My
husband looked at his facebook account- there up the top was a post letting our
friends and family know our beautiful baby was born but didn’t make it, and
right under was the announcement of our pregnancy with him. A pregnancy
announcement followed by a death announcement in a space of 10 days with nothing
in between on his wall. That’s the shock of it- we were expecting, then
suddenly we weren’t. The thing is though, something did happen in between. Our
baby didn’t just disappear… we had him. He
was real, he existed and he mattered. We just didn’t get to take him home
and live a life with him. Instead we will live a whole life without him… and it
hurts.
Seeing
our pregnancy announcement again after his passing cut through us, right to our
core. Everywhere we turned there were things that taunted us in this quick
change of life. A parcel of maternity clothes that arrived just two days before
he was born was sitting on our couch waiting for us when we came home from
hospital. It remained there for two weeks, unopened and now unneeded. I was too
terrified to touch it, just as we didn’t touch the new pram we just bought that
stared at us every time we went into the spare room. The week before I went
through my wardrobe and packed away anything that wouldn’t see me out the
second half of my pregnancy. So every day the simple task of getting clothes
became almost traumatic. I still haven’t pulled out all the clothes I could
wear now, as it seems too awful to wear something I shouldn’t be able to right
now.
I
deliberately chose not to look at photos of myself with my belly. And then one
day I decided I wanted to. It hurt beyond words but as I stared at a photo of
my staff members standing around me pointing at my belly with big grins on
their faces, it surprisingly also made me smile. Because it was a photo of HIM.
It was a photo of him alive and how we were already celebrating him, and that
was wonderful. It was a photo of a time where I carried him, a time I feel honoured
to have had, no matter how much I feel like it’s killing me inside. I decided
then not to hide the photos anymore and have looked at them a fair bit since. I
do however make sure I don’t look at them when I am too fragile to handle them.
And
now although I don’t ever choose the clothes my other children wore in the
pregnancy announcement, if they pick them out themselves I let them wear them.
When they wear them I instantly think of the matching bodysuit to their tee
shirts, the one that sits in his memory box that our angel will never wear.
Although it saddens me greatly, it reaffirms to me that even though he is gone,
they will always be his big brother and big sister, and that he is still very
much a part of our family.
No
matter what, the pain is always there. The pain can be crippling, consuming and
devastating but I try my best to look beyond it to see the happiness and love
behind. The happiness that was there in those moments, in those photos, and try
to honour that. I need to try and hold onto the happy memories and the feeling
of pride I have of him, how he just like every baby, is miraculous and
wonderful, even though he didn’t get to stay. I need to revisit the joy and
warmth and feel the love…because I simply can’t live if there’s only
the pain. And I NEED to live. Not just for our other children but for him as
well.
Stevie
If you require support after reading this blog please contact
Sands on 13 000 72637
Stevie Vowles
Stevie Vowles has a 7 year old daughter, 4 year old son and a son who was born sleeping on 28/10/16. Her journey led her to the upsetting discovery that there is often a great lack of understanding and awareness of pregnancy and infant loss. She has started an open and honest blog sharing her journey of Elliott's birth and the life that leads after for herself, her husband and her two other children, who also grieve greatly, as the first step in wanting to spread awareness and help other bereaved parents the blog can be found here https://elliottsstardust.family.blog/blog/
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