Now and Then by Bex

Before her, I took Motherhood for granted. I took everything for granted. That was when I lived in the ignorant, blissful “then” days. That’s all changed and I live in the “now”.

I wasn’t supposed to be able to have children, yet I found myself pregnant at 20. It was easy. My daughter was born, and life went on.
Twelve years later I met my soulmate, and fell pregnant. At 34 years old I was happy, it was smooth sailing. Still, it was a surprise just six months later, when I discovered I was pregnant again. There was a few overwhelming moments but we were excited. We started planning....
Just before our first scan I started spotting. Nothing major, I was reassured, and no one was overly concerned. This was only emphasised when we made it to the scan and saw our little bean happily bouncing about, her heart beating away. We were told after seeing the heartbeat we dropped down to 10% miscarriage risk. Relief.

A couple of weeks later the spotting returned, so I went back to my doctor. She sent me for another scan, and the sonographer was a lovely, older lady. The minutes ticked by as she rolled the Doppler over my belly. She said nothing, and I scanned her face for any sign of what she was feeling, or thinking. My anxious brain was screaming, “Please say something!!!” She didn’t.

The place where my baby was before was a black empty space. My baby had disappeared.

I felt instantly nauseous, like a million butterflies had settled in my chest, as she swapped to the internal Doppler. I looked at the screen and saw her. The saddest sight, our little girl, curled up into a ball in the deepest, darkest part of my womb. The sonographer apologised, and let us know she was gone, there was no heart beat.

I felt multiple emotions all at once. As fast as they came I locked them away. I asked the sonographer if she was ok, the look on her face was one of devastation and discomfort at having to tell us our baby had died. My husband squeezed my hand, poor thing what else could he do? We never imagined this could happen to us.

It seems our baby had died two days after our first scan. I carried her tiny body without a clue she had died . The next few days passed in a painful blur. When I left the hospital without her I felt lost and empty.
My life is now split into two...before we experienced baby loss, and the life we now have to lead without her. Now and then. Some days I hate living here in the now, and would give anything to go back to then.


♡ RIP Emmah Jae Lampe 10/3/2010

Bex

If you require support after reading this blog, please contact Sands on 1300 072 637

Bex Lampe

Bex lives on the surf coast in Victoria. She is wife to Gav and mum to four Earth side

babies. Emmah and Flynn are her two angels. Bex is also a first time Grandma! She recently achieved a Diploma of counselling and is hoping to complete her Diploma of Community Services this year. Currently a stay home mum with three little ones, she’s hoping to get back to the outside world next year. 

Bex has two rainbow babies born after her miscarriages. They were born with severe congenital conditions. Congenital Heart defects for her eldest son and Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia for her youngest. Both requiring birth into NICUs and major surgeries. 

Bex has worked as an AIN in Aged, Disability, and Dementia care, as a private disability nurse and also as an assistant to a prison chaplain with the Salvation Army. She has also been an artist and a poet. Bex loves to help people and hopes to help many bereaved parents with her experiences. 

Her dream is to be published again, and to one day write a book. 

Hearts That Were Broken, Hearts That Have Healed - Edwina

It’s almost eleven years since my son Teddy came, then left three days later. He was my much-longed-for third child, but from early on in my pregnancy with him, I knew something wasn’t right. One day on my morning walk I got a message loud and clear – “Don’t get too attached, this one won’t be with you long”. I was still in my first trimester, so I thought I was going to miscarry. I tried to shake the feeling, put it out of my mind as an unreasonable fear, but it persisted even as I carried him all the way to full term. A few days before he was born I had a nightmare, the last words I heard before waking were, “And the baby’s dead too.”

        As his birth approached though, I was filled with a deep sense of calm. I spent many hours in meditation, something I’d been able to do easily ever since his conception. When he finally arrived, born in water into my own arms, he was slow to come around, but my experienced midwife and I worked together and soon he was breathing and a healthy glowing pink. I was ecstatic, my beautiful boy was here at last. All my bad dreams and messages were just fears.

        But then that night in my bed at home I started to worry. Unlike my other babies who’d been voracious feeders, he was struggling to stay awake at my breast and not getting much milk. My midwife visited and checked him out and helped me to get him to feed. But another night passed without him feeding properly. I lay him on my knees facing me and asked him what was going on. I told him to make a decision – that I was here and would love him forever no matter what, but to please just eat.

        My midwife visited again and together we got him to have the best feed he’d yet been able to manage and lay him beside me on the bed. Not long after she left, I noticed that Teddy was lying very still beside me. That his lips looked blue. I picked him up and ran through the house calling for help, for God, for anyone, to please, please help me. My sister who was staying rang the midwife and got her to return, then called the ambulance as I began to resuscitate him. Together my midwife and I pumped his tiny heart and breathed for him until the ambulance arrived and took over. Cutting through his jumpsuit and attaching electrodes, shooting him full of adrenaline. Nothing worked. He’d made his decision. They say that every moment is perfect. The moment of your child’s death feels very, very far from that.

        Teddy was my third child and the third member of my family I’d lost in traumatic circumstances. My father had died after a long ugly battle with cancer when he was only 42. My younger brother killed himself to end the suffering of his mental illness when he was 20. Then came Teddy, my little three-day baby who died of a congenital heart defect. I thought I’d finished my dance with death and grieving. Teddy made me face all of it again.

        And I’ve learnt more in the years since he’s come and gone than I ever hope to learn again. Luckily, I had been practising yoga for many years when he died, so every day I got onto my mat and cried out my pain. I learned that it was better to cry a little bit every day than wait until I couldn’t hold it in anymore and explode in unrelenting sobs. I learned that by sending out love and comfort to all the other women in the world, both now and back through time who knew the same loss, that I too was somehow mysteriously comforted. I learned that if I wrote in my journal about my grief, about Teddy, about how angry I was, how awful it felt, how afraid I was of facing other people and their fat healthy babies, of the hate and rage and hopelessness, or if I drew out my pain using pens and paint, drew hearts that were broken and hearts that had mended, that if I let myself feel my grief and cry some more, I was helping myself to heal.


        I learned that in Bali, if a baby dies before it’s six months old, it’s buried in a special cemetery and revered as a god. That helped. When I think of Teddy now, I see him as a great white angel standing with me and with all the mothers who have lost their babies. He is standing with me now. Just as your babies are standing with you.

If you require support after reading this blog please contact 

Sands on 13 000 72637

Edwina Shaw

Edwina Shaw is a Queensland writer. Her first book Thrill Seekers, based on her brother’s adolescent battle with schizophrenia, was shortlisted for the 2012 NSW Premier’s Award for New Writing.  In the Dark of Night, her recently released children’s chapter book, is part of a nationwide library promotion – Summer Reading Club 2016/17. She has been widely published in Australian and international journals, including Best Australian Stories 2014. She writes regularly for UPLIFT Connect and published an article on The Gifts of Grief there http://upliftconnect.com/the-gifts-of-grief/
Edwina teaches yoga and writing at universities in Brisbane, and innovative workshops combining both. She also teaches specialised workshops combing yoga, writing and other creative arts to help ease the pain of loss.
She can be booked through SpeakersInk
http://www.speakers-ink.com.au/speakers/edwina-shaw
You can also find her at her website http://www.edwinashaw.com
On Twitter https://twitter.com/EdwinaShaw1

And Facebook https://www.facebook.com/EdwinaShawauthor

Two Years on..by Jess

I’ve had the words rolling around and around in my head for months, I’m finding it particularly hard to articulate my thoughts 2 years on. There may be no real point to the following, it may seem like rambles, but here goes…

How can it have been 2 years already?!! 2 years since you entered the world so silently, 2 years since we looked on your beautiful face, kissed your closed eyes and ruby red lips. 2 years since we held your hands and said goodbye. 2 years since a little piece of me died with you.

I never thought I’d feel truly happy again, never thought I could experience contentment again…I’m still on the fence about contentment but we have been blessed enough to feel pure joy welcoming your little sister into the world! She was the spitting image of you, seeing her sleeping soundly in that hospital cot was both elating and unsettling. Walking her through our front door and placing her in the bassinet we made up for you felt the same. You would adore little Belle Emma. You would have been a doting big sister, so proud of your little baby…I suppose. We’ll never know. Most likely Belle would never have been born had you lived, we would probably have carried on with life as normal. Complaining of the lack of sleep, the cost of nappies, the seemingly trivial day to days of raising a family. Losing you gave us a perspective that you can only gain from losing a child. That’s not to say that we don’t complain about the sleep deprivation, we’re only human after all.

Since bringing our 3^rd child  Belle home, every second of my day is filled with some form of craziness and yet I still think of Emma every one of those seconds. After she died all I wanted was to be pregnant again, thinking it would fix or at least help repair the hole in me. About 13 months after Emma was born I finally fell pregnant and it was beautiful. My pregnancy was such a breeze (physically, not emotionally) and really in a way, healing. I proved to myself that I could do it, that my body could get through it.

When I look into Belle’s eyes I look for Emma and she’s not there. Belle is a little version of me just like her big brother (now nearly 4), only she has her Dad’s beautiful blue eyes instead of my brown. Those eyes kill me. They are the most beautiful eyes you’ll ever see, when I look into those eyes I feel her love for me and I feel our connection. I also feel that hole inside me opening back up. I never got to look into Emma’s eyes. Would they have been brown like mine or blue like her Dads? Another unknown.

Bringing Belle home was a monumental moment. We finally brought our baby home…but it also brought home that Emma will never come home. Belle, Adam, any other children we might have are not Emma, they never will be Emma. She is lost to us forever. It sounds ridiculous but I never realised it until I placed our precious bundle into that bassinet that I lovingly made up for Emma but never used for her. She’s never coming home. For the rest of my life I’ll miss her and I’ll be missing a piece of myself. Adam will be missing his little sister and Belle will never have her big sister to grow up with.

Some days I’m ok with this, some days, like today, it’s more than I can bear to think about.

Happy Birthday baby girl xx  

Jess

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.

A Dad's Thoughts on Father's Day

As we approach Father’s Day, Sands Volunteer Parent Supporter, Chris Tsockallos reflects on what Father’s Day is like for him.

Eleven years ago, my wife delivered twins at 19 weeks gestation and our lives were completely shattered. After many years of fertility treatment to achieve this pregnancy, we didn’t even know if we could get pregnant again. We didn’t know if we would ever be parents to a living child. Our feelings of grief and loss were so overwhelming in those first few weeks and months, we needed to take time to physically and emotionally deal with what we were going through.

We first heard about Sands through the hospital. We attended a number of support meetings and I spoke to bereaved fathers at the meetings who were very supportive. I got to hear about their journeys through this difficult time.

Sometimes men may find it harder to open up as they feel they may need to be strong through this difficult period. In a lot of cases the father may be the financial provider and he may need to return to work.

Significant days like anniversaries, holidays, and Father’s Day can bring up very mixed emotions. For bereaved fathers, Father’s Day is a challenging day which may bring up feelings of great emotional sadness.

Each father deals with their loss in different ways. I like to spend part of my day on my own with my thoughts of my children who are not here with me on the day. Each Father’s Day we visit our twins at the cemetery. Although I think about our twins every day, on Father’s Day I like to be as close as I can with them and to reflect on my love for them and the place they hold in my heart. To me this is a time when I feel the closest to them.

Father’s Day is a day of emotional contrast for me. I get to celebrate the day with my ten year old daughter while at the same time reflect on my children who are not with me.

Some fathers may like to keep busy and active through physical recreation or surround themselves with family. Each dad has their own way of dealing with Father’s Day.

The one thing I have learned through grieving for our twins is not to be afraid to let your emotions out. If you need to cry or feel sad do it. Also don’t be afraid to ask for help. Talk to your partner. Let her know how you are feeling. If you have a family member or friend who will listen, talk to them about how you are feeling.  Please also remember that Sands has a dedicated Men’s Support Line where you can speak to other bereaved Dads who have a level of empathy that others males may not have. Talking to someone who has gone through a similar experience can be of huge help.

It is also important to communicate with your partner and be there for each other.

Every day I think about our twins. I wonder what they would have been like. I feel sad that they are not here with us. However they are always in my heart. While I am saddened by our loss, at the same time I feel thankful for our daughter who has brought so much joy into our lives.

Chris Tsockallos

If you require support after reading this blog please contact 

Sands on 1300 072 637

Eleven years ago, my wife delivered twins at 19 weeks gestation and our lives were completely shattered. After many years of fertility treatment to achieve this pregnancy, we didn’t even know if we could get pregnant again. We didn’t know if we would ever be parents to a living child. Our feelings of grief and loss were so overwhelming in those first few weeks and months, we needed to take time to physically and emotionally deal with what we were going through.

Sands were extremely supportive to my wife and myself after the loss of our twins. We attended a number of support meetings and I spoke to bereaved dads at the meetings who were very helpful. I got to hear about their journey through this difficult time. Speaking to them was invaluable.

Now it is time for me to give back to Sands. As a Sands Volunteer Parent Supporter I think I can help other dads through such a difficult time.

You can read more about Chris here.

A Story of a Medical Termination by Zena

To the newly bereaved parent,

Please know that you're not alone. I want to share my story of medical termination.

This was extremely hard to write and share, in a world full of supportive people we have certainly felt alone because it's such a taboo and people are scared to talk about anything to do with the loss of a child. Unfortunately,  we live in a world where, we as humans, are judged for what shoes we wear, what house we live in and whether we like boys or girls so when we had to make a heartbreaking choice,  it became apparent that we would be fearful of what people would think.

The reality is that you are not in our shoes and you never will be. Even if you have to take the same path as us your story will still be different. Although we wish this would never happen to anyone the reality is once you get outside the bubble you live in it's everywhere, people are silently grieving, too afraid to let people know what's going on because they are scared of judgement. I've met some of the strongest mothers and heard their stories, some full term, miscarriages and medical terminations, the way people treat their child as if they don't exist weeks after they went through the toughest struggles is appalling. It took me almost 12 months to grieve my best friend passing away, she was my puppy of 15 years. ’’Getting over” a child passing away will not happen in weeks, months or years because you don't "get over them",  they are a part of you forever. I feel If we share her story and someone you know or perhaps years down the track your children or children children’s have to face something like this you might be able to say that you knew people who went through this and you know that they survived and made it through.

This story is about our daughter Chloe who is no longer in my tummy we should be around 8 months pregnant today but sadly I am not. In a few weeks I would be on maternity leave and instead we are trying to find our "new normal". This story is about 10 weeks of survival, learning how strong your marriage is, courage, loyalty, friendships, love and a $h!t unfair situation. It's not being posted for you to feel sorry for us we have done enough of that for ourselves but more for awareness. #breakthesilence. It's to help us in our grieving process because bumping into people in the street that don't know our story is terrifying.

On the 30th of April 2016 we should have been welcoming a precious bundle of joy into our lives listening to her cry, changing her nappy, watching her smile and grow and instead we will release balloons and blow out candles cake on behalf of her. We we're faced with decision that we would never wish upon anyone, we planned a funeral when others listened to their babies beautiful cry and we set a baby room up for our little girl and this room remains empty. She was sent to be with the angels at only 21 weeks gestation.

Her name is Chloe Fay Mason. She is the daughter of Troy and Zena Mason and although you can't physically see her in our arms she existed. She was 26cm the same length as a big cordial bottle. She had my nose and the rest of her was her daddy. She had long feet and hands, little specs of blonde hair and she was ours. Made with love! And certainly missed already.

On the 10th of December we went for our 20 week scan (5 months) right on Troy's birthday.What a cool present this would be to find out if our baby was to be a girl or a boy right?? We're in the "safe" zone what could possibly go wrong. The ultrasound person couldn't tell us the sex though he did mention that the baby yawned and waved at us, he failed to mention why he was paying particular attention to her spine and brain, he was actually silent the whole way through. Little did we know that this was the start of something much bigger.

We were surprised when we were called into Mater hospital on the 14th December and this is we're we would be told that we we're having a baby girl and than hit with information that our little Chloe was not well. She had Spina Bifida, Hydrocephalus, Chiari Malformation, Arnold Chairi 2.

What this basically meant to us without a doctors degree is she had a lot of spinal fluid on her brain (lemon shaped head), they could see issues with her spine and an open pocket on her back exposing her spinal cord, this pocket normally closes off during the first few weeks of being conceived. We were told if she were to survive (they weren't sure) and even make it to full term she would be straight into the operation theatre at not even a day old to have a permanent stint put into her brain to drain the fluid build up that she would forever have, she would then go into an operation to close the opening on her spine to stop her exposed spinal cords from showing and getting infected. This wouldn't fix the problem though the damage already happened when she was 2-4 weeks gestation. Although some might live with this, their story is not ours and we're all not the same.

We walked into that room wanting to find out the sex of the baby and walked out with a heavy heart and what felt like a house sitting on our shoulders. The doctor told us the outlook on her life would be grim.  She would be brain dead, she wouldn't be able to walk, we would be changing nappies for the rest of her life and she would be in a wheelchair.  The doctor gave us two chooses 1. medical termination or 2. we continue on and "if" she makes it full term we would have support. I used to think the hardest decision I would have with a child was what school they would go to or whether or not to breastfeed. But choosing whether your child should die or stay alive is by far the hardest!

We waited for the doctor to write up all this information in a room full of happily expecting pregnant ladies but we were distraught, our brains were going one million miles an hour and we still had to drive home. When we got home we were silent we had no idea what to do.  Googling what we had heard had never seemed so important and some how Troy and I had to come together in the end to be on the same page. I searched spina bifida pages and I found all the fabulous stories of the children who have parts of Chloe's diagnosis but what I had to realise is everyone's stories are different and no one shares the "terrible" stories. What heartache the parents went through or what the child had to go through. We just hoped the doctors weren't incorrect.

After many consultations with doctors and lots of tears we chose to take the pain now so our Chloe didn't have to. We didn't want to bring a child into the world just to have her exist without living. Would she even know that we existed? What life would she have? The guilt we live with everyday would never be as painful as it would be to watch as she grew without "growing". I've been in retirement homes and I've seen young people in here who can't fend for themselves is this what she would be like? A board of doctors had to approve our decision and when they did I was admitted to the hospital it was so close to Christmas. After waiting and contractions after contractions I went had Chloe via L&D the morning of the 19th December (right in between Troy’s and my  birthday) with limited pain relief - I felt I needed to take some pain for our little girl. And I will tell you now the labour stories people gave me when I was pregnant will never scare me because nothing can quite prepare you for birth of your baby let alone to a little angel. 

When little Chloe was put into our arms we couldn't celebrate because this is what ended her life,  she didn't cry, she didn't move, she was cold and we were numb. We spent a full day with her, dressed her, gave her kisses because she was our beautiful girl and this would be the last time we would ever see her and those moments will have to last a lifetime.

She had the obvious signs of her diagnosis, a lemon shaped malformed skull and the spina bifida sacral lesion on her back. Everything else we were told of would have to wait till the autopsy was done. We can't get any of those moments back but we were lucky enough to get precious photos of her from heartfelt photography so we can never forget her face. She had family and friends visit her as well as flowers and cards from beautiful people across the state. Chloe got cuddles from her aunties and uncles and grandma.

Every day after we woke up and we wished it was all a big nightmare I would look down at my tummy and see a belly that was empty. I only recognised her movements after she was no longer in me. If going through labour wasn't enough, your hormones are so messed up and to make matters worse the breast lk decides it might pay a visit.

Life sucked completely for the first month after she was born. Even though you have just had a baby people fail to realise that you should be taking it easy because there is no physical sign of a child. Conversations are awkward because no one knows what to say and everyone looks at you with sad eyes. The simplest of tasks are a big effort and some days I felt like I was a two year old chucking a tantrum. I couldn't have got through with my amazing husband. 

Chloe was in getting her autopsy done and this would take 3 weeks. On my birthday we were asked if they could keep her brain and spine as they were running behind. We told them to take their time in hope it might shed some more light. We never imagined our pregnancy to end this way, after all no one shares the terrible stories.

Each week was something new first we had to find items to have with her for the cremation, visiting her in her itty bitty coffin with all the special effects that grandmas and aunts had provided (photos of her cousins, letters and drawings) her birth certificate arriving, her ashes, her death certificate, cards in the mail, donations and preparation for her ceremony. When would getting all these triggers end.

It was then time we had to go back to the same hospital we got our Chloe's diagnosis from. We talked to the doctor about everything that had happened. We were advised the likelihood of this happening again would be very unlikely. I asked questions like; the fact that I had a doctor’s appointment prior to trying and they didn't say anything about my bloods, I took my prenatal vitamins prior to convincing isn't this meant to prevent it? We ate well, I lost 20kg, didn't drink, my husband quit smoking - why did this happen… Apparently 70% of NTD can be prevented by your pregnancy supplements the other 30% , they call it "just one of those things". I've had my folate and folic acid tested and I had a higher range in my system which is subject to nine months of tablets and now I've had to add in ten times the amount through a jar of $5 pills which we think mothers should just take regardless!

We had a ceremony for Chloe on Australia Day at the place where we got married. We had a balloon to release, but Chloe decided it would be better to go earlier and it was released in the car. Chloe had around 30 people come (more would have) and we had a lovely celebrant say some beautiful things. We had some tables set up with some of her special effects, her birth certificate, her pictures, teddies, funeral books and memory jars made just for her. We then spread a small amount of ashes in the ocean and blew bubbles. It was perfect and heart-warming that we had so much support from our amazing friends and family.

The situation we have been in has been very $h!T, my husband and I are stronger than ever, we have learnt a lot about true friends and family, the support we have received off of the "Facebook world" has been nothing short of amazing, even when I'm having tantrums. The messages, the calls, the cards, the flowers, the thoughts and the kind words. The support from our work, the assistance from the hospital and the doctors it makes us feel so lucky and appreciative in a time when "luck" isn't in our side.

We personally wouldn't be where we are today without some key people in my life, new and old virtual and real. I've met some people from all around the world on support groups for people in this terrible club. In a time when you feel so alone you start to realise that you are not. To help my healing I donated my wedding dress to angel gowns to make little angel dresses, I edited photos of other angels and put them into special wall features for their parents. I've seen so much pain on these groups and if I could have any super power it would be to give everyone's babies back and let them have them forever! When I hear people in the normal world complaining about something to do with their child it does make me sad. This is because little things like being up late at night to crying, or teething, or fevers is a luxury in my new world these things are things that mothers in this "group" would die to have. Hug your children and loved ones tightly and please enjoy these precious moments. All kinds of tragedies strike when we least expect it and life shouldn't be taken for granted.

My husband went back to work in the new year and I was back at work on the 15th Feb which was 9 weeks after her birth. Australia is amazing for recognising her birth and allowing me access maternity leave, however had she been 19 weeks instead of 20 we wouldn't have been so lucky. Which makes me sad. I've had the privilege of seeing many beautiful angels at all gestations and I can tell you a baby is a baby as soon as it's conceived! The emotional turmoil that is left whether for miscarriage, stillbirth, being in NICU or medical termination is huge but to not be told that they exist prior to 20 weeks is just messed up.

What hurts more is when people use words that make these big events in our lives less significant think about what you say to people before you say it! I used to be a big "positive" person! You would hear me say everything happens for a reason but how can I say that now? Someone in the universe chose to give Chloe a terrible diagnosis, made us go through labour, death, and organising a funeral so I can learn?? I’d rather not have the lesson thanks... What child would you give up to learn a lesson in life?

If your still reading thank you! Chloe's story will only close, when we allow it to and we won't. She will always be our first baby girl.. our child! Just because she isn't here doesn't mean she doesn't exist. She will be remembered until the day we die. We waited ten years to make a perfect life for her.. little did we know that nothing on the outside could have helped what was going on inside. We have no regrets with our decision the only regret we have is not spending time with her in my tummy and worrying about others too much. This year we are being selfish in some instances and not feeling guilty for it. "Fit our oxygen first, before helping others".

We ended a very much wanted pregnancy.

We have changed, parts of us are broken but we're survivors and we've survived so far.

The end.                                                                                 Zena Mason

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Zena is a full time administration officer, wife and mother to 4 furry animals as well as one beautiful angel called Chloe. This journey has been hard but she says that she has met some strong women and made friendships with people from across the world.

She's on a mission to not let Chloe's memory disappear she was a very wanted child for Zena and her husband. Zena is very open about Chloe's story because it’s such a taboo and it's important to raise awareness for all mothers who have lost a child but specifically through medical termination. She says "if we can raise awareness we will then create more supportive friends and family and hopefully one day we won't need to suffer in silence and feel so alone".

Keeping Charlie’s Memory Alive by Anita

Anita Marshall shares Charlie’s story and how running has become a special time for her; ‘Charlie time’ and a way to keep his memory alive. It has also allowed her to raise funds for Sands and help other parents in a similar situation.

Sands Australia has become an integral part of mine and my family’s life since Charlie was stillborn on July 30, 2002. 

Thirteen and a half years seems like a long time and it is, but Charlie is always with us as are the memories of the day life changed forever. 

My husband and I had been trying to have a baby and after a bit of help, became pregnant for the first time.  At the time, I worked in a maternity hospital and was also a trained nurse so was surrounded by the healthcare system and babies.  The pregnancy was smooth with no hiccups and everyone at home and work were excited to meet our little boy Charlie.  We knew it was a boy and his name was Charlie.  I had just finished working with the plan of having a few weeks off to rest and nest at home.  I saw my obstetrician in the afternoon of July 29 and heard Charlie’s heartbeat and all was fine “see you next week for your delivery” he said as I left the clinic. 

That night I felt uncomfortable but I was 37 weeks pregnant so naively went about my business. As the night progressed, I started to feel unwell and had what I thought must be contractions, so off to the hospital we drove, excited that this might be it. On arrival we were placed in a room to be checked and see what was going on.  Like so many before us, Charlie’s heartbeat could not be found and in that moment I knew enough to know something was wrong.  None of the nursing staff could find his heartbeat and our obstetrician had been contacted.  We were moved to our obstetrician’s rooms for an ultrasound, just him and us, where it was confirmed that Charlie had died.  We had only heard his heartbeat that afternoon….what could possibly have gone wrong? 

In the early hours of July 30, Charlie Marshall was born naturally and was 7.5 pounds and looked like nothing was wrong except everything was wrong as he did not take a breath. 

Apart from my brother, who was younger than us and had no children himself, we found ourselves on our own. We were living interstate so family and friends were contacted and were on the next planes to be by our side and meet and hold Charlie.

Life changed forever that day, not only for us but also our family and friends.  They surrounded us with love and support and following Charlie’s funeral, the first of what has now become a tradition ‘Charlie Party’ was held at my brother’s home.  All the food and drink had to start with ‘C’ and everyone there wrote their special note to Charlie on a balloon that were all released together.  This tradition has continued and has now also been embraced by Charlie’s brothers – Cooper, Archie and Parker! 

Charlie’s three brothers were all born prematurely which was certainly a highly stressful number of years. 

It was after having our four sons that I decided to take up running and it quickly became my ‘Charlie time’.  One thing led to another and I started entering fun runs and fundraising for Sands. Sands had allowed me to grieve at my own pace, feel normal around others and piece by piece put life back together.  It is a way I can help Sands and other families like ours. 

I wanted to mark Charlie’s 10^th birthday, so my close friends and I created Team Charlie and ran the Melbourne Half Marathon in 2012. We managed to raise $25,000 for Sands, it was such a fulfilling and meaningful achievement. Then in 2015, the year Charlie would have become a teenager, we decided to commemorate it by taking part in the ultimate run, the New York Marathon, raising over $9,500.  Running and raising money for Sands not only supports an organisation that gives so much to others but also keeps Charlie’s memory alive for all those around him. 

Losing your child leaves you in pieces but Sands is part of the team who help put you back together all be it in a different way and for that we will be forever grateful.

Anita Marshall 

If you are inspired by Anita and want to fundraise for Sands visit http://www.sands.org.au/get-involved/fundraise for ideas on how you can make a huge difference.

Birth, Death and Beyond

Jackie Barreau, Adelaide author, shares with us an excerpt from her book 'Through a Mother's Eyes'

As I look back on my second pregnancy, and it’s unfortunate ending  - I am extremely thankful that I was able to carry my three other children to term. I also wish I could add they were in good health but that was not the case.  I do know that statistics show 6 babies are stillborn each day. These statistics are still high and yet we seem to avoid talking about child loss. Just like birth is a natural occurrence so too is death.  Elisabeth Kubler -Ross a Swiss-American psychiatrist and author of the book ‘On Death and Dying’ described her five stages of grief as; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance, better known as the acronym DABDA. Kubler-Ross also suffered two miscarriages before giving birth to her two children. Her famous quotes are now shared around the world in social media circles and beyond. It is still a mystery to me that we can openly discuss acts of terrorism and the media can televise beheadings, but we can’t talk openly and honestly about child loss; that it is just to confronting.

Child loss can tear families and relationships apart or it can truly galvanise them. For my husband and I - our marriage has weathered the storm, where many have crumbled ours continues to strengthen. Child loss puts enormous strain and pressure on a relationship. I know so much has changed in the years since Cody died, and the bereavement support offered to families is readily available and accessible, it is so vitally important and necessary in the recovery process. I talk of the word ‘process’ and how grief is just that. We may be getting on with our lives but we will never get over the loss of our children.

In 2013 I published my first book of poetry ‘Through a Mother’s Eyes’ here is an excerpt.

           If the meaning of loss

           is measure by heartache

           and deep and overwhelming grief,

           then maybe we have already

           learnt one of life’s

           most difficult lessons.

           If we quantify each step taken

           forwards rather than backwards

           We will realise that the hardest

           part of the journey

           is already behind us

           It has no boundaries,

           The only ingredient

           being love.

Jackie

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Jackie Barreau

Jackie is a resident of Adelaide, South Australia and a published author. Happily married and a mother of four (two sons in heaven) she also has two teenage daughters. In 1998 her second son Cody was stillborn at 26 weeks, the cause of death an issue with the placenta. Some months later her first born Luke  just 2 yrs old whom was diagnosed with neuroblastoma (cancer) died after a short battle. Jackie's articles on child loss have appeared in www.stillstandingmag.com. She currently writes for www.myinvisiblelife.net a NFP blog for invisible illness and disability. You can also read her own musings at www.lovehopeandcourage.wordpress.com

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.