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.

It's been so long...

I'm not over all this, if that's what you're wondering. Is that even possible?! To be over the death of your child? I don't believe I'll ever be 'over it'.

My mum said it a certain way the other day... Saying you're over something isn't recognising it enough. 'Getting beyond' something implies manouvering around it, rather than it not being there at all; getting beyond it but knowing it's still there and will never go away!  But still putting distance between it and you.

Mum was referring to this poem:

Starlings In Winter

“Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,

even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard, I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.”

- Mary Oliver

I like that idea of getting past something that I am still very much aware of. It's still there and always will be. I'm not 'over it' in the traditional sense but still...

I don't think I'm explaining myself very well.

I miss my amazingly beautiful daughter. I always will. But I can find happiness in my days now. I explain to people I no longer have bad days. Just sad moments in otherwise happy / normal / busy days. And those moments sometimes hit me like a sledgehammer. But I can cope with them now.

I will never be so far from this that I can no longer turn and still see it. I walk past it, tripping and stumbling as I go and it's always there. But I have to be able to carry on.

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 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 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 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 traditional Amazing 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 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.