Birth, Death and Beyond

Jackie Barreau, Adelaide author, shares with us an excerpt from her book 'Through a Mother's Eyes'

As I look back on my second pregnancy, and it’s unfortunate ending  - I am extremely thankful that I was able to carry my three other children to term. I also wish I could add they were in good health but that was not the case.  I do know that statistics show 6 babies are stillborn each day. These statistics are still high and yet we seem to avoid talking about child loss. Just like birth is a natural occurrence so too is death.  Elisabeth Kubler -Ross a Swiss-American psychiatrist and author of the book ‘On Death and Dying’ described her five stages of grief as; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance, better known as the acronym DABDA. Kubler-Ross also suffered two miscarriages before giving birth to her two children. Her famous quotes are now shared around the world in social media circles and beyond. It is still a mystery to me that we can openly discuss acts of terrorism and the media can televise beheadings, but we can’t talk openly and honestly about child loss; that it is just to confronting.

Child loss can tear families and relationships apart or it can truly galvanise them. For my husband and I - our marriage has weathered the storm, where many have crumbled ours continues to strengthen. Child loss puts enormous strain and pressure on a relationship. I know so much has changed in the years since Cody died, and the bereavement support offered to families is readily available and accessible, it is so vitally important and necessary in the recovery process. I talk of the word ‘process’ and how grief is just that. We may be getting on with our lives but we will never get over the loss of our children.

In 2013 I published my first book of poetry ‘Through a Mother’s Eyes’ here is an excerpt.

           If the meaning of loss

           is measure by heartache

           and deep and overwhelming grief,

           then maybe we have already

           learnt one of life’s

           most difficult lessons.

           If we quantify each step taken

           forwards rather than backwards

           We will realise that the hardest

           part of the journey

           is already behind us

           It has no boundaries,

           The only ingredient

           being love.

Jackie

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Jackie Barreau

Jackie is a resident of Adelaide, South Australia and a published author. Happily married and a mother of four (two sons in heaven) she also has two teenage daughters. In 1998 her second son Cody was stillborn at 26 weeks, the cause of death an issue with the placenta. Some months later her first born Luke  just 2 yrs old whom was diagnosed with neuroblastoma (cancer) died after a short battle. Jackie's articles on child loss have appeared in www.stillstandingmag.com. She currently writes for www.myinvisiblelife.net a NFP blog for invisible illness and disability. You can also read her own musings at www.lovehopeandcourage.wordpress.com

A New (And Happy) Chapter

Genevieve expresses her thanks to Sands and those that have supported her along her journey of grief following the death of precious Amalie.

     "I want to thank everyone at Sands and the wonderful mums I’ve met online 
      in other forums for their incredible support, care and empathy – both at the 
      time of Amalie’s death and ongoing."

It is 6 months tomorrow since my infant daughter Amalie died.  It seems both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.  I want to thank everyone at Sands and the wonderful mums I’ve met online in other forums for their incredible support, care and empathy – both at the time of Amalie’s death and ongoing.  I won’t go as far as saying I wouldn’t have made it through without you all, but I certainly wouldn’t have made through as well as I have done.  

I can honestly and gratefully report that I’m happy. Not just coping, but truly and deeply happy. A lot of credit goes to my wonderful partner.  It was not easy, but we worked through our grief together and have emerged far stronger as a couple because of it.  This is not for a minute suggesting that there is not still a lot of pain around our loss, and that there always will be.  We have just got better at integrating it, and at celebrating what we have rather than focusing on what we have lost.

We have decided to get married early next year. I know this seems like the wrong order of things, but the piece of paper didn’t seem so important to us before.  We are going to have the wedding at Amalie’s tree (her ashes were scattered in the roots as we planted it) so that she can be there with us.

And in other happy news, I am again pregnant and due in early January 2016. As usual, I’m as sick as a dog  (severe nausea and vomiting) and so the cat is out of the bag (apologies for the mixed animal metaphors).   This is my 7th pregnancy and they’ve all been the same in first trimester, so I wasn’t expecting to get away scot free this time!  So far everything is going as it should, and we’re very excited.

The tide has well and truly turned for us.

Genevieve

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Genevieve Yates

Genevieve is a GP, medical educator, medical writer and musician from the Northern Rivers region of NSW. After a long and difficult road to motherhood, her beautiful daughter, Amalie Ella, was born in December, 2014.  Tragically, Amalie died of neonatal sepsis after only four days.

Through her clinical work, teaching and writing, she hopes to she can use her experiences to help support both patients and other doctors in managing the complex emotions surrounding fertility issues and perinatal loss, and also encourage more open discussion in the general community.

Her website can be found at: http://genevieveyates.com

Father's Day

Corey writes for us about the recent Father's Day.. his sixth without his precious baby that died.

Father’s Day used to be a day that I wasn’t particularly fond of.   It was just another day that had that undertone that it was supposed to be something other than it was, like when you plan a holiday and it’s postponed or cancelled and then that day comes when you were supposed to leave but you’re at work instead.

I do remember my first Father’s Day. My wife did everything she could to make it special for me, she made me breakfast in bed and we spent the day doing fun things but the day had that undertone I mentioned. I would have preferred to sleep the day away but my wife made this plan so that’s what we did. We went and visited the spot where we spread my son’s ashes, and it made me feel both better and worse.

I lost my boy in the November the year the before, so it had been almost a year between when I lost him and while my wound was healing but there was a large scar -  it was still very fresh.

My second Father’s Day was much better, we were trying again to bring a wonderful little person into our life and at this point we had gotten some answers in regards to what had happened and what had gone wrong and what we could to do to virtually assure it wouldn’t happen again. A month later my wife would conceive, and just before Christmas we would find out we were having a wonderful little boy. I went to my son’s spot again, and it was nice to just be there, my heart ached but I needed it.

My third Father’s Day was the best.   He was only a couple of months old but the day had that spark to it. There was that tiny undertone, but I pushed it aside, focused on what I had in front of me and enjoyed the day. Later that day, while my son was asleep, I took a drive to my first son’s spot, and just spent a little bit of time with him, and thanked him, as I knew he had a part to play.

Today’s father’s day will be my 6^th. Got a full day planned: to see my wife’s parents and just basically busy work.  My rainbow is now 3 years old and he is an absolute handful, he made me a wonderful present at kindergarten and that’s all I ever wanted. I finished work early in the morning and on my way home I visited my son’s spot.   I’m not sure why this year feels different, maybe it’s because my life is a little topsy turvey at the moment or maybe it’s because this year I feel as though I have really moved forward on how I handle my grief when it comes to losing my son.  Maybe its guilt as I don’t think about him as often as I should, all I know is that there are many aspects of my life that I feel completely out of control of but when it comes to father’s day and visiting my son, I know he is with me and I feel like I am with him. 

Corey

If you require support after reading this blog please contactSands on 13 000 72637

In Loving Memory of Jeremy

This was the poem that Alisha wrote for Jeremy's funeral.  On August 31st it will be 3 years since he was stillborn, and though in general it gets easier each day, nothing can take away the raw emotion whenever she thinks of him and what could have been.  He was conceived after 3 years of infertility and finally a successful round of IVF.  

Jeremy, my son,

You were my everything,

The miracle I dreamed of

My future in your being.

I couldn’t wait to meet you,

And see who you took after,

Whose eyes you had, whose height,

Whose personality and laughter.

I was going to guide you,

Teach, and watch you grow.

Play with you, and tickle you,

And teach you how to throw.

You would explore and build forts,

Take after Dad and be good at sports.

You’d be handsome, and oh so smart,

But probably not so good at art.

We’d shoot hoops ‘til dark,

Play catch and picnic in the park.

Feed the ducks, go to the zoo,

Have awesome birthday parties, just for you.

I’d make you the coolest wardrobe,

Bake you cookies and treats,

You’d be best friends with Rodrigo,

And Cleo who we’re yet to meet.

We were going to Disneyland,

We’d laugh while waiting in line.

I was going to share my world with you,

As you’re the gift that completed mine.

We built you a beautiful nursery,

Just perfect for my son,

How was I to know,

Your time would never come.

My dreams have been ripped out of me,

You took them when you left,

I’m sure you left for good reason 

And now you are at rest.

All I have is tiny handprints,

And memories in my mind

Of the dreams I’ll never fulfil,

Since you’ll never truly be mine.

My heart will always bleed

For the son I never knew

My Jeremy, my everything

Taken far too soon.

Alisha

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637


Alisha Burns

Alisha is a 35 year old kiwi marketer living in Melbourne and mother of one angel, Jeremy, who was stillborn at 21 weeks in 2012.  Alisha loves exploring the world, impressing people with her ability to walk in 6 inch stilettos, anything Disney, experimenting in the kitchen, pretending she can sing at karaoke. One day she would love a French Bulldog to complete her menagerie if she isn't lucky enough to have children of her own.

You Can Never Get Enough “Stuff”

Tennille shares with us how she has created a story for her precious Oscar with keepsakes and symbols.

     'When you lose a baby you can never have enough “stuff”. You often hear 
      parents of children complain about how cluttered the house is, however 
      when your baby is not here with you, creating memories, keepsakes, collecting 
      bits and pieces which symbolise their life, and show the world that your baby 
      was here, is so important.'

Our son was stillborn at 33 weeks and while I had completed the antenatal classes, read the baby books and prepared all the baby paraphernalia at home, I was so unprepared for what was about to happen. I had no idea what to take to the hospital, or even how the next few days would unfold. In my mind I went to hospital, had a baby then came home. Story over. Not in a suicidal sense, but I just couldn’t see my life beyond coming home from hospital without a baby. In reality, spending a total of four days in hospital, giving birth and being with my baby has changed me forever. The “things” I collected over those few days, the items I brought home with me, some small, some everyday items are some of my most treasured possessions. 

I won’t forget how velvet soft the tiny blue outfit was my sister bought Oscar, which he was cremated in. I have a box with the scissors my husband cut the cord with, his little name card from the hospital, the tape measure to record head circumference. I even kept the poppy that came on my dinner tray for Remembrance Day, that plastic red poppy made me cry so hard for the son I couldn’t keep yet I couldn’t throw anything away from those few days. All this “stuff” acknowledged our son was here on earth, albeit briefly.
Everything for Oscar was blue, a blue jumpsuit, hat, bunny rug and a blue elephant, a gift from his Auntie. There was a caring midwife who I sensed wanted to help us create memories of our little family. At some point she brought us a delicately hand knitted shawl, in baby blue of course. The shawl was long enough to wrap around Oscar and we were able to hold him in this shawl while in hospital. With the shawl were some little felt hearts. The hearts and shawl, we found out are made by people who pray for the recipients and are given to have and hold, while cherishing the memory of lost loved ones. While Mark and I are not particularly religious, the gift was beautiful and I wore that shawls for weeks after coming home. It gave me some comfort, wrapping it around me, the same shawl which had cradled my son. This shawl now lies across our bed every evening, a way for us to be close to our son.

We tucked these little blue hearts into Oscar’s hands and it was our way of asking him to hold our heart and we would hold his. When we left hospital we took our little hearts that he had held for us and left one, tucked in with him. Mark and I each have one with us, which we carry every day. 

Creating a story for Oscar as never something I set out to do. His story just seemed to evolve. A child who I carried for 33 weeks, held in my arms for two days has become such a part of me that his story continues to grow and develop, even though he is no longer here with me. Having keepsakes, using symbolism has been so important for me in the grieving and healing process and gives me a way to continue to include our first born son with his other brothers, who are now 2.5 and 6 months. While this did not take our pain away it provided mementos and memories of our son. And memories and mementos are the most precious things we have.

In the weeks and months following Oscar’s birth, I would desperately seek symbols, ‘presents’ or keepsakes for our son. If I walked past a shop selling elephants, I had to buy one. Any special day (Christmas, Easter, birthdays) there had to be a bunch of blue balloons there. I have since created some small felt elephants, about the same size as the hearts. Oscar’s elephant he received in hospital resonated with me because ‘elephants never forget’. To us it is important to remember all our children, those to come and our baby who is here with us in spirit only.

Tenille

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

Tennille Welsh

Tennille Welsh is a mother to three beautiful boys. Mark (her husband) and Tennille eperienced the stillbirth of their first son Oscar, at 33 weeks gestation in 2011, cause unknown. Tennille lives on a hobby farm with her family and enjoys horse riding, swimming and playing with her children.

Tennille is a teacher, specialising in Japanese, Indonesian and is also a teacher of the Deaf. Since having Oscar Tennille has also become a civil celebrant. She has officiated at several weddings and is considering turning her hand at funerals. Tennille feels giving families the gift of a personalised, and heartfelt farewell, especially for a child is so important and can have a huge impact on the grieving process. Before having Oscar, stillbirth was something Tennille knew nothing about and raising awareness by openly discussing all three of her children has been a passion for her

Haven't Forgotten

Shanelle talks about how difficult it has become to share many of her emotions with her impending due date of her subsequent pregnancy.

      "It’s been an internal conflict ever since. Even now writing this. 

Am I happy for what's to come or am I sad for what I have lost?"

I haven't written in months, not because I had gotten over my loss, on the contrary. 
It became very difficult to share my emotions, even with myself as my due date came along. I was supposed to be holding my baby, not grieving for her and then just weeks before, we found out we were expecting again.

It’s been an internal conflict ever since. Even now writing this. Am I happy for what's to come or am I sad for what I have lost?

The biggest emotion I have now is fear. It has nestled itself into my life like an old friend, haunts me in my dreams and taunts me in my waking hours. It's inescapable. 
I still think about Navie every day and the milestones that have come and gone and now with little less than a month to go til the anniversary of her loss, I am terrified of my reaction. 

Her due date, Mother’s day was hard enough, but this? It consumes my thoughts. 
I try hard to focus on the joy she bought my family and I, and how now, our newest addition kicking and tumbling in my stomach, was sent by her... but it isn't her and I find myself in a fog of sorrow, taking it day by day, breath by breath, waiting for my rainbow to ease the way.

Shanelle

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

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"

Angels and Rainbows

In this blog, Shanelle shares her innermost thoughts about her subsequent pregnancy.

      "You feel so much fear due to the loss of your previous baby that 
       it’s  hard to enjoy this pregnancy even though you know it’s completely 
       different."

It’s always the same.
It may have a different setting, different people and be a different situation but the outcome is always the same.
Something’s wrong. You lost it. It’s too early. Stillbirth. 

No one mentions the irrational fears, the months of nightmares, the crippling fear you experience every time you close your eyes to sleep nor do they mention the guilt for the happiness and joy you feel or the torture you impose on yourself during waking hours when you fall in the “in between.”

The In between... Where you are trying to enjoy your rainbow but are still grieving your angel. 
And unless you have experienced it for yourself it’s hard to understand the internal conflict it puts you through…
The joy of finding out your expecting and the grief you feel as its only days before your angel was due.
Or how on Mother’s day you cry because right now you’re supposed to have your little bundle in your arms yet feel guilty because you’re appreciating (or aren’t) the little kicks and prods you can feel in your womb.
The excitement of looking forward to meeting all the little milestones along the way, the first scan, the second trimester, baby shopping, the first kick and finding out the gender, baby names… while you also count down all the little milestones fear induces making it past your miscarriage date, the first 12 weeks, the scan for a viable heartbeat, the lookout for kicks and movement to know they’re still okay, 24 weeks viability!!

So many emotions, you feel like you’re on a roller coaster, you can go from the highest highs to the lowest lows and you can forget that you aren’t going through it alone and while you could be excited about your scans, your partner doesn’t want to come because he doesn’t want to get attached to this one too or the devastating reality when you’re son asks “is this one going to die too?”

You end up falling into the habit of referring to baby in “ifs” if she makes it, if she survives, if she is born instead of when… when... when…

You feel so much fear due to the loss of your previous baby that it’s hard to enjoy this pregnancy even though you know it’s completely different. You feel guilty when you enjoy it and you feel guilty when you don’t. You feel isolated and stuck because no one tells you it’s okay to grieve for the baby you lost while still enjoying all the miracles this new baby brings. People seem to think that since you’re expecting that the previous baby doesn’t matter and to stop overreacting, stressing as all is well with the world yet they fail to realise that the intense fear of losing this one too is only a natural reaction to the grief of your last and the hopes of your future.

Shanelle

If you require support after reading this blog please contact

Sands on 13 000 72637

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"