Coping with Miscarriage - Therese

Therese shares with Sands her experience of miscarriage which occurred a long time ago when there was no support available.

'It didn’t matter that I had two other precious children that I loved with all my heart; I always felt this missing link and sometimes felt so alone.'

In those early days of losing my precious third child through miscarriage, there was always a feeling of something missing at Christmas as I knew that I should have been about to give birth any day after Christmas. There was no support in those days either from family or the Church (I was a Catholic) and by the Health Professionals. No-one could understand this feeling except someone who had gone through it. I also felt very guilty as my miscarriage started the day my older child was performing in her first calisthenics concert as Red Riding Hood. My sister-in-law who had come to watch my daughter, had to take over her care and look after her while my husband rushed me to hospital – I had to have a curette after the loss of my baby and I didn’t even know what that was! I mentioned my miscarriage a short while ago to my same sister-in-law and she had no memory of the day! I thought “wow how could you not” but it just goes to show what is important to one person isn’t to another unless it has an emotional impact to that person.

It didn’t matter that I had two other precious children that I loved with all my heart; I always felt this missing link and sometimes felt so alone. If I hadn’t had my friend Robyn who had been through it (twice!), I am not sure I would have survived. My husband and I had differing ways of handling it and while I thought I understood that he was grieving too, I felt my loss was worse as I had the physical pain of the loss plus the emotional pain as well. Of course, many years later and being a professional working in the field of loss and grief, I now understand that the grief of men and women is both different and, on some levels, the same; we just handle it differently.

Much of my recovery was a feeling I just had to get on with it for the sake of my two children and the husband whom I loved, but guess didn’t understand at that point. The physical recovery took time and the emotional even longer. Grief is not something that just goes away with time as many would like to think; one just learns to deal with it.

How did I get through it one might ask? My dearest friend kept me sane and even back then I think I started to write poetry, a passion that is still with me today. It was probably not until after my next child was born that I realised that my recovery from this miscarriage had not eventuated but rather I had hidden it away. I had a physical breakdown and went into a retreat-like existence with the lovely Grey Sisters in Canterbury,  where I joined a group of women who were going through rough times too. I was able to start talking about what had happened in a more forthright way.

By this time, it was the beginning of the end for my marriage, although we struggled for another 10 years plus and moved to the country. Today I may have handled things better as there is more support but one can never say how you could handle something until it actually happens to you. There were other grief situations we were both going through at the time and I feel in hindsight that this added to our burden and we had also lost the art of communication as my husband began to absent himself more and more.

These days I know a lot more about the association of stress to loss. I have even run courses on this subject, so I am aware of my triggers and can manage it better; however, Christmas still brings up a few tears for this loss and others that have occurred since.  One does get through it but at the time one can’t see the wood for the trees.  

Some words of advice: Don’t isolate yourself as I did. Ask for that all important support from anyone and keep asking until you get it. There is so much support out there and I truly wish that an organisation like SANDS was around when I was going through my loss of my baby.

Therese

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

About Therese 

Therese has worked in the field of counselling and community development for over 20 years. She has worked predominantly in the health and welfare field. She has worked in the primary school sector counselling children through a range of loss and grief and traumatic experiences.

Therese has also delivered a number of conference papers on the theme of children’s loss and grief and articles on stress management too. She also worked as a Sessional teacher in the TAFE system and the Private Sector in the Community Services area, including Mental Health Welfare for over 20 years. She is also an experienced Supervisor.

Therese has as a small business conducting Reiki, Inner Child Therapy, Meditation and similar therapies. She is also works as a Group Facilitator and teaches stress management and relaxation techniques within the local community as well as running workshops in the areas of trauma and loss and grief and related areas.

Therese is a published poet and has three children and four delightful grandsons. She enjoys nothing more than a good cup of coffee and the occasional glass of wine or bubbly. She is passionate about climate change and the environment, wanting a clean world for her grandchildren to grow up in and one where any type of violence is not tolerated.

My First Christmas Without You - Lauren

Lauren talks about how this Christmas will be different as it is the first Christmas without precious Laylah and how her family will remember her.

The countdown to Christmas is on and all the tell-tale signs of the ‘most wonderful time of the year’ are all around. Shops full of decorations, cute little festive outfits for children and parents lined up with screaming kids for hours just to get that one photo with the big jolly man. I normally love Christmas and all that comes along with it, I have the carols playing from the 1st December and I’m a sucker for all the gorgeous houses lit up at this time of the year.

This year it’s different, it’s the first Christmas we have had to spend without our baby girl. I had already planned out how this Christmas day was going to go with my bub being 11 months old, she would have been the perfect age for unwrapping presents and being more excited about the wrapping than the actual present. She would be doted over by the family as she is the first grandchild for my side and she would be able to enjoy all the yummy food but reality is this Christmas is going to be far from how I imagined it. 

Instead this year for me it becomes another day I have to survive and just try and get through. The shine is slightly dulled on the Christmas cheer as I’m not feeling so joyful. This year my only Christmas wish is to hold my daughter just once more in my arms and kiss her little head, I would trade every Christmas just for that.

For this year I have planned 3 things that are all about remembering my baby.

Christmas decoration

Last Christmas while heavily pregnant and waddling around the shops I had decided that I wanted to start the tradition in our family of buying a special decoration each year for my kids to hang on the Christmas tree. My Mum did something similar for us and setting up the Christmas tree was always such an exciting night in our family and even up until I was about 17 we would all have a night where we would set the tree up all together as a family. 

So although my baby girl isn’t here to celebrate Christmas as I had of wished she will still have two special ornaments on the tree, one from when I was pregnant with her last year and this year’s decoration.

Christmas stocking 

I bought a special Christmas stocking that I have had my daughter’s name embroidered on. It makes me smile to see it and it will now be a tradition to have the Laylah stocking hanging up near the tree every year and on Christmas morning it will be filled with hugs and kisses from Santa. 

Kmart wishing tree

I plan to donate a Christmas present to the Kmart wishing tree, to make it more meaningful I plan to get a present for an 11 month old girl. Something that I think Laylah would have loved for Christmas and hopefully it will bring joy to another little munchkin and makes her smile of Christmas morning.  

Lauren

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Lauren Samuels

Lauren Samuels is a Melbourne based blogger. Through her own personal journey of losing her full term daughter to stillbirth it has been a huge test of character to keep moving and feel alive again. Blogging and sharing her personal experience has helped to make sense of the curve balls life has thrown and now she is all about enjoying the small things each and every day. Lauren is a wife to Jonathan, Mother to her angel Laylah and pregnant with bubba 2. You can follow her journey at www.enjoythesmallthings.com.au or on instagram @enjoythe.smallthings

Dantè Angel Kilduff Sherriff by Caitlin

Caitlin shares with us precious Dantè Angel Kilduff Sherriff.

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

My son my last my only - when I found out I was pregnant it was a miracle as I was never supposed to be able to get pregnant ever. I was so excited I was going to be a mum. soon after I became homeless and was sleeping in my car for a little;  I soon found a room to rent and was starting to get everything I would need for a baby when I went for a ultrasound at 13 weeks.  I cried my eyes out, I was amazed that that was my baby so perfect.   I found out I was having a boy then as well as there was no way at missing it - even the doctor was 99% sure. I was so happy as on top of all the doctors saying I would never have children, I lost my partner 3 years ago and even though I was struggling with everything I wanted to make sure I had everything for my son. When I felt him kick for the first time it was amazing and every little thing would put a smile on my face.

When I was 20 weeks I went in for a ultrasound.  I was so excited to get to see him.  The doctor started checking everything and explained everything she was doing.  At the end she asked someone else to come look at something - afterwards she told me that my midwife would tell me if there was anything wrong.  I was a little worried but my next appointment was only a week away - the day before I got a phone call asking if I could go in for another ultrasound and they could do it the same day as my midwife appointment. The next day I went in to the hospital when they started checking everything, but when they got to his heart I knew something was wrong by the looks on their faces -  my heart sank. They took me to a room and asked if I wanted someone with me -  I said no as I had no one.  They then told me my son had 2 life threatening heart defects. When I left I sat in the car for 30 minutes crying.

I had to go back in the next day to see a heart surgeon:  they did more ultrasounds and I lay there for a hour while 4 different doctors looked at his heart – and they then told me my son had  hypoplastic left heart syndrome and interrupted aortic arch. They asked me if I wanted to continue my pregnancy and if so explained that he would have to have heart surgery within the first week of being born and stay in hospital until he was 3 months and then have 4 more surgeries after that.  I knew that no matter what I wanted to hold my son,  I wanted to feel what lots of other mums get to  feel, so they transferred me to a hospital that had specialists so he could have as much chance as they could give him to live.   Soon after I became homeless again as the people I was living with where having problems.

On the 23 November 2014 I woke up and noticed I was bleeding.  I went in to the hospital and they found that my main waters had broken and they would like me to stay in hospital until my body went in to labour by itself – they told me that while he was still inside me he would be fine.  That afternoon I didn't feel right, so they did an ultrasound to check on him:  as they were doing that his heart started slowing down.  I could see the screen and I watched my son’s heart stop beating. Everything inside me went numb - all that was going through my head was that I had to get as much as I could so I can remember him – things like feet and hand prints and photos.  They soon started my labour. I had already called his father and asked if he would come but he hung up on me -  I tried for a hour to call him but he wouldn't pick up

For 6 hours I screamed for him and cried at 6:55 am on the 24 November 2014 at 2 5 weeks 4 days gestation my son Dantè Angel Kilduff Sherriff was born.  I got to spent 12 hours with him and they were the most amazing hours of my life.  When I left I didn't have anywhere to go so I slept in the car out the front of his father’s house.  I then had to organise everything by myself while I was still homeless. His funeral was so beautiful.  I never cried until after everything was done.  It was the day I picked his ashes up  - that’s when it all hit me.

Looking back i wouldn't change a thing as I'm never going to have another child.  I got to hold my child,  something I was told I would never get to do.  My name is Caitlin,  I'm 25 and my son was born was here and was loved every moment of his life and I will love him every second of mine. I love and miss you Dantè Angel Kilduff Sheriff.  

Thank you for letting me share my son’s story so he can live on in the memories of others.  My angel forever I love you.

Caitlin

Jeremy's Story - Alisha

Alisha shared the poem she wrote for Jeremy which was published on August 31st.  She now shares with us precious Jeremy's story.

'At my husband’s insistence we had a very small funeral with only immediate family.  It was the smallest coffin I’ve ever seen, but it was decorated with gorgeous flowers and the blue elephant that reminded me of him and it was just perfect.'

After three years of infertility and countless treatments, my husband and I were finally successful in conceiving thanks to a round of IVF.  I was so ecstatic to finally be pregnant; I never dreamt it wouldn’t result in my family dream coming true.  I had already bought everything I needed, decorated the perfect nursery, and had the big scary 20 week scan and everything was more or less how it should be.  There was a strange comment about low amnio fluid, so my obstetrician suggested we come and see him the following week, just to put my mind at ease.  Neither he nor us had any idea that the next time he saw us he would be telling us he couldn’t find a heartbeat and then organising for me to be induced the following day.

My husband wouldn’t really acknowledge that we had a child, to him this was just another setback in our journey to become parents, so we just needed to get the medical part out of the way and get on with our lives.  As a result he wasn’t really there for me at the hospital, preferring to sit in a chair on the other side of the room rather than hold my hand as I gave birth to our son.  He refused to look at him, and I’m not sure if it was the drugs, his attitude, the exhaustion, the shock, or his pressure to leave the hospital, but as a result I didn’t really hold my son.  I didn’t spend any real time with him, didn’t take photos or anything to remember him.  Instead I left him with the nurses and headed home so my husband could go to the gym, and at the time that seemed like acceptable behaviour.

I think after such a long journey to conceive my son and only being 21 weeks, it was as if I didn’t feel entitled to grieve - these things happen and you just need to focus on what comes next.  I had already been through so much grieving for the children I couldn’t conceive over the last three years; this was just another part of this journey.  I felt like a fraud saying my son was stillborn!  To me stillborn children only happened to the poor women who had to carry their babies full term and then they died.  Even though I had just gone through labour and delivered my son naturally it was so hard for me to think of myself as being in the same category as them – what they go through must be the most devastating thing in the world.

I am so grateful to the wonderful family and friends who came to visit me the next day and who messaged and sent so many beautiful flowers.  All of the support and how upset they all were helped me realise the severity of what I had actually just been through, and to help me see that I was a Mother and I had lost my child – it wasn’t just another medical procedure.  Once that sunk in I felt sick with guilt that I hadn’t spent more time with him, we hadn’t even named him.  My husband wasn’t interested in naming him and refused to let me use any of the names on our list.  I had always liked the name “Jeremy” and when I looked up the meaning it was “God will raise him and God will set him free”.  I’m not a religious person, but this just fitted perfectly.  After that moment I started to get selfish and do what I needed to do to honour my son and how much he meant to me. 

Work was amazingly supportive and gave me as much time off as I needed so I spent my first few days reading other’s stories - the first story I found was actually a DJ from a local radio station that I had listened to most mornings since I was young and it gave me so much comfort and hope to know I wasn’t alone.  This can be such an isolating time, especially when you don’t have partner support, and while I knew of people who had suffered miscarriages, I didn’t know of anyone who had ever had a stillborn - I got so much comfort from strangers generous enough to share their stories.  I then focused on planning the perfect funeral and found great healing in writing.  The wonderful funeral director had angel babies of her own and was heavily involved in SANDS and she gave me some amazing books that really helped.  She could also see that my husband was not in the same place as I was and managed us very well so she could offer me so much support and guidance.  Through her I organised for myself, my parents and my Mother in Law to be able to spend some time with Jeremy.  I know this meant a lot to all of them.  Jeremy was the first Grandchild for both sets of parents, and they really appreciated being able to see him, hold him and say goodbye.

At my husband’s insistence we had a very small funeral with only immediate family.  It was the smallest coffin I’ve ever seen, but it was decorated with gorgeous flowers and the blue elephant that reminded me of him and it was just perfect.  I read the a poem I had written for him, others spoke and I created the perfect soundtrack.  A good friend sent a bag of gorgeous baby blue helium balloons to my house that morning which we released after the ceremony.  At my insistence we followed the funeral with a large wake to celebrate Jeremy and what he meant to me. I was so touched that over 70 people came to the wake to celebrate Jeremy, his significance and how much he meant to all of us. 

At the time I passed off my husband’s behaviour as just his way of grieving, but the death of Jeremy was the last straw for him and he wasn’t prepared to go through any more to get our family.  As a result he left me a week later. 

On August 31 it will be 3 years since Jeremy was born sleeping.  I like to think his passing was the greatest gift a child could ever give a parent.  I can now see my marriage would not have survived regardless and Jeremy has given me a clean break and a second chance at happiness.  I still have good and bad days, and think of Jeremy at some point during most days - I just hope he is proud of the life I am living thanks to his sacrifice.

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.

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.

Preppie Tidal Wave

Danielle shares with us her emotions as she realises her precious son, Jasper, was supposed to start prep school.

Tuesday January 27th started out like a normal day. Rush rush, taking my 2.5 year old rainbow to Kindy, making sure we hadn't forgotten anything. The occasional tantrum on the way, mostly because he can't take his trains to Kindy. Hubby hadn't gotten back from night shift so I was doing the Kindy run alone. Driving to Kindy, I see schools open. I see children excitedly, and some not so excitedly getting out of cars for their first day back at school. I still haven't realised.

I get to Kindy; I get Harrison out of the car and help him inside. I am making his breakfast and a mum about my age comes in. The Kindy teachers start fawning over the new Prep child who used to come to the Kindy last year – “oh look at you in your new uniform – look how grown up you look! Thank you for bringing him in to see us!” And it hits me like a tidal wave. Jasper was supposed to start prep today.

I rush into the bathroom to clear my thoughts. I have to settle Harrison and get home – I think to myself. I manage to get through the next 10 minutes, made more difficult that Harrison wanted mummy to stay and read and cuddle him, but I needed to get out of there. But I couldn't hold it in all the way home. My chest feels heavy and the all too familiar and terrible ache in my heart. The ache that makes you feel like you can’t breathe or think. The ache that is physical and feels like your heart is dropping right out of your chest. I sat there and cried.

I cried selfishly at first. I cried because at first I forgot. I cried because I wish I didn't have to remember and that it isn't fair. Because I was the ‘unlucky one’ who didn't get to bring my baby home. Because after 5 years it still hurts. Because I will never buy Jasper a school uniform. But then I cried for his younger brother. I cried because his little brother will never experience the joy and jealousy of watching his older brother go to school before him. Because there will always be a big brother missing who he won’t play with – who won’t get to amaze him with thrilling stories of school and who won’t be there when his little brother also starts school. He doesn't have a big brother to look up to, to protect him.

When I pull myself together and get home, I soak in the bath and try to collect my thoughts. I think about the school we wanted to send him to and wonder how he would have coped. And the sad thing was that I couldn't imagine it. And sometimes that hurts more. I can’t imagine what he would be like today. I went on the computer to chat to a friend for comfort and like a knife through my heart I saw my Facebook feed – pictures of proud parents showing off their little prep kiddies in their new school uniform. Parents who have every right to be so proud of their children, but who unintentionally add to the pain. I had to close my computer. I couldn't interact on social media on this day.

Milestones like this hit me like a brick. And they are usually compounded by the lack of support I receive. My husband is my rock but after working night shift, I can't wake him up because I feel guilty. Many family members believe I am ‘wallowing’ and should just forget about him. It has been 5 years and I can never forget about the small little boy, who fought so bravely for life for 10 hours. I can’t simply ‘forget’ the little boy who isn't here, and I can’t put it out of my mind the milestones in life he can never achieve. Although I have a wonderful rainbow that brings me joy and heals my heart a little bit every day, he is not a replacement for the brave little boy I lost. His milestones are his alone and do not replace the milestones that Jasper should have had.

I cannot wait for my rainbow to achieve his milestones and I look forward to them every day, even if it does bring along a reminder of what we have lost.

If you require support after reading this blog please contact 

Sands on 13 000 72637

Danielle Hall

Wife to Corey and Mumma to two boys: Jasper Rhys in heaven and Harrison Phillip Robert in her arms. Jasper passed away after PPROM at 23 weeks and birth at 26 weeks, surviving for 10 hours in the NICU unit. Currently completing a Master of Social Work with the goal to aid in the safety and protection of all children, because all children deserve to feel safe and loved.

What Happens Next????

Readers of the Sands blog will remember Jess's story of the birth of her daughter Emma.  This blog, as the title suggests, describes Jess's own brush with death in the weeks after Emma's birth. It is a salutary reminder that, even in the 21st century, birth can (albeit rarely)  be risky for mothers as well as babies. 

After the death of a child, I think at any age, your life is transformed completely. In our case she was never home with us, we never got to experience her personality, never got to complain about lack of sleep or the amount of nappies we were changing and yet I still occasionally walk into the nursery and expect her to be there.

Once you arrive home from the hospital, devastated and empty handed you realise life must resume and you need to find your new ‘normal’.

For me, my re-entry into the real world wasn’t as straight forward as trying to cope with our loss. In the days after Emma’s birth I became increasingly ill. My husband had been suffering a chest infection so coupled with my grief I assumed it was just that and attempted to press on.

One week after discovering our beautiful little girl’s heart had stopped beating I found myself unable to breathe, unable to even get out of bed! My husband somehow managed to get me up, into the car and straight to Emergency.

Grieving for our Emma had to very abruptly take a backseat that night and it wasn’t until weeks later that we were able to begin processing our loss again.

My memory of that time is fuzzy at best but I’m told that after I was admitted that night I was simply too tired to breathe on my own so was placed in an induced coma and intubated until they could figure out why I was fading before them.

Emma’s birth had been particularly traumatic and I had come away with an impressive number of stitches. To avoid infection they’d put me on antibiotics immediately. Because of this, when I was admitted, they were unable to detect exactly what was wrong because the antibiotics were killing every sample they took as soon as they had taken it.

Though it’s never been 100% confirmed, it’s suspected that the bug that took our little girls life almost took mine as well. As well as an extraordinary case of pneumonia.

For me it was a week of blissful nothingness until they finally figured out what the problem was and woke me up. For my husband it was days of doctors, nurses, specialists and for a time, trying to face the reality that he had lost his beautiful daughter and now might lose his wife too.

So a week after stumbling almost incoherently into ED, two weeks after losing our daughter, I woke up in ICU with little recollection of how I got there….then I got better.

I’m not sure if having that time of ‘distraction’ was a good thing or a bad thing for our grieving process but I do know one thing, while this has been the most horrifying experience of my life, I am so very fortunate to have such a rock solid partner in my hubby. He is my hero, the father of my 2 perfect children and my best friend.

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.

 

Surviving Christmas when your baby died

Larissa shares with us a few things that were helpful to ensure she survived the festive season

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what day is coming up in a few weeks. The decorations have been in stores for months, jacaranda trees have lined the streets with glorious purple flowers, carols have started playing and the day itself arrives in just a few short weeks. Christmas.

For many people it’s a wonderful time of year, celebrating the birth of Jesus or simply a chance to get together with family and friends. I used to love Christmas, watching the carols on tv, giving gifts and spending time with my family. I thought it was a great time of year… until my baby died. Christmas 2012 was full of anticipation as I awaited her birth and Christmas 2013 was a non-event as I didn't feel like celebrating without her. But I made it through and you can too.

The most helpful thing for me was to not have any expectations of myself. I didn't know what I would feel like on the day, and I certainly didn’t know if I would be up to attending the big family gathering. The thought of seeing too many people induced a lot of anxiety. And so my husband and I simply didn’t commit to anything. We agreed to see immediate family on Christmas Eve but didn't make any plans to see people for Christmas Day. It was the best thing we could have done! Not having any pressure to be a certain place at a particular time was very freeing. It meant I could allow myself to spend time with my grief without needing to put on a happy face for others.

In the lead up to Christmas, I became quite upset at the idea that Ariella may be left out. I wanted to see her name on cards; I wanted her to be included in any way that was possible. The only way to escape the fear of her exclusion was to not have any expectations of others. I desperately wished people would remember her and say her name, but I knew I needed to be ok if they didn't. I couldn't let their actions (or lack thereof) cause me added stress. I was very blessed in that she was remembered by quite a few people and I received some beautiful gifts for her and cards with her name included. But because I had decided not to expect it, those moments felt like an added bonus, not a necessity to surviving.

This might seem contradictory to the above point, but tell others what you need. One friend asked me whether to include Ariella’s name in the card and I didn't hesitate to tell her a resounding ‘yes’! I know of others who have written a brief Facebook status telling their family and friends to please include their children while others have told people face to face. It can be hard to be honest with people and sometimes I feel selfish doing so. But if you need to do it, don’t feel ashamed. It’s a hard time of year and it’s more than ok to do whatever you need to do to survive.

I've only experienced one Christmas without my daughter but it was the hardest Christmas of my life. I’m sure those who've had more than one Christmas without their child would have some more advice for you. If you do, please feel free to comment and share your wisdom. Together, we can get through this Christmas time. 

Larissa

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 Larissa's posts at:

Deeper Still (www.loveisdeeperstill.blogspot.com)  and on Still Standing Magazine (http://stillstandingmag.com/author/larissa).