Because You’re There For Me Too

In  her first blog for Sands, Annika shares her precious babies and how the Sands online support assisted her in her grief.

"Sands gave me a safe place, an online haven where I could openly grieve 

my little babies and talk about our fears of infertility. "

I have a beautiful son. He is almost five months old now! I can’t believe how fast the time has gone by but I could just stare into his blue eyes all day, every day for the rest of my life. But becoming parents was a long, and emotional journey for us as there were four who came before him.

Four tiny babies who graced this earth for only a brief moment in time. Some, only days, others only weeks. We discovered that the endometriosis I had been dealing with since I was 11 was the cause of our losses and so I underwent surgery at the end of 2013 to remove it. We went through all of this in a city where we had no close friends, and we had no family. 



Annika's Angel tattoo in memory of Baby Pearce

The devastation of losing our biggest baby who stayed with us until only 6 weeks and 1 day was overwhelming and inescapable.  I felt alone, lost, and ripped from motherhood. I tried to find local support groups, anything in my city it help me through the grief but unfortunately I could find nothing available. My loss was too early you see, and therefore I felt that our little baby was insignificant.

Looking back, it is clear that I had mild depression for the better part of 18 months. I couldn't let the pregnancy go and was continuously counting down until the due date, October 25^th 2013. My body was empty, but my mind carried on ticking off the milestones as they came and went. It was exhausting. During that time we saw two more positive pregnancy tests which faded until they too were gone.

I tried to reach out to friends and colleagues but was told countless times that “it wasn't like I lost an actual baby”, that I “needed help” when all I wanted was a hug, that “it was for the best” and that I was just being “impatient”.

I believed them of course. My babies were barely babies. I hadn't lost a “real” baby. I hadn't gone through labour and delivered a still baby. I didn't have a name for them, didn’t know if they were boys or girls. I never saw any of them in any ultrasound. I felt so ashamed for grieving the loss of my babies when I was grieving something that was never really there in the first place. It was very confusing and depressing and I struggled, still struggle with these thoughts.

There were three people who I could talk to about my loss at that point. My husband, my Mum, and someone who unexpectedly has become one of my closest friends. Without her, I’m not sure where I would be in my grief journey, but I am certain I wouldn't be where I am today.

A little over a month earlier she lost her daughter at 39 weeks. She lost her baby girl. She held her daughter in her arms and said hello, then goodbye. But she was the ONE person who told me that mine were real babies too, that they were little lives, not little losses. She was the person who introduced me to Sands.

Sands gave me a safe place, an online haven where I could openly grieve my little babies and talk about our fears of infertility. Speaking with women who had lost babies at all stages of pregnancy and during the neonatal period opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed and it was full of people who just had so much love and support to give, even in their darkest hours. The members of Sands brought me out of a bad place and they gave me hope. But most importantly they gave my babies' little lives recognition. Without any pictures, or proof of ever being pregnant, even for the shortest of time, they still recognized my tiny babies and continue to do so.

The members of Sands are an inspiration. Because of Sands I now have some amazing people in my life who will no doubt always be in my life. And while I can't begin to understand the grief of losing a baby at later stages of pregnancy, even as I watched my closest friend go through exactly that, I am better equipped to give advice and support to them too.

My son is asleep as I write this. There isn't a moment when I am not grateful for the baby we were able to bring home. There are times when I am sad, where I imagine the little people who would be playing in the living room with my son, but I can imagine them and smile through the sadness instead of cry. I am at peace with my losses now and I feel so lucky to be where I am today. Through my son’s pregnancy and with other subsequent pregnancies I know I will continue to have support, and be able to provide support to others. It really doesn't seem enough to say this, but ‘thank you’.

To read more about my journey through miscarriage, TTC, and our rainbow’s pregnancy please visit my blog page at: https://letshaveababybaby.wordpress.com

Annika

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Annika Pearce

My name is Annika and I am a qualified Ambulance Paramedic living in Canberra. I love to be there for others and biology and pre-hospital medicine are a passion I share with my husband, Ben. The light of our lives, Henry, was born at the end of 2014 following a succession of four early miscarriages due to endometriosis. Our biggest Angel, Baby Pearce, who I carried for only 6 weeks at the beginning of 2013 has become the source of my inspiration for blogging and developing a Canberra-based online support group for women who have experienced a pregnancy or neonatal loss. My hope is to create a local support network, where we can share and be there for each other, as Sands created for me. As we begin our journey of conceiving our second rainbow there is still fear, but also hope and excitement.  

You can read Annika's personal blog here

Miscarriage, Infertility, and weight loss

A newcomer to Sands blog, Shanelle shares her experience of infertility, weight loss and a miscarriage...

In my trouble to conceive over four years it was put down to infertility due to hypothyroidism and obesity, it was a huge struggle for me, having conceived my son easily years earlier at 80kg but tipping the scales at 128kg, I had been trying to lose weight for years, exercising, trying every diet under the sun and even three cycles of Clomid with no success.

Low and behold we unexpectedly fell pregnant though ten weeks later we miscarried with doctors and nurses reassuring us that there was nothing I could have done and not to blame myself. Even the gynaecologist performing my D&C said not to blame myself, though my size could have contributed to the miscarriage but it was a fact I had try to accept and not beat myself up about it. After all, these things happened right? And I fully had faith in the wonderful nurses and doctors treating me throughout the whole deal.

Until, two weeks later when I had a follow up appointment with a new gynaecologist for review on an ovary cyst. Asking when it was safe to try conceiving again she replied that at 128kgs I be concentrating on losing weight and not even consider trying for another baby at my size, considering all the health implications like high blood pressure and diabetes. I was devastated; I couldn’t help but cry in front of her, to which she suggested counselling. Here was this lady whom I’d never before, without even asking my medical history (if she had, she would have known I had perfect blood pressure and sugar levels, along with a healthy lifestyle despite my size) judging me and making me feel like I didn’t have the right to have a baby based on my weight. The blame game hit with vengeance. 

I went home and attended I had a follow up scan with my GP for my cysts, and after speaking with him, he prescribed me Duromine to aid in weight loss while I fully recovered from my miscarriage, in hopes it would rally my spirits from what the Gynaecologist had said (all of which he disagreed with.)
Meanwhile I had my scan. It had been 6 weeks.  My world well apart all over again at seeing an empty uterus and a lifeless heart rate monitor, that I ended up taking the Gynaecologist advice and sought out a counsellor through the hospital, despite me being a trainee counsellor myself.  We spoke on the phone for an hour before she decided that what I was experiencing was typical grief and didn’t need to enrolled into their program but to call back, if needed. It made me feel alone, so alone that I alienated everyone and focused on exercising and eating right.

Another month passed and I had lost 5kgs, feeling hopeful at my final gynaecologist visit, I met with her assistant who, when asked when I could try conceiving again told me that she saw no harm in trying considering I was maintaining a healthy lifestyle but she had to ask the gynaecologist to be sure. She returned with the message I should lose at least 20 more kilograms before trying again. Devastated, self-loathing, I left.

It has been two months since that last visit and I feel through the experience judged and completely let down by the public health system, though I know they were only doing their jobs. But if nothing else this experience has made me determined.

Determined not to let my self-worth and confidence to be scarred by opinions, no matter how professional. And with the support my partner and my doctor I had added more and more healthy choices and exercise regimes to my Iifestyle while learning to accept myself for who I am, and better myself not for medical statistics but for myself, my family and my future family.

Shanelle Kay

 

If you require support please call Sands - 1300 0 SANDS

Shanelle Kay

Shanelle is a trainee counsellor and photographer based in Brisbane.
She believes the best sound in the world is her son's laughter and how he sings to himself when he wakes from a nap. She is also a proud mummy to an angel baby and through writing and various arts she is sharing her experience and finding herself, all over again. In her own words...

"I am all and I am nothing, but most importantly I am exactly who I need to

be in this moment... and that is sometimes the hardest thing we have to accept,

 openly and honestly.. Ourselves"