It Seems Like Yesterday by Kristina

In loving memory of precious Neve and Charlie.  Forever loved.

It seems like yesterday but it’s 9 and 8 years.

I never thought I would know how it feels to get out of bed and try to put one foot in front of the other and to put on that smile.

I was a nurse: I had seen people die and I had helped people survive. I had cared for premature babies born at 24 weeks who went home.

I had held a mother’s hand as I told her she would not take her baby home. Watched her whole world be shattered.

I cried tears with her and with my own mother when I finished my shift.

Never did I think I would be that mother.

Sadly I am, and not once but twice.

No one tells you about the 1in4.

I was blind.

My first pregnancy was planned. We were so excited. Everything was perfect.

Well almost: my mum was battling ovarian cancer so this baby was her reason to battle.

We had our 20 week scan and we saw our baby kicking and moving. Little did we know 3 weeks later we would meet him.

I was visiting mum in hospital when I felt just exhausted. I thought it was because I was working full time as a nurse and visiting mum every day.

I called in sick to work and went home and slept. I woke with bad cramping in my back.

I didn't think anything of it. But as the day went on it became worse. All of a sudden I realised this was labour.

As I made my way to the hospital I knew it would be ok we live in a world of miracles.

Wrong.

I was told I was 6 cm dilated and that he had a head full of hair.

I was also told at 23+5 weeks they would not save him.

I kept saying but I work here you need to help him. The look on my doctor’s face told me they wouldn't.

That night after a 6 hr labour I gave birth to our very handsome first son Charlie.

He was so long just like his daddy.

He did have lots of hair.

We had him for 2 minutes. Those 2 minutes were the most beautiful 2 minutes.

We held him and gave him enough love for his life time and ours.

I remembered singing twinkle twinkle to him.

He was just beautiful.

That night I lost my son my mother decided to give up her fight for life. 12 days later she went and met him in heaven.

I will always remember her words. "If they can take a baby there is no point to fighting anymore."

That night I slept in 5 minute intervals. Each time waking and crying for my baby.

The next day I was told I had to plan a funeral!

Funeral? What did they mean? How could I possibly bury a baby so tiny?

I went on auto pilot. Choosing a coffin, songs, words.

How can you choose a song when he didn't get to live.

We did - we chose “Over the Rainbow” and “Tears in Heaven”.

We had a beautiful ceremony, not a funeral. We cremated him and took him home.

The next few weeks are a blur as mum's funeral was next.

I still had my bump. I remember the looks and the pity stares. My breasts had just stopped leaking -

another thing I didn't know would happen.

We were thrilled and nervous to find we were expecting our first daughter two months later.

We were closely monitored with Neve. We went private with her. Our obstetrician was amazing.

She too was a great pregnancy. We made it to 23 weeks and I cried every day that week. As I knew what could have been.

At 32 weeks I had a small bleed and cramping. We were sent to a bigger hospital to be monitored. I sat there for 2 weeks on bed rest an hour away from family and friends.

I kept a diary I spoke to her and I patted her.

We were sent home at 34 weeks.

She refused to budge. She was way too comfy.

I went in on the 7th August at 41 weeks.

She was kicking me and it hurt.

Little did I know  that would be the last movement I would feel.

My waters were broken and from that moment the contractions were so painful. I kept saying to my husband something is wrong please help me.

The midwives said it’s because your waters were broken.

I knew it wasn't.

Finally they told me to lie down and they will put a CTG on me.

My whole world came crashing down.

They couldn't find it. They tried different probes.

I knew when the unit manager came to try it was happening again.

They took me down for an ultrasound. No pain relief.

There she was. Perfect and still. The words

"I'm  sorry, there is no heartbeat."

What do you do?  Scream.

The pain of contractions was nothing compared to my heart shattering.

6hrs later I gave birth to the most beautiful curly haired little girl. NEVE

She was perfect. Beautiful pouting lips and big chubby checks.

They placed her on my chest. I was so in love with her.

We kept her in our arms for 24hrs. Once again singing to her. Kissing her.

She had wrapped herself in the cord and pulled it tight. She stopped her flow of oxygen.

Once again we went home empty armed.

We planned her funeral and once again chose songs.

With Charlie we decided to let him run free.

We took him to our favourite beach.

We wanted him to see the world.

He is in every ocean we see.

We never thought it would happen again.

With Neve she is here with us in our bedroom.

We celebrate their birthdays. We sleep with their blankets.

I still cry for them. I still miss them. I still wonder what ifs.

There were days I couldn't get out of bed. Let alone shower.

Then there were days I would put on that happy face.

I'm not the person I used to be. Fun, silly, carefree and most of all always happy.

Now I worry, stress more, pretend.

This is not a easy journey  but I walk this journey because my babies were real they mattered. They are loved.

They have taught me to love hard and to make it count.

My babies are the reason I chose to try again. I have my two miracle rainbow children who along with Neve and Charlie are helping me on this journey.

As I know what it’s like to say goodbye.

I know what it’s like to be broken.

I know the true meaning of the word mother.

I know others know too.

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.

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

The things we must do

Jessica continues to share with Sands her precious Emma - the realisation that the family would need to organise a funeral for their special little girl.

A few hours after our world came crashing down I remember sitting on our couch, trying to muster the strength to unpack the baby items from my pre packed hospital bag and it dawned on me, we would have to arrange a funeral!

Never in my life did I imagine I'd have to do such a thing, it was quite literally the last experience in the world that I wanted to go through on top of everything else that was soon to come.

We are extremely fortunate to have a terrific support system in friends and

family so we called on the help of my Dad and Father In-Law who made all the arrangements and footed the bill, which was an enormous gesture to us.

Late one night (or early one morning) shortly after Emma was born, I was pacing the house. Unable to sleep, unable to cry, unable to feel anything but the pain of absence in my heart and within my body. Furiously spiralling I put my emotions at that moment onto paper.

Her funeral service was simply beautiful. Her tiny white coffin adorned with a dainty flower wreath of pinks and whites, sat in front of us while her song played harmoniously around us. A song I'd sang to her almost every day throughout our 39 weeks together. We sat, the three of us and cried and smiled and loved our little girl, Adams little sister.
We had the celebrant read the words I had written for her that night, which I entitled “How”

                    How can you love someone you never truly met?

                    How can you miss someone you don’t really know?

                    How can she be gone?

                    How is this fair?

                    How. Can. This. Be!

                    How beautiful she was,

                    How special was our short time together,

                    How she’ll always be in our hearts,

                    How she gives us hope for the future,

                    How she’ll forever be our perfect baby girl <3

In the days and weeks after we said our final goodbye we banded together, Shane, Adam and I. We packed up the bassinet, put away all the clothes I had gotten out from Adam's hand me downs. Finally I uninstalled her baby car seat, I was starting to feel like a crazy person driving around with a baby seat but it was the hardest thing to take away. It was like forcing me to admit defeat, to admit that she would never need to use it.

Eventually the evidence of her presence within me faded bit by bit. The week my hair started shedding like it had when my boy was 3 months old, her birth certificate arrived. A friend described receiving her sleeping little girl's birth certificate like, ‘reminding me that she really was here, even for a short time.’

I've often thought that losing Emma was unfair but that’s not totally accurate. Unfair is having to share the news with friends and family, unfair is making funeral arrangements, unfair is, from now on, having to explain to people that yes we do have 2 children, only that one of them is in Heaven.

There'll always be these terrible things that we must do, I can only hope and pray that one day, the hurt will become more bearable, that we'll find some peace, until we meet again…                                                     Jessica

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.