Thursday, 29 October 2015

Heartbreak and Sadness - Monyth

Monyth talks about how no one had prepared her partner and herself about the feelings of heartbreak and sadness following an early pregnancy loss

It all started from our very first scan at 8 weeks. I still remember the radiographer’s face didn’t look that good. Then she said she will call the doctor to have a look. Then they decided to send me home and to make an appointment with my GP. After that, we needed to do another scan two weeks later. The second radiologist explained it to  us in a  bit more detail. Both radiologists asked me if I ever had bleeding and I said no. But that doesn’t mean I’m safe from the risk of losing our baby, since we can’t find our baby’s heartbeat.

That night I still remember how worried I was. I couldn’t sleep almost all night. I searched for an answer from the internet. I found the answer that I’m looking for:  it is called blighted ovum. This is a condition when the sac is growing but the baby is not developing. That’s why we couldn’t find our baby’s heartbeat earlier.

The next day, we saw our GP and he explained to us with the diagram and said that I have a blighted ovum. My nightmare became reality now. I tried to put on my brave face, we went home and cried. The most devastating news we ever heard.

The following day, we saw a specialist from the Early Assessment Pregnancy Unit. She did another scan for us before making decision. I thought I still had another little hope, if we could see our baby, but no luck as well with the last scan. That’s our last hope gone forever.

Then the specialist discussed  our options. I chose surgery -  D & C. The night before our surgery I started bleeding. That made me realise how naturally my body is working.
The next day my husband and I waited in the waiting room with so many other people. We were waiting anxiously. I know I will lose our baby after this surgery. Finally the nurse called me up at 4PM.

I woke up at 6:00 PM in the strange place, the nurse start talking to me and asked if I am ok. Of course I am not ok.  I feel so empty and sad.

Then they started to wheel my bed to the recovery room and she asked me if I wanted her to call my husband. I said yes. My husband came straight away as he had been waiting anxiously for the last two hours and thinking there was something wrong with me. We had a chat and he brought me a teddy bear and choc chips muffins to cheer me up. Then they sent me home.

A few days later I went back to work again. I have  time to think in the morning, while I drove to work. I was thinking on my way to work, and by the time I got into the carpark, I burst into tears -  so many questions in my head but I don’t have the answers.  Why did this happen to us? Is there any way I could have prevented this  happening? Is ther any way I could have protect our baby more? If this has never happened what would our baby have been like? So many questions are running through my head.

So many people said to us to move on. I just want to scream at them,  and I said to them to leave me alone. Only two people really understood my feelings, my husband and my sister. With my so many tears over the months, I tried to be strong.

One Sunday morning, I saw a photo of my friend with his wife and they had their beautiful baby shower. It just broke my heart. I cried almost all day, until my mother in law called me. She just listened to my sob for almost half an hour. Her words of caring and understanding comfort me and ease my pain in my heart.

After I hung up the phone, I contact this lovely lady from Sands Tasmania by email. Her name is Lyndy, she replied to my email almost straight away. I started write my email and felt so close to her straight away. She said to me to give myself all the time I need to grieve and never lose hope for the future.

I was contacting “Little BIG LOVE” author, Danielle Loy. Danielle is so lovely, she sent me a copy of her book, because she knows I really need to read her book. So many stories from different women, stories about their pregnancy losses and hopes for the future. Their stories open my heart and help me to realise not to give up on my future. Thank you Danielle for sharing your stories and writing the book for us.

Another day, another heartbreaking experience:  my work colleagues discussing about their future baby and future niece or nephew… I am always thinking why they do that? So many people are so insensitive.

I had a discussion with one of my colleagues. She also had experience with miscarriage, so she is understanding about my feelings.  All my feelings are so raw since I had the miscarriage not so long ago.  She also gave me encouragement to be strong and hope for the future.

I keep saying to myself almost every single day, “Be Strong Mon, you can do it” …. You will get through this.

I want to share a little story about Hope… we chose our special name for our baby : “Baby Hope”.  It means hope for our future baby and hope for our future, for our little family that hopefully will grow with our kids someday. I am always thinking that baby Hope also watches us from heaven now.  Realise that we always love you. 

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Monyth Wayth
My Name is Mon Wayth. I am based in Hobart with my husband Ash. We moved to Hobart about 3 years ago from Melbourne, while we met and got married in a beautiful lavender farm. We have one angel baby name Hope and one little cute dog name Spotty. At the moment I am working through my dreams to open my future dream café in Hobart. I am trying to keep my mind busy, so I am not feeling so sad and empty in my heart, even though sometimes it is so hard to keep to do so. Baby Hope is still going to be part of our extraordinary life and make us grow stronger as a couple and as long as we have each other, we will be fine.

Thursday, 22 October 2015

Stages by Jess L

The following was a piece Jess wrote many many months ago. Reading it back now is hard because she remembers how she felt when she wrote it, dark, betrayed, hopeless…she still has those days now though they’re further and farther in between. She's posting this because she think it’s important to reflect on your journey, even the bad moments and while now at almost 12 months after their loss they are still no closer to expanding their family,she thinks it’s still important to share this. This piece is in no way a reflection of who she is or how she feels 99% of the time.

I’ve decided to write about my stages of living with grief. I’m not sure if/when I’ll ever post this….I suppose it depends on the outcome.

I never wanted to be anything other than a Mum, literally! Sure, now I have a few ideas as to what I’d like to do when I ‘grow up’ but my whole life, that has been my one goal. I’m so very fortunate to be a stay at home Mum to my now 2 year old boy Adam, but it’s 2015. I turn 30 in 2 months!!!

I had always planned to be DONE by 30. 2 or 3 kids under my belt, looking far into the future beyond kids. But now, 7 months (today) after the loss of our daughter at 39 weeks, I’m stuck! I spoke earlier about stages, I call this stage just what it is, Trying to Conceive.
Since our angel was born we agreed that we wanted to try again. As scared stiff as we are about what could happen, bottom line is we wanted our family! Moreover, a sibling (or 2) for our boy. I’ve been an avid blog/article reader since Emma was born. Some have lifted my spirits, some broken my heart all over again. There seems to be a lot of material out there for pregnancy after loss but what about try to conceive? What about when you feel that getting pregnant again will help you heal, help you deal better with all your friends new babies and the overabundance of pregnant women wherever you look!! And what if you can’t have that? What if what you wanted was taken from you as was the ability to conceive again? I’m not saying this will be the case for us, we have terrific doctors who are helping us at every opportunity. I’m positive it will happen eventually but for now it feels like the clock is tick, tick, ticking away.

When some friends announced their pregnancies shortly after Emma was born I was upset but always thought, ‘I’ll be pregnant again by then anyway, it’ll be ok.’ But one will be born this Friday and another in a couple of weeks….and here’s me, 7 months without my baby in my arms or in my body. Today feels hopeless, like nothing matters and it never will. Stay tuned for stage 2….


If you require support after reading this blog please contact
Sands on 13 000 72637

Jessica Lawless

Jessica lives in Victoria. She is the wife to Shane and a Mum to 2 beautiful kids - Adam, nearly 2 and Emma, born sleeping August 2014.

I like to practice yoga, cook, read and spend all my time being a SAHM with Adam. My family and friends are my whole world, there is barley a distinction between the two.
I hope by being so open and honest about my experiences I can help raise awareness and provide support for others.

Thursday, 15 October 2015

In Loving Memory of Thomas Bowden - Lyndy

In her first blog post, read about how Lyndy marked a special, but heartbreaking milestone – her precious son, Thomas’s 18th birthday.

This year marked a very special time in my life, I turned 50 and my precious son Thomas turned 18. I will tell you a little of my story. Thomas Bowden was born on the 20th August 1997. Unfortunately Thomas was diagnosed with HRHS, a condition where the right ventricle of the heart is underdeveloped and Transposition of the Great Arteries (TGA) at 26 weeks gestation.
The specialists all believed that Thomas would survive, but would require surgery. Thomas was born by C-section in our small hometown of Hobart Tasmania. He looked a picture of health, 9lb 15 oz of pure joy.
However, not long after he was born things started to go wrong. Thomas was placed on a ventilator and flown 600km away by air ambulance to the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne for treatment. On day 3, Thomas underwent a 10 hour surgery, the first of what was to be many surgeries. For 24 hours following Thomas heart surgery things went so well, he was placed on at least 20 different machines doing so many different things to keep him alive.
Day 4 brought with it a special celebration. When I arrived at Thomas's bed that morning there was a special card saying "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUMMY LOVE THOMAS", what a beautiful gift. The day went along smoothly until around dinner time when suddenly machines started to beep everywhere. Doctors were called but in my mind I still believed everything would be okay. More machines beeped and alarms went off. Code Blue is called and people come from everywhere to try and save Thomas's life. I paced, I cried, in my mind I screamed, how could I stand here and watch this happen to my child, my baby. This will always be something I later regret, I left the room. I was placed in a small room for what seemed like an eternity but in reality probably was not. I remember the Doctor entering the room but still to this day I cannot remember him telling me Thomas had died.
For all I remember is that sound, the sound that came deep from within me, the sound of my heart breaking, the sound that only a parent who has a child die can truly understand.
When I returned from Melbourne a friend told me about Sands. I needed to be able to talk with people who understood my pain and what my journey would now be like without Thomas in my life. Over the past nearly 18 years Sands has been by my side, supporting me and acknowledging that grief is a lifetime journey. Sands gave me hope and understanding.
Over the years, I have thought about long and hard about what I could do to mark this very special but heartbreaking birthday. I could have organised a party, or had a special dinner but I needed to do something that had meaning, something that could make a difference, something that allowed others to celebrate Thomas’s life.
I came across a site called Everyday Hero. The title of the page resinated with me, for Thomas is my hero, I am the person I am today because of Thomas’s existence, however brief it was.
I decided that I would seek donations for Sands in memory of Thomas’s 18th Birthday. Setting up Everyday Hero was so easy, I needed that, I didn’t want anything complicated for me or for the people that were going to donate. I was not sure how it would go but set a target of $500, sent the link to all my friends and family and was truly overwhelmed with the generosity by my loved ones, and even people that I didn’t know. Together we raised $798 for Sands. To me this page meant so much, to be able to give back to Sands in memory of my beautiful son. There are no words to describe how this felt, but I will say I felt privileged that Thomas meant so much to so many people. 
A poem for Thomas:
In the quiet of the night I remember like it was yesterday..... and as the tears fall softly down my cheek I think of how you felt in my arms and how you smelt like the sweetest spring day..... the bond between parent and child is so powerful...I wish beyond wishes that things were different but as a wise person once said...." When you accept what has happened, you aren't acknowledging that it is okay but rather, that you know you must find a way to keep growing and living - even if you don't feel like it...Don't let grief be your constant companion...Realize that your grief is born out of unconditional love for your child and rejoice in that love which will never end... Embracing life again is not a sign that you have stopped missing your baby, but an example of a love that is eternal" 

 I love you and miss you Thomas Anthony Bowden 
20/08/97 ~ 24/08/97
Thank you for taking the time to read about my Thomas. If you would like to create a tribute page for your baby like I did, click on the link below and sign up.


If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Thursday, 8 October 2015

Dealing with Jealousyby Larissa

Lairssa again shares with us her thoughts on Dealing with Jealousy.

    'Jealousy is just one of a range of emotions that I’ve had to deal with more than 
    I expected after my baby died. It’s been over two years of struggling but I’ve 
    started to see a way through: recognise, accept and let go. It’s not always easy 
    but it is always worth it!'

When your baby dies, you lose so much more than just them. When my first baby, a daughter, was stillborn, I lost trust in my body and in my instincts, I lost the future I had planned and I lost my innocence. Pregnancy no longer holds the same certainty; there is no “when the baby comes home” but “if the baby comes home”. I’ve had two pregnancies since Ariella’s death and while I have been excited, I have also been hesitant. I know there are no guarantees so I simply cannot get as excited about pregnancy as I did the first time.

I feel like I have made peace with this new reality. I do feel saddened that I cannot be as excited about my pregnancies as I once was, but that’s just part of my new reality. I’m ok with that. What I’m not as ok with is the fact that this hesitation, this lack of excitement, also applies to my friends’ pregnancies. I watch them eagerly prepare for their new babies and I wish it was me. The joyful baby showers, happy glow, fully prepared nurseries… all things I once had but don’t know if I’ll have again. And that’s when it creeps in.


What is it about that feeling that seems worse than others? Since Ariella died I have felt many of the harsher emotions, including anger and guilt. I’ve come to terms with them and know how to deal with them when they arise. But jealousy? I’m not used to that yet. I still feel so uncomfortable when the twinges begin. It’s been two and a half years and I am only just starting to work out how to handle this particular emotion: recognise, allow, let go.

Firstly, I recognise which situations are likely to cause jealousy. If I knew a friend was going to have a baby I prepared myself for the mix of emotions that would arrive along with the baby. I knew I would be happy for my friends and relieved for a safe arrival but I’ve also learned to expect a twinge of jealousy too. Recognising that it is likely to appear takes the sudden sting out of it and therefore makes it easier to handle.

Secondly, I allow myself to feel it. I used to suppress it whenever I could, thinking that it wasn’t something I was allowed to feel. After all, isn’t jealousy a bad thing? But all that did was make the jealousy linger and make me feel worse. It was very freeing when someone wise told me that it’s ok to feel jealousy, in our situation it is a normal response! When someone else has what I desperately wish for - a living baby - it’s only human to feel jealous. Allowing myself to feel whatever emotion pops up (including jealousy) frees me from feeling guilty about my natural reactions; this makes it easier to get to the final stage of handling my jealousy.

The third thing I have learned to do is to let go. It’s so much easier said than done! I’ve done a lot of thinking about jealousy lately and I realised that while I accept it and allow myself to feel it, holding onto the feeling of jealousy only does harm. It impacts on my relationship with friends as it can hold me back from them and it steals my happiness. I’ve found the best way to deal with jealousy is the hardest: let it go. For me that means acknowledging that it’s there: naming it, sitting with it and accepting that is how I feel. And then I choose to set it aside, to look for the positives in the situation. As hard as it can be to see healthy, living babies, I have always loved babies and do see them as a blessing. So when a friend has a baby, I’ve learnt to move through the jealousy and find the positives. 

Jealousy is just one of a range of emotions that I’ve had to deal with more than I expected after my baby died. It’s been over two years of struggling but I’ve started to see a way through: recognise, accept and let go. It’s not always easy but it is always worth it!


If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Larissa Genat
Larissa is a wife to Marcus and a mother to two beautiful children – Ariella Jade in

Heaven and Levi William in her arms. She loves spaghetti bolognaise and the smell of rain, but neither of them could make her smile when, after a textbook pregnancy, Ariella unexpectedly died at 39 weeks gestation. No reason was ever found for her death. Soon after Ariella’s death Larissa began writing. You can find her posts at

Deeper Still (  and on Still Standing Magazine (