In Loving Memory of Jeremy

This was the poem that Alisha wrote for Jeremy's funeral.  On August 31st it will be 3 years since he was stillborn, and though in general it gets easier each day, nothing can take away the raw emotion whenever she thinks of him and what could have been.  He was conceived after 3 years of infertility and finally a successful round of IVF.  

Jeremy, my son,

You were my everything,

The miracle I dreamed of

My future in your being.

I couldn’t wait to meet you,

And see who you took after,

Whose eyes you had, whose height,

Whose personality and laughter.

I was going to guide you,

Teach, and watch you grow.

Play with you, and tickle you,

And teach you how to throw.

You would explore and build forts,

Take after Dad and be good at sports.

You’d be handsome, and oh so smart,

But probably not so good at art.

We’d shoot hoops ‘til dark,

Play catch and picnic in the park.

Feed the ducks, go to the zoo,

Have awesome birthday parties, just for you.

I’d make you the coolest wardrobe,

Bake you cookies and treats,

You’d be best friends with Rodrigo,

And Cleo who we’re yet to meet.

We were going to Disneyland,

We’d laugh while waiting in line.

I was going to share my world with you,

As you’re the gift that completed mine.

We built you a beautiful nursery,

Just perfect for my son,

How was I to know,

Your time would never come.

My dreams have been ripped out of me,

You took them when you left,

I’m sure you left for good reason 

And now you are at rest.

All I have is tiny handprints,

And memories in my mind

Of the dreams I’ll never fulfil,

Since you’ll never truly be mine.

My heart will always bleed

For the son I never knew

My Jeremy, my everything

Taken far too soon.

Alisha

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637


Alisha Burns

Alisha is a 35 year old kiwi marketer living in Melbourne and mother of one angel, Jeremy, who was stillborn at 21 weeks in 2012.  Alisha loves exploring the world, impressing people with her ability to walk in 6 inch stilettos, anything Disney, experimenting in the kitchen, pretending she can sing at karaoke. One day she would love a French Bulldog to complete her menagerie if she isn't lucky enough to have children of her own.

Because You’re There For Me Too

In  her first blog for Sands, Annika shares her precious babies and how the Sands online support assisted her in her grief.

"Sands gave me a safe place, an online haven where I could openly grieve 

my little babies and talk about our fears of infertility. "

I have a beautiful son. He is almost five months old now! I can’t believe how fast the time has gone by but I could just stare into his blue eyes all day, every day for the rest of my life. But becoming parents was a long, and emotional journey for us as there were four who came before him.

Four tiny babies who graced this earth for only a brief moment in time. Some, only days, others only weeks. We discovered that the endometriosis I had been dealing with since I was 11 was the cause of our losses and so I underwent surgery at the end of 2013 to remove it. We went through all of this in a city where we had no close friends, and we had no family. 



Annika's Angel tattoo in memory of Baby Pearce

The devastation of losing our biggest baby who stayed with us until only 6 weeks and 1 day was overwhelming and inescapable.  I felt alone, lost, and ripped from motherhood. I tried to find local support groups, anything in my city it help me through the grief but unfortunately I could find nothing available. My loss was too early you see, and therefore I felt that our little baby was insignificant.

Looking back, it is clear that I had mild depression for the better part of 18 months. I couldn't let the pregnancy go and was continuously counting down until the due date, October 25^th 2013. My body was empty, but my mind carried on ticking off the milestones as they came and went. It was exhausting. During that time we saw two more positive pregnancy tests which faded until they too were gone.

I tried to reach out to friends and colleagues but was told countless times that “it wasn't like I lost an actual baby”, that I “needed help” when all I wanted was a hug, that “it was for the best” and that I was just being “impatient”.

I believed them of course. My babies were barely babies. I hadn't lost a “real” baby. I hadn't gone through labour and delivered a still baby. I didn't have a name for them, didn’t know if they were boys or girls. I never saw any of them in any ultrasound. I felt so ashamed for grieving the loss of my babies when I was grieving something that was never really there in the first place. It was very confusing and depressing and I struggled, still struggle with these thoughts.

There were three people who I could talk to about my loss at that point. My husband, my Mum, and someone who unexpectedly has become one of my closest friends. Without her, I’m not sure where I would be in my grief journey, but I am certain I wouldn't be where I am today.

A little over a month earlier she lost her daughter at 39 weeks. She lost her baby girl. She held her daughter in her arms and said hello, then goodbye. But she was the ONE person who told me that mine were real babies too, that they were little lives, not little losses. She was the person who introduced me to Sands.

Sands gave me a safe place, an online haven where I could openly grieve my little babies and talk about our fears of infertility. Speaking with women who had lost babies at all stages of pregnancy and during the neonatal period opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed and it was full of people who just had so much love and support to give, even in their darkest hours. The members of Sands brought me out of a bad place and they gave me hope. But most importantly they gave my babies' little lives recognition. Without any pictures, or proof of ever being pregnant, even for the shortest of time, they still recognized my tiny babies and continue to do so.

The members of Sands are an inspiration. Because of Sands I now have some amazing people in my life who will no doubt always be in my life. And while I can't begin to understand the grief of losing a baby at later stages of pregnancy, even as I watched my closest friend go through exactly that, I am better equipped to give advice and support to them too.

My son is asleep as I write this. There isn't a moment when I am not grateful for the baby we were able to bring home. There are times when I am sad, where I imagine the little people who would be playing in the living room with my son, but I can imagine them and smile through the sadness instead of cry. I am at peace with my losses now and I feel so lucky to be where I am today. Through my son’s pregnancy and with other subsequent pregnancies I know I will continue to have support, and be able to provide support to others. It really doesn't seem enough to say this, but ‘thank you’.

To read more about my journey through miscarriage, TTC, and our rainbow’s pregnancy please visit my blog page at: https://letshaveababybaby.wordpress.com

Annika

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Annika Pearce

My name is Annika and I am a qualified Ambulance Paramedic living in Canberra. I love to be there for others and biology and pre-hospital medicine are a passion I share with my husband, Ben. The light of our lives, Henry, was born at the end of 2014 following a succession of four early miscarriages due to endometriosis. Our biggest Angel, Baby Pearce, who I carried for only 6 weeks at the beginning of 2013 has become the source of my inspiration for blogging and developing a Canberra-based online support group for women who have experienced a pregnancy or neonatal loss. My hope is to create a local support network, where we can share and be there for each other, as Sands created for me. As we begin our journey of conceiving our second rainbow there is still fear, but also hope and excitement.  

You can read Annika's personal blog here

The day our twins were born

Sands blogger Lauren Matheson tells her story of her twins who were born premature

After four rounds of IVF, my husband and I were overjoyed to finally fall pregnant - with twins!   We were eagerly counting down the days until the morphology scan, I’d been feeling anxious and was looking forward to reassurance that everything was ok.  The examination began, and our babies looked perfect.  We were thrilled to discover we were expecting a boy and a girl. When the sonographer commented she couldn’t see my cervix.  I naively asked if this was a problem (honestly I had no idea what this meant). I was told not to worry, as our daughter was sitting low, blocking the view.  Afterwards, a Doctor arrived and asked if she could scan me, I knew then something wasn’t right.  

The next few hours passed quickly. I was diagnosed with an Incompetent Cervix (seriously who comes up with these names?!), and was rushed to hospital where I was admitted and taken straight to the antenatal ward. My Obstetrician came to see us, and it wasn’t until she began discussing the viability of our babies and when/if intervention would occur that the reality of our situation sank in.  

We decided I would be scanned again in a few days, and I would stay in hospital on strict bed rest and medication. However just two days later I woke with a dull ache stretching across my belly.  Initially I was given panadol for relief, however it soon became clear I was having contractions.  Laying on the bed waiting to be examined the contractions quickly intensified and I couldn’t lay still. My Doctor struggled to confirm what I already suspected, I was in labour and 3cm dilated.  At 20 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I asked the question I already knew the answer to “Am I losing our babies?”.

The next few hours are a blur.  Spaced out on pethadine, I remember being taken to the birth suites while my contractions gained strength and frequency. I can remember watching the seconds tick by, counting down to the next contraction and also hoping they would miraculously disappear.  Our daughter arrived quickly. She was wrapped up and passed to me, where I cuddled her for the short time she was with us. My husband was by my side the whole time and I remember feeling selfish, that he didn’t hold her whilst she was alive. Not long later our baby boy arrived sleeping.  

Back in my room,  I watched my husband making calls to our family, whispering words we never thought we’d say.  

Our babies sharing a cot, were next to my bed. They were dressed in tiny clothes, our daughter in pink and our son in blue.  They each had a beautiful quilt, and knitted teddy nestled beside them.  Initially I was too scared to hold them and I just stared at their tiny bodies as the tears fell.  Eventually I picked them up, and held them close to my chest, I was overwhelmed with love for my babies.  For the next 24 hours my husband and I tried to absorb their every detail, and we took hundreds of photos in the process.  We held them, undressed and washed their tiny bodies.   I become obsessed with keeping them warm, and continuously redressed and wrapped them together in soft blankets. It was also important to us that they stay together, I didn’t want them to be scared and alone.  The following day I was discharged, but I couldn’t leave.  With each cuddle and kiss I told myself this will be the last one, I would then leave, but I couldn’t.  Eventually we left the hospital, with empty arms.    

In the days that followed, I became consumed searching for information about why this had happened and what could be done to prevent it. 

I came across SANDS early in my search and contacted the Brisbane office. I wasn’t sure what to expect, or what I wanted in return when I sent that first email. I just knew I needed to reach out to someone, anyone, who may have some kind of understanding of what we were going through.  I received a reply quickly, and was comforted by their words, by the acknowledgement from an ‘outsider’ that our babies existed and were special.  While we didn’t utilise the support services, we were comforted in the knowledge they were available if we needed them.   

It’s now been three years and our grief hasn’t gone away. Instead it has changed and we have learnt how to cope so we can continue to live our lives.  I think we will always hold onto ‘What If’ and we find this especially hard on their birthday and holidays.  

Their memories are never far from our thoughts and they hold a special place in our hearts so they are always with us.

More about Lauren

Lauren lives in sunny Queensland with her two little boys, husband and dog. She is also a Mum to twins who were born premature and sadly passed away in 2011.  She loves baking, books, coffee and reading the occasional trashy gossip mag. You can find her over at her blog Create Bake Make.

For Support call: 1300 0 72637

Sands have a suite of brochures available you maybe interested in the following:

When a Baby Has Died

Creating Memories