Finding the smallest of miracles

I wanted to write something today because, well..... because I haven't in so long. Not writing is not the same as not thinking about everything though. I think about Isla every moment of every day still but I think about her in different ways.

~ Sometimes it's pure grief. Tears build up in my eyes as I think about her beautiful little face and how tiny she was. So perfect, yet gone. I miss her so much and am distraught that I don't get to see her grow up and become an amazing woman.

~ Sometimes it's happiness... that I got pregnant with Isla in the first place and that I got to see her and hold her. I feel such happiness still when I get to talk about her in any way with anyone, in exactly the same way a 'normal' mum would feel joy talking about her child.

~ Sometimes it's reminiscing - whether it's reminiscing about parts of the pregnancy, before I was a changed woman, or reminiscing about parts of the days and moments from when we found out we'd lost her, from the moment the consultant reached for my hand and said 'Im so sorry' to the incredibly traumatic labour, funeral and my time of grieving.

On this note, I've been going to ante-natal classes and it's all first time mums there. When asked if I'm a first time mum in such places, I say something along the lines of 'Kind of' and let them make their own mind up - will they leave it at that or ask more? At 31 weeks pregnant, all kinds of people, mostly strangers, ask me if it's my first and I vary between saying 'Kind of' to saying quite blatantly 'Hmm, no, I had a daughter last year who was stillborn' to giving a long pause before saying 'Yes'. In such circumstances that pause allows me a second to think of Isla and mentally apologise to her for dismissing her as my true first.

People have started talking to me about their labour stories and I think even people that know about Isla, forget that I've done it. Yes, she was tiny, but the labour was horrific enough to know what I'm going to be going through, although hopefully this time it was go a lot more smoothly.

~ Finally, sometimes it's fear. Fear that the same thing is going to happen to this little miracle I have inside me now. Surely God would not take my precious child from me twice? At over 31 weeks, according to most people I know, I'm in the 'safe zone' - I no longer believe in 'safe zones'. I have been deeply immersed in the world of baby loss and although this baby is our 'rainbow miracle', she may well still leave us. I try so hard to be positive and I do believe the positive thoughts now slightly outweigh the negative ones, but it's such a scary road.

 As part of that positivity, I am going to Mothercare tomorrow and buying everything I need! Car seat is my main priority but according to my 'list' I've got about £600 to spend on stocking up for a newborn! Oh dear, don't tell Dan!

And I also had to get rid of the beautiful Fiat 500 - we could only afford to trade it in for a Panda, but it's got 5 doors, fits the pram in the boot and is a nice colour!

Miracle rainbow...

Due 28th July, our amazing little miracle rainbow.

A complete surprise so soon after our beautiful Isla and a very nervous journey so far. But we are of course excited. Every day that passes and I still hear the wonderful sound of that little heartbeat (I have a home doppler to keep me sane!), I get more and more excited about this blessing.

We're not actually being monitored more closely really as they consider me low risk. However, I have my own midwife who will see me right through to the birth and also a consultant on the end of the phone who I've met twice so far and the next time will be at 19 weeks. He basically said that he doesn't believe I got pre-eclampsia at 26 weeks for pre-eclampsia's sake. As I suspected, he said it was Maternal Mirror Syndrome, meaning I was mirroring what was wrong with Isla - the bloating basically - which, in me, manifested as pre-eclampsia. I was very poorly and could have died just like she did. Scary but means I'm not actually 'high-risk' this time. Obviously I can't catch parvovirus b19 again (slapped cheek) but there's still an epidemic of it going on, so I've had my bloods checked again to ensure I was really immune. My midwife is part of a team called the Jubilee Team. I refused to go back to the same children's centre as before, where those 2 midwifes are who I hold responsible for Isla's death are, so get to choose a different centre for my antenatal classes etc. She's always on the end of the phone for a call or text.

I had lots of bleeding in early pregnancy and therefore lots of scans, but everything has settled. After the picture above was taken at 13 weeks, I now have to wait until 4th March for my 19 week scan, when I will also meet with the consultant again. He advised me to use the doppler to check on the heartbeat when I felt worried. I do it every couple of days and it's such a wonderful sound! Currently beating at about 160bpm so, according to the old wive's tale, still in girl territory! I can't wait to find out for sure!

Tomorrow I am 15 weeks pregnant. At Christmas, Dan and I were given the original canvas of the Mewstone Rainbow painting by my friend Toby Ray. I mentioned it during my October project and again since I think. And my mum and step-dad got us an original one made up! It's not hanging on our wall yet as we're trying to move house still, but it will certainly have pride of place when we do! So lovely to have a representation of both Dad and Isla in a very special piece of art.

Day of the Dead

I am still in Croatia on the island of Korcula. Today is Day of the Dead, which is celebrated here by going to the graves of those you have loved and laying down elaborate flower displays. They keep the graves beautiful and today the priest will say a few words to remember them. When Gemma, my friend here, and I went to pick the flowers up for their family graves, I bought a single flower to represent little Isla. I had thought I would go along with them, but I didn't have funeral clothes appropriate to the occasion, so I have stayed behind. Which is fine by me, because I went down from Gemma's house onto the rocks with my single white flower and had some moments alone.
 
I think I probably spent too much time thinking about catching a good photo while the light was good and which setting to have the camera on, but did end up taking some time to think of her properly too. I threw the flower initially and it caught the wind and landed just on the rocks below me, so I threw it again, much further this time, which worked better. As I remembered my little girl, I found some peace there on the rocks, with the wind blowing and the waves crashing. She is gone in body, and gone from my body, but remains forever in my heart.

  



 
 
 

Great photo here! Click to enlarge!

 

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 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 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 Capture Your Grief - Her Age

Day 25 Capture Your Grief - Baby shower / blessing

We didn't have a baby shower, though they're not really something we do 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 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 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.

Day 21 Capture Your Grief - Sacred Place

This weekend Dan and I joined 10 other people from our bootcamp to go to the Brecon Beacons in Wales and climb a mountain or two. We climbed the mountain on Saturday. I was, of course, the most unfit and slowest but darn it, I was determined! 

Having just had Isla's due date on Thursday, we had made this weekend quite special, saying we were climbing the mountain for Isla. We chose to lay an engraved pebble at the top once we got there! We climbed Pen y Fan on Saturday. I love the thought that she represents an achievement of ours and that other people will see her pebble and not know who it's for or what happened to her, but they will know it means someone special has been lost to the world. As we were up there, having laid the pebble with another memorial stone, other people were having their photos taken at the summit. That means that their photos will have Isla in them. Other people from now on will have Isla in their photos. Our group leader, Tick, said he'll tell the military guys he knows to keep an eye out for Isla's pebble when they train up there. I love that. This is my sacred place now - one day we will go back ... though maybe climb the easier, gentler route!!

We climbed another peak that day and went up some more mighty big hills! Roughly 20km I think we walked, up hill and down. Slightly achy today for sure! Here are some more photos of our weekend!

Day 20 Capture Your Grief - Charities

There are a few charities who have touched my heart throughout this painful journey. When you're faced with such awfully deep sadness as we have been through, you find all these wonderful people who've not only been there before but are using their own grief to try to make things that little bit better for us all. Many heartfelt thanks to them all.

Snowdrop Appeal - Raised money for the cold cot Isla lay upon in hospital, that allowed us such precious time with our beautiful daughter. Now raising money for a separate room at Derriford for bereaved parents, which we are hoping to raise a lot of money for! http://snowdropappeal.webplus.net/
Saying Goodbye - the Exeter cathedral service which was just so very beautiful http://www.sayinggoodbye.org/
Aching Arms - What a beautiful sentiment, to receive a bear from another grieving mother to let you know you're not alone at such a sad time http://www.achingarms.co.uk/
Upon Butterfly Wings - Lovely gifts for bereaved parents from Bobby's Beanies http://www.uponbutterflywings.org/p/bobbys-beanies.html
Fifth Disease - An Irish charity dedicated to raising awareness of Slapped Cheek / Parvovirus B19 / Fifth Disease. They sent me a load of fliers which I have given to the head of midwifery at Derriford hospital and will be sending to all child centres, GP offices and play groups in the city hopefully. Awareness will hopefully mean no other babies need die from this little-known but deadly virus. http://www.fifthdisease.org/

Day 18 Capture Your Grief - Family Portrait

I can't take a family portrait today because Dan had to go to Scotland to work. Today is our due date and both of us were dreading being apart. However, thanks to great friends I know that I have certainly found more peace today than I thought I would. He is meeting me tomorrow in the Brecon Beacons to prepare for our mountain climb on Saturday!

Today I went for lunch at the Ship Inn, Noss Mayo

Then laid some flowers on Isla's grave.

Then we had a lovely riverside walk with Fudge and my friend Jess. A very lovely way to spend the day. I do hope Dan managed to find some peace today amongst his hard work. 

But because Dan was away, I have chosen a photo of us the week after Isla's funeral, when we were in France. I have this photo up in our living room. I don't have any photos of Isla up at all but this photo reminds me of that time. Of the week we escaped to the middle of nowhere and spent lots of time talking, crying and eating. 

Of course, Fudge is missing from this photo, so here's an old one from summer 2010 of all 3 of us!

Day 17 Capture Your Grief - Due Date

Today is not my due date. Tomorrow is. 

So it was marked on my calendar when I was pregnant. As was every weekly number. But when we lost Isla I scribbled them all out with marker pen. I put 'Due Date' back up there the other day because it's still important. 

Of course it's important. But it's just a day. Who really has their baby on their due date?! We have made the coming weekend more important, as we go to the Brecons to climb a mountain and lay an engraved pebble and some flowers at the top for Isla. Dan has had to go away to work as someone let him down, so tomorrow I'm seeing a friend for lunch, laying flowers for Isla and going for a walk, and then going to choir in the evening. Should be busy enough but peaceful too. 

Speaking of peace, I don't have much today. Or for the last few days really. Here are some things that are making me angry at the moment...

~ House move not happening any time soon. We're being seriously messed around. And if ONE more person laughs at how long it is taking, I'm going to punch them. It is not funny that it has been 6 and a half months now. Even more not funny that we may not even be in a new place by Christmas. Really not hilarious that we're losing house after house that we really like because we can't confirm moving dates.
~ Emailing people really important things and them not getting back to me
~ Phoning same people about raising a shit load of money for them, and them not being there when they said they would be
~ People driving really slowly and pulling away from green lights at a snail's pace
~ Always being the one at the back, or the one taking the longest, at bootcamp. I actually walked off 20 minutes early today and sat in my car and cried uncontrollably. Have a feeling there may be more to that than just being annoyed at jump squats or whatever they were!
~ Some flowers I was sent being left so long in the box that they're ruined and smell really bad!
~ Parking ticket on my hire car because my permitted car is still in the garage
~ Trying on hats. I hate trying on hats but need one for Brecons! Last time I wore a penguin hat and looked a wally so I've got a new one now!
~ Ridiculous traffic that meant I couldn't get out for tea at my friend's house tonight. Had to just come home and eat both kievs to myself and now I'm stuffed!

On a happier note, that brings me a glimmer of hope, the clinic called today and confirmed I ovulated this month according to 2 blood tests and a scan! 

Yay! Beautiful little Isla has kick-started something in me that could well bring us our rainbow baby. 

Day 16 Capture Your Grief - Release

Release is a funny one. It seems wrong to 'release' feelings sometimes. I like to bottle them up and keep schtum about them really. But losing Isla has taught me that I need to talk to people more. So release has become something I've been practising!

The things I have chosen are:

Sewing - I'm doing some craft fairs this Christmas so am putting my love of sewing to good use, putting the profits into the Snowdrop Appeal. 
Big Noise Choir - 2 hours on a Thursday night where I am completely absorbed doing something fun!
Bootcamp - 3 times a week (on a good week!) where I can scream, grunt, cry and sweat - and shout back at someone!
Visiting Isla's grave - I find peace here because it is such a beautiful place. I shall visit there this week on Thursday, as it is my due date on the 18th. 
















As time goes on hopefully I will find more things that bring me peace. Talking to friends and family about Isla, about my feelings and about things that frustrate me is probably the biggest release but the things above give me those moments of silence in my brain. 

Day 15 Capture Your Grief - Wave of Light

I've had an impossibly miserable today. Feeling incredibly sad, desperate and alone. Lit the candle for Isla while literally arguing with Dan, which felt so very, very wrong. So I post today's photo with a heavy, broken heart. I have no more words tonight.

Day 14 Capture Your Grief - Community

Well this is quite exciting. I wouldn't have had anything to put today really, although I have found the SANDs forums and Babycentre Pregnancy and Infant Loss forums very useful, as well as all the many baby loss blogs I have read and related to.

Until you're IN this community of people who have lost their children, you don't really realise it's there and it's huge. People now tell you about their own losses, recent or from years ago. But still there's a veil of secrecy around it, which is why this project is so good. It's okay to talk about these things, even though talking about a baby dying is one of the most painful things. 

I've recently found out that a number of people have 'unfriended' me or blocked my posts since I lost Isla. Not just since I started this project and posting every day, but since she died 3 months ago. Maybe they find my grief too much to confront. That's fine but I hope those that do read and respond in some way are finding it useful / interesting / fascinating / sad / helpful / inspiring / memorable (delete as appropriate).

Anyway, aside from the huge community of bloggers and forum users, I am organising a community event alongside a friend of mine. We haven't any photos yet but as of yesterday we have a website, sponsorship forms, info pages and safety disclaimers! We are organising a commando-style assault course at Okehampton Camp in Devon in aid of Snowdrop Appeal in memory of Isla and Cure Rett, in celebration of 4 year old Holly who is battling Rett Syndrome. It's going to be such a great day out! 

SAVE THE DATE - SUNDAY 9TH DECEMBER 2012

See our fabulous new website for more details and downloads! http://isla-and-holly.weebly.com. My photo for today is our event poster:

Hopefully the first of many fundraising events!

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 Capture Your Grief - Scents

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 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
(click to enlarge photo)