that necklace the day before I went in to be induced with Caleigh. Since she pulls and grabs, I haven't replaced it yet as it'll only end up broken again. 

Then I've got my beautiful new rings - the forget-me-not knot ring and blue stone that I've been wearing every day. 

The tattoo survived being pregnant! I thought it would stretch and distort but no. I love how it reminds me of Isla and dad and, in the bump photos I took while pregnant with Caleigh, even more so. 

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2012 Entry

Day 23 Capture Your Grief - Isla's Name / photo

I took ages trying to find the way I wanted to present my baby girl's beautiful name and am so pleased I found a way and could just about follow the instructions!

We took a while choosing names and think Isla is just perfect. It's such a pretty name and fits with our surname so perfectly. We would have given her a middle name had she been born crying, but it seemed fitting just to have a perfectly wonderful, solo first name. 

____________________________________________A close up of the photo...

Day 22 - Words

Day 22 - Words

So many poems and verses have touched my heart over the last year. Song lyrics and passages on blogs will reduce me to tears. But the poem I have chosen today is one I wrote out and tied to Isla's tree just after her funeral. It just summed up my feelings then and even now. (Writer unknown)

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2012 Entry

Day 22 Capture Your Grief - Place of Birth

Isla was born sleeping in Derriford Hospital, Plymouth, almost exactly 48 hours after we were told she had died in me. 48 hours from that awful moment that the consultant looked at me and reached towards me. Since we screamed and cried and sobbed some more. Since my heart broke into a million pieces. Hence the mosaic of the maternity entrance placed upon a typical view of Plymouth. 

I am broken. My heart is in a million pieces. I will never be the same again. Fault lines run through me. They can be 'grouted' or repaired but you will still see them. Forever. Some people may think I am complete, but this is just not the case. I pray that one day I may feel whole again, have a purpose again and feel less pain every single day.