Dantè Angel Kilduff Sherriff by Caitlin

Caitlin shares with us precious Dantè Angel Kilduff Sherriff.

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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

Six Years Is A Long Time by Dani

It has been six years since precious Jasper died.  In this blog, Dani shares with us her memories of what has occurred since Jasper died and her memories of the time surrounding his death.

Photo taken and copyrighted to Dani Hall

Every once in awhile, I remember how long it’s been. Days like today (18th November) – his 6^th birthday, particularly mark the passing of time. Time really passes. It is not something we imagine. But the passing of time is both objective time and subjective time. But there is also personal time, which is measured in your relationship to memory.

When I stop to think about it – really think – so much has happened since his passing. We lost our house, went through fertility clinics to try and discover my infertility problems, we had a rainbow, we raised money for a camera kit for Heartfelt, I’ve lost 3 nephews – one to SIDS and two to prematurity, I’ve been blessed with 4 nieces, helped my mother-in-law find happiness with another partner and watched her get married, gotten a job as a sleep scientist, graduated university with a Bachelor of Justice and currently enrolled to complete a Master of Social Work, volunteered online with SANDS, enrolled my rainbow in prep, took a family road trip, watched Gangad pass, had two sisters get married, my rainbow had surgery and broke his leg, watched many friends get married and have babies and I’ve gotten 3 tattoos. And that’s just what I can think of, off the top of my head.

But then there’s the other side of time. Where it seems like it hasn’t passed at all. Where I think about his birth – rushing for an emergency caesarean and his admittance to the NICU. The strong yearning to see my baby – to hear him cry. The fond memory that we thought he was a girl right up until the moment he was born. The name we had picked out for him – Taryn – until he was born and we had to think of his name on the spot. The sheer relief that flooded through me when he was born, knowing he would be taken care of. The feeling of my heart plummeting when they told me to make the choice to continue care or remove him from life support. The knowledge that I had seen him only a few hours earlier and he was alive – kicking, responding to my touch – and knowing I’d never see that again. And in there hazily, the memory of my dad holding his oldest grandson, saying goodbye, telling him how proud he was of him. Getting wheeled back to my room after kissing him goodbye, knowing I’d never see him again. The sheer pain in my heart – hurting to move – hurting to breathe. The guilt for removing support. Preparing a cremation and funeral. Something no parent should have to do.

The overwhelming support and the text from my dad I will never forget “Dani, you should be very proud for creating a life and trying to give him the best chance possible – not many people can do that”. The foggy memories of loved ones visiting – and trying – really trying to connect but not being able to. The loss of friends.

The memories are right there, as though it all happened yesterday, but it’s been 6 years. 6 years ago we still thought he was a girl. 6 years ago we knew our baby would be born early we just didn't know when. 6 years ago I was still in ignorant bliss that our baby would survive. Little did we know in 24 hours our baby boy (surprise not a girl) would be born at 25+6 weeks and another 10 hours after that we would have to take him off life support and watch him go to heaven in my arms.

Time has taken away a lot of my innocence, given me a lot of grief, taken my son further and further away from me. But it has also given me many happy moments, blessed me with another son, made me who I am today.

“No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.” 

– Hakuri Murakami

Dani

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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.

Couldn't Live Without Three.....by Tiffany

Tiff has written very honestly about the physical experience of the miscarriage which followed the death of her son from SIDS.  However, she herself says she is still too numb to be able to explore her emotions in a similar way. We hope that she will be able to do so in the future.

Three  days after Mother’s Day in 2014, I lost my 7 week old baby boy Wade to SIDS. Days and weeks went past and my husband and I were finding it hard to adjust to having two kids again and we were talking about having another:  not to replace our little man but to help us with our grief.

In September 2014 we found out we were pregnant again, but this time our fear was not losing our baby to SIDS -  never did we think of the unthinkable.

When I was 7 weeks pregnant I unfortunately went through trauma. I was checked and the baby and I were doing great.

At 12 weeks that all changed. I started bleeding very heavily. I went to the doctor and had an ultrasound done. They found I had a subchorionic hematoma (which is bleeding in the wall of the uterus) caused by the trauma. They told me it would either grow or shrink and it was a waiting game. My daughters witnessed everything during this pregnancy and I wished I could take it all away.

By 16 weeks my bleeding had died down to just spotting and we were so excited that everything was going well at this point.  But then it turned again.

By 17 weeks I ended up in hospital with gastro and even worse bleeding, to the point where I was literally standing in pools of blood.  I had frequent ultrasounds and the clot was growing. It was now at the point that there was more clot than baby. I was in and out of hospital all week when I suddenly went into labour at 18 weeks on the 10/01/15, only 9 days after my 21st birthday.

The birth was horrific, the worst birth I’d ever had. At 3cm dilated I was already pushing and my baby was holding on until my cervix shut on him. My husband was sitting by me through the whole thing and I told him to pick a name as we knew it was a boy. We named him Jax. They told us straight out that because I was 18 weeks,  no matter happened what he wouldn’t make it. He took his last breath in my husband’s arms. I was expecting a normal looking baby but to start with I was extremely overwhelmed and it made me realise it was bad news. I was hoping it was all a dream.

After the birth they told me I lost about half my blood volume and given that I’m anaemic it was more serious. They told me I needed a blood transfusion, and I turned out that I needed 3 bags. During my first bag I recall my monitors going off and a lot of people in my room when I finally came to they told me my blood pressure dropped dramatically. But I recall nothing as I passed out for a few moments.

That night I spent in the ICU. Constantly being monitored for blood loss and having my extra bags of blood. The next afternoon all I wanted was to go home with my husband and girls. The hospital was too much for me. They hospital refused to let me leave and I kicked up a storm. I couldn’t stand being there. I couldn’t stand the doctors saying I was good and I knew that I wasn’t and it was my heart that wasn’t good.

I feel all this happened just because I was so used to having 3 kids and the routine I was in I wanted to bring another baby into our world so badly. My eldest constantly asks for a new baby brother and to this day I still can’t give her that wish.

Tiff

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Tiffany Aghan

Wife to Luke and mummy to Tamara and Summer, in her arms, and Wade, Jax and Tristan, in heaven. I have recently completed certificates in law and in psychology and in the process of completing certificate in medicine. I am having time off at the moment to spend more time with my girls. But I am hoping one day I will continue where I want to go.

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.

Jealousy.
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!

Larissa

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

This is not my life.

One of our bloggers, Jess, has shared her feelings of suddenly living a different life the day her daughter died.  How everything she dreamed of when she was pregnant is now lost in another life.   

If you would like to talk to someone about your experiences, feelings or emotions, please know that Sands Parent Supporters are available 24/7. Details can be found on our website here.

Imagine you are a beautiful young woman, you are about to graduate university and there is an amazing job waiting for you. Your life is perfect, and the whole world is ahead of you. Then one day you wake up and you are broke, living on the streets under a cardboard shelter. You have the same name, you are the same person, but you are living a different life and you don't know how you got there.

This is what if felt like the day we lost our daughter Isobel. I was still me, but it wasn't my life anymore, and every day since has felt the same.

It starts the moment you leave the hospital, as you walk silently through the doors out into the day, emerging as a person you don't recognise. Your empty arms ache as you walk past the couple packing their new baby into their new car seat, and you imagine them driving home at 20km/h while peeping into the back seat every second and sometimes more. But you can't even look in the side mirror, fearing the reflection of an empty back seat staring back at you. This isn't your car, it can't be. The car you bought 9 months earlier with the extra safety, extra seats, and with extra height to make it easier to get your baby in and out. Instead this car was empty, it had no life anymore.

You sit alone in the backyard feeling tortured by the silence of your house, desperately wanting to hear a baby's cry, but instead you hear the children next door bursting out into their yard to play. You sleep in till 10:00 but you feel cheated by what used to be a pleasure. There are no sleepless nights or tired red eyes, as much as you wish for them every morning at 10:01. But the undisturbed sleep does not give you the extra energy it should. You lie in your ruffled sheets, your teeth feel furry and you're hungry, but you still can't move. You know the silent empty house is waiting for you outside the bedroom door, most especially that room you painted a few months ago. The room with the pretty pictures, the pram and cot you spent hours putting together, and the draws full of tiny clothes that will never be worn.  


Leaving the house is no escape. Walks to the beach are haunted by mothers groups taking advantage of a warm day outside with their babies, or the fitness mums power-pushing their prams or the mums teaching their toddlers to ride a bike. For the first few weeks you can't even look at them, you simply walk at a faster pace to pass them quicker, and you keep your head low so they can't see your tears. But after a while you learn to lift your head and catch their eye, that's when you notice the look on their face. They are thinking how lucky you are to have the free time to walk alone on the beach. How lucky you are to not have a heavy pram to push. If only they knew your pain, you think to yourself, if only they knew how much you would give anything just to push a heavy pram or sit on the shady lawn and boast about your daughter being in the higher percentile for height. The supermarket, the shopping malls, the train stations; everywhere mums are being mums, but you are just you, lonelier than ever.

You are thankful for the government cheques you are still eligible for, and you enjoy seeing "parental leave" on your fortnightly bank statements because in that small way you fit into a mum's world. But eventually the assistance will run out, and you won't have any choice but to go back to work. The first day is tough, you try and motivate yourself by doing your hair and makeup and wearing your nicest work dress, but the truth weighs you down - you shouldn't be going back this early, you should be at home with your baby. You check your Facebook in between work emails, and see new mum's posting monthly birthdays of their babies, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, it's all going so fast they say. But here you are, at work, knowing a lonely house is waiting for you when you leave.

Friends who were pregnant around the same time begin to have their babies. Their healthy babies. You receive the arrival message, the type you never got to send, and reading the words "mum and bubs are doing well" feels like razor blades in your heart. Why does it seem so easy, and why did you fail? You picture them going home with their new baby, scared they won't know what they're doing, changing one hundred nappies a day, getting no sleep for the first few weeks and wishing for just 20 minutes of uninterrupted rest. They share their complaints about exhaustion with you, but their life is everything your life was meant to be.

The only thing that keeps you going is your hope that one day you will find your life again.

                                                                                             Jess

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please contact

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Jess Schulz

Living in quiet beachside Adelaide, Jess is a fundraising officer for Motor Neurone Disease SA, freelance graphic designer, and social blogger. Married for 5 years (together for 12), Jess and her husband experienced the saddened loss of their first child in 2014 at 40 weeks. Their daughter Isobel Lola, passed away 6 days after she was born. A perfect pregnancy ended with a cord prolapse during labour, and now Jess and her husband are walking the road of grief while trying to survive each day without their Isobel. Love, hope and support are the essence of their survival, and Jess has chosen to share their story on Sands to hopefully support other bereaved parents walking this road too.

Dealing with Loss in a Celebrity Baby-Crazed Culture

In this week's blog, Rashida, shares with us her first pregnancy and the similarities of her pregnancy with celebrities.


In today’s celeb obsessed culture having a baby is like picking up one of the hottest accessories, so we are inundated with every detail and nuance from their cravings to what high-priced crib they purchased.

I learned I was pregnant at the same time as arguably two of thee most popular people on planet earth, Princess Kate the Duchess of Cambridge and Kim Kardashian the Queen on reality TV. Both of them reportedly had the same due date - July 11, 2013. Mine due date was July 15, 2013. While both pregnancies were pretty high profile, Kim Kardashian’s was more on my radar because I watch her reality show. Keeping Up with the Kardashians is a guilty pleasure of mine.

So, I was on baby watch along with the rest of the world.

It was her first pregnancy and this was my first too!

She found out she was having a girl and I was too!

She showed off her stylish maternity style and I tried my best to mimic it on my budget. About half way through her pregnancy the show documented an emergency doctor’s appointment after she had experienced some severe pain on an airplane. Her doctor eventually diagnosed her with what he thought was a stomach infection or appendicitis. After some tests, she was sent home with an all clear.

About halfway through my pregnancy I made an emergency trip to the hospital after experiencing some severe pain in my back and my right side. Initially, they thought based on my symptoms that I had appendicitis and I too thought it would be fine. After running a few tests, my doctor came back and told that it wasn’t.

The doctor explained that the pain I was experiencing was my kidney’s shutting down due to severe early onset preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome. She said I would have to deliver the next day or I could die, but it was way too soon for my daughter to survive.  She didn’t.

That turn of events made it extremely hard to hear anything else about Kim’s pregnancy. Now the news that was once welcomed, overwhelmed me when I watched TV or passed the tabloids in the super market.

It caused me to completely disconnect from all media. I had to because I quickly found myself becoming envious. In my grief, I complained to God that celebrities already have “everything”. Why was the one thing I wanted taken from me?

Then one day I caught a glimpse of a magazine making fun of Kim’s fat feet, calling her “Miss Piggy.” In that moment my gut told me that she had preeclampsia too. They were the same way my feet looked and I naively shrugged it off as another pregnancy symptom. I said a short prayer, that my outcome would not be hers. My envy quickly turned into sympathy and hope.

My suspicions were confirmed after she gave birth five weeks early to a baby girl, and as happy as I was for her I could not watch the episode when it aired a few weeks later. It still hit too close to home.

I have watched the show again since then and reconnected with social media and when North West appears on TV or I see her in pictures, sometimes I can’t help but think about how my little girl would have been around the same age.

Rashida

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Rashida McKenzie

Rashida McKenzie is the Founder of High-Risk Helpers, a maternity concierge service for expectant mother's experiencing high-risk pregnancies that result in bed rest. She is also the mother of a baby girl named Maya (who was born after 22 weeks of bed rest) and an angel who inspired her to advocate for pregnancy loss awareness. To learn more about Rashida or High-Risk Helpers, visit www.highriskhelpers.com