Mother’s Day: Without My Baby And Without My Mum - Courtney

My mum passed away in 2004, from a rare condition called MSA. I was 18 years old. I thought that would be the hardest thing I would ever have to go through in my lifetime. But unfortunately it wasn’t.

At the end of 2014, my partner and I found out that we were expecting, we were so happy.

My pregnancy was straight forward, a bit of morning sickness early on but nothing serious. Our 13 week scan was great, as was our 20 week scan. We also had a number of blood tests that came back fine. We found out we were expecting a baby boy. Because I was relatively young, and everything seemed to be going well, our doctors didn’t see the need for any further scans or tests after 20 weeks. I made sure I was super healthy during my pregnancy. I did everything by the book. No alcohol, no coffee etc.

We gave birth, at 39 weeks, on July 14, 2015, a day before my birthday.

Cooper was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen.

And even straight after birth we were told he was fine.

Things took a turn for the worst later that day. Cooper was breathing heavily, and one of the nurses noticed, and took him to the nursery to be checked.

And so began the worst few days of our lives.

That night we were told there might be something wrong with Cooper’s heart, he would need to be transferred for further tests. He nearly didn’t survive the trip from the Gold Coast to Brisbane.

The following day, on my birthday, we were told that it wasn’t his heart. He had a rare condition, called Vein of Galen (genetic, but completely unrelated to what my mum passed away from). A rare condition, which affects approximately 1 in 3 million babies and is rarely detected during pregnancy unless you have a scan after 30 weeks. Some cases can be operated on but Cooper’s was too severe. He was immediately put on life support.

The next five days were a blur, we asked ourselves so many questions, how could this be happening? Why was this happening? Was it my fault? Would we be able to have another baby?

Cooper survived another night with us by his side. And passed away on the morning of July 19.  Our first born baby, the love of our lives, was gone. And there was nothing we could do.

For the next 6 months, everything hurt. The pain was emotional and physical.

As if the grief wasn’t hard enough, your body is also telling you that you should be looking after a baby. My milk came in and I had to take tablets to make it stop. My post baby body was a constant reminder that I had given birth, but had no baby. We had to pack up a beautiful nursery that we’d spent months setting up. We had to visit the funeral home. And of course we had to make sure all our friends and family knew what had happened.

It was a time when a girl really needed her mother, and I didn’t have her either.

I returned to work a few months later and everyday someone new asked me how my baby was going. I had to explain over and over, usually through tears. In saying that, going back to work was the best thing I could have done. I had somewhere to be everyday and my colleagues were unbelievably supportive.

But the main reason I kept going was thanks to my amazing husband and our families, for them I will be forever grateful.

And of course the thought that one day, we would hopefully have another baby.

We started trying again around 6 months after losing Cooper. The first few months that we didn’t fall pregnant were extremely hard. I wondered if I was ever going to get pregnant again. There were a lot of tears. But finally it happened.

Our second pregnancy was a lot more stressful than our first. We had extra scans and tests, and constantly worried that it was all going to happen again.

It was a long 9 months. But we made it.

On February 17, 2017 we welcomed our beautiful baby girl Zara, the light of our lives.

For a long time I wondered if we would truly ever be happy ever again. But I can now say we are getting there. It’s been tough, but one thing I’ve learnt is the road to motherhood is not easy for so many people. And sometimes it’s just not fair.

Last year Mother’s Day was terrible. How do you celebrate a day, when you don’t have your mum or your baby? I just cried and cried.

This year will be different though. This year I will celebrate Mother’s Day with my beautiful baby girl, and we will remember her amazing brother and my mum, who were both taken from us far too soon.

Courtney

If you require support after reading this blog please contact 

Sands on 13 000 72637

Courtney Zagel

Gold Coast Journalist.30 years old Wife to Leon. Mother of two, Cooper (passed away in 2015 at 5 days old) and Zara (now 10 weeks old)

Precious Angels by Kristina

When I look back at the old me, the me who laughed and smiled constantly and saw the world as an adventure to explore, the me before the storm hit, I remember thinking then that the world is a beautiful place and I'm lucky to be living in it so happy and carefree.
I call it a storm because that is exactly what hit us over an 11 month period. If I wrote my life story no one would ever believe it. Sadly, it is true.

In the world before the storm I always liked to think there were angels around us.  I thought wouldn't it be beautiful to think we have people watching over us and protecting us.  It was just a passing thought here and there. 

Now I search everyday for a sign that Charlie and Neve are here somehow.
Are they that creaky sound in the middle of the night?  When a butterfly flutters near, is it them?

When two rainbows appeared in our wedding photos, I so desperately wanted to believe it was them with us. I so needed to believe they just didn't stop breathing and that was all there was.

I ache constantly for a sign. It will be 10yrs since we last held Charlie in September and 9yrs in August since we held Neve.

I buy photos of butterflies drawn in the sand with their names, candles, birthday cards, Christmas decorations. I still feel I need to validate their lives.

When the storm hit, it hit fast and sudden. The carefree smiley me was gone, never to return. The person that replaced her was someone who pretends that she's ok, that I'm coping. I'm so emotional at everything.

I see the world as sad and unfair. I see an advert for huggies and my eyes tear up.
A friend says she pregnant and I'm a mess. I don't want anyone to feel the way I did and do.

Every pregnancy I had following Charlie was filled with dread and fear. Every cramp or twinge, I was convinced I was going in to labour.

Sadly Neve's pregnancy got to 41 weeks and in labour she stopped breathing. No, it could never happen again, everyone told me.

The world became a darker place, I became more obsessed with the need to believe they were still here in some way.

I spent many days in bed when my husband went back to work, crying and desperately searching for anything to say they were here.

Asking them or rather yelling at the ceiling, please just a sign. Something, anything.
As I gave birth to our second daughter, I remember asking my doctor as I gave birth: is she breathing, please is she?

He didn't need to answer, the sound of her tiny cry filled the room.
I thought she's alive, i should be so happy but I was filled with guilt for trying again and fear that she too would be taken. These feelings have never left. They have less impact now but the fear of losing her and our second son Zack is at times overwhelming.

My friends tell me now that they never got to hold Maya, that as a baby she was permanently in my arms. Looking back, she was. She had to be, I wasn't losing her.
When Maya was 9 months old she used to laugh and point at the stairs. Was she playing with her siblings?

No, babies just laugh right?

She would do this almost every day, just sit and laugh like someone was playing with her. At 18 months she told me a lady sits on her bed at night. She was a nice lady. Was that my mum?

At times over the years when I'm crying and missing them, I feel a warm tingle near my cheek or at night I feel like my hand is being held.

I don't know if it’s them or my need to believe, but for me it brings me comfort.
Has the world changed?  Honestly, I think I have changed more.  Although I don't laugh as much and I'm paranoid about my children and more than likely (compared to my friends) over protective of them.

The one positive change is that I love harder and stronger. I want my children to grow up knowing how much we fought for them and how much we love them. That to us, Charlie and Neve chose them and gave them to us.

My belief in angels is strong because to me they are the sunlight warming my face and they paint us the most beautiful rainbows after the storm. 

I need to believe in something, anything, just for me to keep walking this journey through the storm, otherwise I know I would stop trying to put one foot in front of the other. My heart would stop as the thought is too painful not to believe.

Kristina

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Kristina Riley

Kristina is a children's nurse and a counsellor.

She has four beautiful children.

Charlie and Neve are her two angels who are the  inspiration for raising more awareness about stillbirths and pregnancy loss.

Her two miracles Maya and Zack are the reason she keeps moving forward on this journey of grief.

Her husband Curt is also her inspiration to raise awareness for fathers and their grief.

There needs to be more awareness for us all.