Born Still

Testament

2012-01-07T20:44:00.000+11:00

This blog has been a very therapeutic way for me to process and express my grief. Although my grief will never go away, writing has helped me pour out the myriad of emotions and thoughts...and I think it has done its job. The blog began so that I could record Sybella's story, pay tribute to her short life...to recount events of her birth and death to all, so that it was written, proof that she exists, proof that she matters. That she is my daughter. I was desperate to have her acknowledged and writing allowed me to share her spirit and her soul, because physically, I couldnt share her. As I worked through the blog, over 20 months have passed. Sybella would be 20 months old. Writing is incredibly cathartic, and I was able to allow my thoughts to flow onto a keyboard, when my voice couldnt do it. People have been able to see a different side to me than they may in real life. Lots of things that I used to keep quiet about were raised. Passions and beliefs of mine were brought to the forefront. Many were indignant about this, but I dont care. That's what she taught me. To be strong, to be brave. To have conviction. To be at peace with not having to be liked by everyone. Not that I am giving myself permission to be loose and not monitor my words. It's just that I didnt want to be a peacekeeper anymore, and I wanted people to know what was important to me. I also wanted to stand up for those who couldnt stand up for themselves.
I dont know where these changes came from...they have been gradual, and many people have been surprised by them. Truth be told, however: I like myself better this way.
I read something the other day: "Dont underestimate me...until you challenge me."
Never before has one sentence resonated with me so strongly.

The values that have erupted from my conciousness over the last 20 months...are all so important to me. I never knew it, though. She gave me the ability to identify them, and the courage to express them.

I'd still rather have her, though.

Beautiful People

2012-01-07T20:17:00.000+11:00

Tonight I am feeling grateful for all the beautiful mothers out there who have travelled the journey of babyloss grief with me. You know who you are.

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss and have found their way out of the depths.

Beautiful people do not just happen."

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Please Don't Tell Me You Know How I Feel

2012-01-07T20:04:00.001+11:00

Reading though the SANDS SA newsletter a little while ago, I came across this poem that resonated with me quite strongly. Mostly because I am a changed person these days. Very different to who I used to be.
It was written by some friends of a couple who had lost their little grandson to a cerebral bleed shortly after birth. Jonah' story made me cry. So did this poem.

Please don't tell me you know how I feel,

unless you have lost your child too.

Please don't tell me my broken heart will heal,

because that is just not true.

Please don't tell me my son is in a better place,

though it is true, I want him here with me.

Don't tell me someday I'll hear his voice, see his face,

beyond today I cannot see.

Don’t tell me it is time to move on,

because I cannot.

Don’t tell me to face the fact he is gone,

because denial is something I can't stop.

Don't tell me to be thankful for the time I had,

because I wanted more.

Don't tell me when I am my old self you will be glad,

I'll never be as I was before.

What you can tell me is you will be here for me,

that you will listen when I talk of my child.

You can share with me my precious memories,

you can even cry with me for a while.

And please don't hesitate to say his name,

because it is something I long to hear everyday.

Friend, please realize that I can never be the same,

but if you stand by me, you may like the new person I become someday.

This Is Me

2011-11-19T18:37:00.000+11:00

This is one of the most amazing blog posts I have ever read. This spoke to me in volumes. Carly Marie does it once again.

October 15 2011 ~ Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

2011-11-09T20:43:00.001+11:00

On October 15, 2011, it was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Last year, Kelvin and I hosted a candlelit balloon release on the beach for all the families who had lost children. We had dreams of hosting a large gathering every year, and wanted to be able to give these families an opportunity to commemorate their babies annually. However, this year, with a new baby and a little boy who was still finding his feet at school, we opted for a smaller, more intimate event with close friends only. It was lovely, and I was able to honour Sybella and really be in the moment, be in touch with my feelings...as much as I enjoyed hosting last year's event, I didnt get much time to focus on Sybella myself. I was very busy making sure everything was running smoothly. So it was lovely, this year, to just have a little picnic with some other babyloss parents, then move to a secluded little area and release balloons for our babies. The weather was gorgeous, a light breeze blew, and it was comforting and serene. After our little gathering, I went home with my family and we spent some quality time together. Just being together, feeling the profundity of the occassion and remembering the little girl who is such a huge part of our family but just isnt here with us. At 7pm, we lit our candles for the Wave of Light and we kept it burning for one hour. I always get especially emotional when I light a candle for Sybella. I am not sure why. Perhaps because the fragility of the flame reminds me so much of her little life. Just snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

On October 14 2011, the NSW government officially declared October 15 as Pregnancy and Inant Loss Remembrance Day across the state. While this is an enormous step forward and a key moment in ceasing the silence of infant loss, the next move is to have this day recognised across Australia. PILARI have begun an initiative to achieve this recognition. If you would like to join the initiative, you can click here to sign the petition and email your local MP.

Kristina and Caroline

2011-11-01T14:08:00.001+11:00

Last night, Australian Story on ABC1 featured Kristina Keneally, former Premier of the Australian Labor Party. Kristina gave birth to Caroline, who was stillborn. Caroline had a fatal birth defect and died upon delivery. The episode was compelling and powerful. This woman is an inspiration, not only to babylost mothers, but to women everywhere.

I have always found her to be very dynamic and have liked her strength and fearlessness. This was before I was aware that she had suffered the stillbirth of her daughter.
What resonated with me the most, was again, just how much I could relate to the things she was saying about her experience. I find it truly remarkable that so many women who suffer infant loss say exactly the same things.

Kristina's husband, Ben said: "A few days later we went back to the hospital. It was very strange being in a maternity hospital and knowing that there were children being born all around and that that wasn’t going to happen for us."
Oh snap. I was hearing the first cries of babies being born in the birthing suite next door as I laboured with Sybella. I had a hard time believing that my own baby wasnt going to make a sound when she came out. It was an intensely painful feeling.

Kristina comments: "I do remember coming home and there was that damn vacuum cleaner. I just threw it and I broke it. Before I went to hospital I had been there with my normal life doing normal things like vacuuming - and when I got back my normal life was still there, but it wasn't. It was so vastly different. And that vacuum cleaner just seemed to symbolise all of that."
I remember leaving for my routine 34 week appointment with my GP. As I walked out the door, I noticed a giant bird dropping on the outdoor steps. I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to get Kelvin to scrub it off. Of course, it was at that appointment that I learned that Sybella had died. I didnt return home again until after I had delivered her and spent some time in hospital. That was about four days. When I got home, the bird dropping was still there. I looked at it incredulously, wondering how on Earth things had changed so much since I last looked at that damn thing.

Kristina goes on to say: "The absolute sadness of becoming the mother of a stillborn child, of Ben and I becoming the parents of a stillborn daughter. We felt like we were entering a club we didn’t know existed. We felt like we didn’t want to become members of this club..."
It is a horrible club to belong to, yet, some of the women I have met through our experiences have been the most understanding, gentle yet strong women I know. Each and every one of them fight for their child's memory. They dont allow their child to be forgotten, just because that child isnt physically present. These women are the most beautiful mothers I know. Isnt that bittersweet, that the most beautiful mothers are ones who dont have their children in their arms?
The palpable sadness of being the parent of a dead child stays with you every day. You are reminded all the time, at all the special occassions...Christmas, birthdays. You never stop wondering what your baby would be doing at that time, if they were here. It's just so sad.

One particulalrly poignant question that Kristina asks is: "It’s the biggest question women ask themselves - Why did this happen? Why did this happen to my baby? Why did this happen to me?"
How many times have I asked myself that? I spent Jack's entire infancy trying to protect him from harm. SIDS terrified me. The thought of one of my children dying (before it had actually happened) sent me into panic and I couldnt bear the thought of it. I read stories in magazines about women who had lost children, and I often cried. I couldnt imagine it happening to me. So why did it? Why was I chosen to be a babylost mother? I dont think it is fair. It's not fair that children die at all. I've learned just how redundant it is to ask 'why?'

Kristina says this, and this is self explanatory. She echoes the thoughts of probably every woman who has lost a baby. "Stillbirth is a tragedy...it was most remarkable to me how much I could love a tiny little baby who had never drawn breath. It’s impossible to compare the loss of Caroline to anything else I’ve experienced. The loss of a child stays with you forever."
I couldnt have said it better myself. Sybella's death was such a defining moment for our family. And the worst thing that has ever happened to us. Nothing else comes close.

Her final and most profound comment is: "I know something you guys don’t know. I know something about me that you guys don’t know and that is that I am tougher than you understand. I am tougher than you think because I have been through something truly awful and I have survived it. I’ve come out the other end."
It's true. You can deal with anything once you've dealt with this. It makes you so tough. Sometimes being that tough is tiring. But it makes you a better mother, I think. It makes me fiercely protective of my living children, which is why I advocate so strongly for childhood vaccinations. It makes me careful and aware of their safety at all times. It makes me live for their happiness and security. And it gives me the voice and the inclination to spread awareness about stillbirth and to keep the memory of Sybella alive. Because stillbirth and infant loss make some people uncomfortable...so being tough ensures that I can keep on keeping on in regards to my daughter and her memory.

You can read the full transcript or watch this episode of Australian Story here.

Offspring

2011-10-09T15:55:00.002+11:00

I havent written in a long time, I know. It has nothing to do with not needing to write, or that I dont think about Sybella. I need to write just as often as ever, but as those of you with babies know, there is barely time for a bathroom stop, let alone blogging at the moment. Archie is a happy, cuddly, smiley, babbly baby. But he doesnt SLEEP! And so I am exhausted beyond belief. Sometimes to the point of tears. This evening was one such time. Last night, I dont think I had any real, deep sleep at all, but was in the "twilight" zone. My mind was in a dream state, I was partly awake the entire night as Archie fussed and fed.

Me and sleep deprivation dont go together. At all. When I get to the point where I'm crying, I have to mentally slap myself to remind myself that I have a baby who is alive. That's all that matters. And one day, I will sleep again.

Archie and I had a bath tonight, and I got into bed at 7pm, started to breastfeed him and catch up on the second season of Offspring, an Australian television show, about Nina Proudman, an obstetrician.

Some of you may know the significance of Offspring, especially Season 2, Episode 7, 22 minutes and 23 seconds in.

A baby is stillborn.

Offspring got it right. For those of us who have lived through it, we were that mother. I felt like I was living it again. I felt like I was on the screen, I felt like I was watching myself. I was paralysed with stomach churning anxiety while the events played on the screen, until Nina Proudman, upon being asked by the mother if she could see her baby, walked down the corridor of the hospital, swaddled baby in arms while a song played, the lyrics as apt as can be:

I told you. I told you I'd be here.

And I feel you. I feel you disappear.

I'll give you... I'll give you all you want.

I'll watch you.

Then I couldnt help the tears that fell from my eyes, I cried so hard, that to call it "crying" isnt even right. It was face-soaking, gulping, blurry, temperature raising, grief and I could hardly bear the pain that was swirling in me. Salty tears dripped onto Archie's head and I buried my face in his soft neck while Kelvin stroked my arm. For that moment, I missed her like I couldnt believe and I wondered how on Earth I had gotten this far without her.

When the mother learns the news, she looks around in bewilderment, she begins to shake. The mother sobbed. She heaved with sobs. She swings between hyperventilating and holding her breath. I did that. I couldnt catch my breath. I remember, with every millisecond that passed after I had the information that Sybella had died, I couldnt believe it. All I wanted was to go back to the moment before I lay on that ultrasound table, when my world was normal again. How a world can change in the space of 30 seconds.

When she meets her baby, her expression swings between despair and grief but amazement and wonderment and pride at what she had created. How did they know? The Offspring people? How did they know that we screamed and beat our breasts and grieved our dead babies but still wanted to show them off? "Look! Look what I made! She isnt alive, but isnt she beautiful?"

It takes something like that, even though it is a TV show, to refresh the feelings, smells, and ambience of that time in our lives. Humans are made so that initial levels of new and fresh grief and anxiety have no choice but to dssipate in their intensity, as we cannot survive with those high levels of emotion. I'm constantly sad and miss Sybella crazily, but I havent felt that raw, trembling grief in nearly 18 months. It left me drained and wrung out and exhausted. But I am glad I had the opportunity to "feel" it, because it took me to a space of just her and I.

It was an impressive effort from Offspring, and I commend the writers, producers, directors and actors involved in that particular episode. I thank them for their courage at tackling such a "taboo" topic so respectfully and gently.

Walking Her Down The Aisle

2011-06-20T11:32:00.000+10:00

A while ago, Kelvin and I attended a wedding. It was lovely. I love weddings.
The bride's father's speech went something like this: (Paraphrasing here)...

"When J was born, my wife asked if I wanted a boy or a girl. As a man, most would think that I wanted a boy. But I didnt. I wanted a girl. When my wife asked why, I explained that on the day of my daughter's wedding, I couldnt wait to be the man who got to walk her proudly down the aisle. I considered it an honour and a priviledge to have daughter that I could walk down the aisle."

I listened to this and my heart melted. I felt my husband reach for my hand and when I turned to look at him, his eyes were filled with tears.

He'll never get to do that.

Anxiety

2011-06-20T11:09:00.001+10:00

I am a long time sufferer of anxiety, long before I lost my baby girl. I deal with anxiety constantly, and have done for a long time. It is debilitating for me, and difficult for those close me to understand and validate. I dont choose to be anxious, it is an innate facet of my personality. I dont choose it and I dont enjoy it. However, I also dont give in to it. Well, I try. I am not always successful. But I consciously work extremely hard to run my anxiety out of Dodge, and some times are more successful than others. I refuse to say this, though: "It is who I am. Deal with it." I refuse to let anxiety win. But it is two steps forward, one step back. Always.
Yes, anxiety is a huge part of me. But I constantly challenge it. It doesnt always seem like that to the outsider. But for me to physically manifest an overcoming of an anxious compulsion, it takes an incredible amount of work inside my mind first.
So, for someone like me, the experience of a stillbirth is so terribly unfair. Because now I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder too, and this manifests itself in a panicky fear for the wellbeing of my children. I am incredibly vigilant regarding the health and safety of my sons. I am perpetually fearful that one or both of them will die too.
Right now, a Whooping Cough epidemic rages in NSW. There is not much that I can really do about this, except vaccinate Archie on time (even early), restrict visitors who havent had a Pertussis booster, restrict Archie's trips outdoors, and when I do have to go out with him, cover him in the pram.
Many people think this is over the top. My own husband included. And my psychologist.
I have spent many years appraising my anxiety, calculating risk, cognitively assessing actual threat and deciding whether my anxiety was warranted. Many times it wasnt.

Not this time. This time it is valid.

I resent the fact that because I have a history of anxiety, I am now "tainted" as though "the boy who cried wolf." Anxiety was not something that I liked about myself. My fears, even though they seemed stupid to someone else, were very real to me. And as I slowly got better, I saw that my fears were silly. But now, when I am presented with a very real threat, and a viable risk, like Whooping Cough, I am treated again as if I am overreacting. It is thought that it is my anxiety disorder shining through.
Well, it isnt. Yes, I have anxiety. Yes, I see that my fears may have burdened you in the past. Yes, I take responsibility for the fact that you may not take me seriously now.

But I have a new baby. A new baby, born after a stillbirth. A new baby who spent 4 days in Neonatal Intensive Care with respiratory distress. A new baby who was hospitalised at 8 weeks old with Bronchiolitis.
My fears about Whooping Cough are valid. And realistic. I am a mother who will protect my children at any cost, even if it seems dumb to you. If you havent lost a baby...if you havent held your lifeless child in your arms...if you arent a mother...you wont get it.

If you urge me to take the cover off my pram "to challenge myself and see that nothing will happen"...I wont.
If you urge me to let a stranger hold my baby in a resturant...I wont.
If you are a selective vaccinator and think it is unneccessary that I got myself a Whooping Cough booster...it isnt.
If you think I am militant and fanatical...I am.

Because they are my children. And I cant lose another one.

Birthmarks

2011-05-23T12:57:00.000+10:00

Whooping Cough

2011-05-23T12:04:00.001+10:00

Some might be put off by what I am about to post. But I am at the end of my tether. I have no patience left, I have no tolerance left. I have no more polite "ah, yes, it's all a parent's choice, innit?" benign smiles left.
A serious Whooping Cough epidemic rages and I have a three month old baby. A baby who has only been eligible for one Pertussis vaccine so far. He isnt due for his next one until June 21st. Let me tell, you, I am crossing off the days until then. He isnt fully protected from Pertussis until he is six months old. How horrible and wrong that I am wishing away my baby's youth, I am pushing and hoping for the day that he is six months old and can receive his Pertussis booster because of misinformation, lack of education and unfounded fears regarding vaccines. I cant enjoy this beautiful period, I live in fear that he will contract Whooping Cough and I am desperate for him to be older so he can be safely immunised.
I fear every time I take Jack to school. I tense up every time I hear someone cough. Am I paranoid? Am I overreacting? Maybe. I take precautions to protect Archie. I limit my social life to keep him indoors. When forced to go out, he stays in the pram with a cover over the top.
Recently, Archie was in hospital with Bronchiolitis. He currently suffers a post viral cough. Here is what I do: I document the time of every cough and the number of coughs per coughing episode. I have had him swabbed for Pertussis, just in case what I think is a post viral cough is actually the start of this insidious disease. I have a script for prophylactic antibiotics on standby, just in case. I stupidly google the stories of Carter Dube and Dana McCafferey, newborn victims of Pertussis, to see if Archie is exhibiting any symptoms that those babies began with at the start of their illness.

If you are a parent who has lost a child, you may understand my anxiety. Going to extreme lengths to protect your other children from a potentially life threatening illness may not be unreasonable. Others may think I'm a lunatic. Or overprotective. Thank God I have never watched my baby cough for one minute straight, experience apnea, cyanosis and I never want to. Tragically, as vaccination rates drop, chances that more and more newborns will contract Whooping Cough rises.

Here I go:
If you dont vaccinate, you are responsible for the decrease in herd immunity. The prevalence of vaccine preventable diseases increases and this is on your heads and your heads alone.
It is your fault that parents with new babies fear going out in public. It is your fault that social lives are stunted, anxiety is increasing and babies are getting sick.
Prepare to be ostracized as disease rates increase.
By all means, do your research. Anti vaxxers bleat that they've done their "research." Unfortunately, their "research" is not evidence or science-based. It more often than not comes from dubious, unsubtantiated sources such as Natural News and Dr Tenpenny, two of the most dangerous and frighteningly diabolical sites for vaccine information. People who trust these sites lack critical thinking skills and even basic intelligence. Offensive, perhaps, but I firmly believe it. Google is not a research tool.

Please get your Pertussis booster. Many dont realise that this immunity wanes after ten years. Anyone in contact with a new baby needs this booster if they havent had one in the last 3-5 years, to be safe. Our family is completely up to date. It is the best gift we could give Archie. Dont be worried about "toxins". None are are dangerous as the Bordetella Pertussis toxin, that causes the coughing episodes may leave babies not only breathless but without oxygen. Infants are also at high risk for secondary bacterial pneumonia. They are also at risk for neurologic complications such as seizures and encephalopathy as a result of hypoxia from coughing or possibly from the bacterial toxins.

Get your booster. Immunise your kids. If you dont, you are a fool.

Broken Hearts - Finnan's Gift to the Royal Children's Hospital

2011-05-23T10:58:00.002+10:00

Please donate to Finnan's Gift.

Support through Finnan’s Gift will play a vital role in securing the new echocardiography scanner for the Cardiology Department at The Royal Children’s Hospital, Melbourne.

Out-Grieve Me

2011-05-16T19:06:00.001+10:00

A Letter

2011-05-16T18:59:00.001+10:00

Thank you. For telling me I could rely on you. But I couldn’t.
Thank you. For earnestly telling me to call you any time, day or night with any problem. But when I did, it wasn’t okay.

You pretended that you understood what giving birth to a dead baby was like. You had no idea.

If you did understand...

You wouldn’t have told me my anxiety in my subsequent pregnancy was abnormal. It wasn’t abnormal. What IS normal when your baby is dead and you carry a new one? Your body and world are filled with fear and grief. And a smidgen of hope. Just a smidgen.

If you did understand...

You would have smiled more. In a nice way. Not the smile you did as you joked about what a pain I was.

If you did understand...

You would have known when I had given birth to Archie. You never even checked.

If you did understand...

You wouldn’t have told me that other babylost mothers didn’t act like me.

You would have seen I was struggling and taken it seriously.

She was my baby. I knew her from the inside. She died. Her birth and death damaged me in a way that will never heal.

You have five children and never, thankfully, had to have a funeral for any of them. Lucky you.

You don’t understand.

Sybella's Birthday

2011-05-10T14:09:00.000+10:00

On the 24th of April, 2011, Sybella turned one. Except she's our Forever Baby. I wonder what she'd have been like, running around here at age one. I wonder who she'd look like. I wonder what her laugh would sound like. Would she have curls? Brown eyes? Shy or outgoing? Soft little voice or loud like her big brother? Would she enjoy quiet activities like painting and tea parties, or would she zoom around at a million kilometres an hour? Creative? Musical?

Who knows? I just have to imagine.

We commemorated her birthday on a quiet Saturday afternoon at the beach. We threw some petals in the ocean and let one pink balloon go...each year we will release the number of balloons that correlate with her age. This year was one. Next year will be two. And so on. I feel there is something beautifully melancholic about that symbolism.

Happy birthday, my Petal. We love you.

Mothers Day

2011-05-08T10:29:00.001+10:00

On this Mothers Day of 2011, I wish to thank the three incredible children that allowed me the privilege of becoming a mother:

And the man who gave them to me:

What IS That Feeling?

2011-04-20T10:15:00.002+10:00

At the risk of sounding smug and/or corny, it's happiness.

Pure, unadulterated happiness. Contentment. Peace. Serenity.
For the first conscious time in my life, maybe.

I am filled with love and smiles, despite enduring a parent's worst nightmare. It's like she surrounds me like a cloak and her heavenly, pure love infiltrates my being and our family.

Everything has a silver lining now. Torrential rain? Time to curl up and cuddle with those boys of mine. Sky high electricity bill? A thankful nod that I have a clothes dryer with a newborn. Sleepless newborn nights? Doesnt bother me one iota.

It sounds strange that I could feel like this, when I have a dead child. How can you feel ultimate happiness when you have a dead baby? But I answer with: She sends us the happiness. She must.

For once in my life, I dont have a "goal." I'm not reaching for something. I am content to just "be." Everytime I complete a "project" I look forward to the next thing to accomplish. Married? Now to have a baby. Baby? Now to move to a bigger house. Bigger house? Now to have another baby. That's where I got stuck. The "another baby" part. After enduring infertilty, a full pregnancy and a stillbirth, I thought I'd never be able to give Jack a sibling. It was an exhausting time in our lives, and devastating. And pretty much all up to me, as the woman and childbearer. My body and my emotions.
It is disconcerting, however, not to have another immediate "goal." We do have more to accomplish, but we are not in a position right now to do it (travelling/renovating.)
Out of habit, my mind started to think about the next thing I could do. Since Archie is such an easy, placid baby, I naturally started to think that I could have more children. I always wanted lots of children, but after post partum anxiety with Jack, a stillbirth and an intensly torturous anxious pregnancy with Archie, I dont think I have the emotional resources to go through it once again.
A very wise friend said to me, as I confessed my desires: "Not many of us experience the utter contentment and peace that you are experiencing right now. Dont use this as a launching pad for something else. Just be present with it." Well, we dont call Gary the Grand Poombah for no reason.

So, I cook dinner while I listen to Jack read. I walk past the baby and smile as I watch him smile in his sleep. I lie on the grass with both little boys and point out cloud figures. I applaud Jack as he writes a sentence on his own. I sit and rock Archie to sleep as I look out the window. I enjoy coffee (decaf!) and spending time discussing awesome topics with my friends in a hilarious manner. I relish Clean Sheet Day. I move slowly, and no longer rush.

It's the little things, isnt it?

And I realise...all I wanted...all I strived for...was to get to a place in life where I didnt have to strive anymore.

The Road MORE Travelled

2011-04-19T11:37:00.004+10:00

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost

I wish this were true of me. In reality, I did everything by the book, in the right order and didnt spend much time having a lot of "fun." I finished Year 12 after studying crazy hard. Got a great result in my HSC, and went straight to Uni to study Education. I didnt have a gap year, and I went straight through my course without any time off. I finished University, and by this time I had met Kelvin, we had bought a unit and were living together. We dated the appropriate amount of time before we moved in together. We lived together for the appropriate amount of time before we got engaged. We had a traditional wedding, I fell pregnant with Jack within three months, and through this time, I was working as a Grade 1 teacher. We lived in our unit for a while, sold it, and moved to a townhouse. After two years, we sold that and moved to our beautiful home. I had a lovely, comfortable, predictable life and I was happy. But it just wasnt all that interesting. I didnt have children out of wedlock, I didnt run off and bartend instead of getting a degree, I never travelled, I never crashed a car, I never even maxed out a credit card. I was Responsible with a capital R. And boring.

When Sybella died, I wanted to rebel. I wanted to do things differently. I wouldnt have changed my life for anything or the way I had pursued my goals, because I think that the road I took led me to having my beautiful daughter who changed everything, for better and for worse. But NOW, I was desperate to break the mould. I wanted to shave my head. I wanted to forget about the mortgage and live in a teepee. I wanted to change the world for families that had stillbirths. I wanted to write a book and study midwifery. I would be good at it. I was stuck in this mentality that I didnt have permission to deviate from the norm. I had done everything the "right" way and I suddenly wished that I was brave enough to stop worrying about money and just do what I wanted to do. It sounds a bit selfish, I guess, to ask Kelvin to support me while I ran off and had an Eat Pray Love moment, and I never ended up doing it anyway. I wanted to, though. And I still might. I might, if the opportunity arises, go and study midwifery. I might write a book. But in all seriousness, what will probably happen is that I will continue to mother my two beautiful boys and go back to work as a teacher when Archie is old enough. Then Kelvin and I will probably moved to a bigger, nicer house and think about travelling around with our boys.
My life is not at all mediocre, and neither am I. My family are incredibly special people and I have been touched by an experience that gave my character even more depth than it had already. That sounds self absorbed, but I am being truthful. I have always been a thinker, an observer and have been different from most people.

What I am trying to say in an incredibly muddled way is that although my life and my decisions have been fairly ordinary, they led me to a place, and to people (my husband, my sons and my daughter) that are particularly extraordinary.

Sing You Home

2011-04-08T12:23:00.000+10:00

Have you read this? Jodi Picoult is one of my favourite fiction writers. Her subject matter is both controversial and able to hit home to the deepest part of a person's psyche. I read and often wonder what I would do in her characters' position.

The synopsis of the book is as follows (taken from www.jodipicoult.com)

Zoe Baxter has spent ten years trying to get pregnant, and after multiple miscarriages and infertility issues, it looks like her dream is about to come true – she is seven months pregnant. But a terrible turn of events leads to a nightmare – one that takes away the baby she has already fallen for; and breaks apart her marriage to Max.

Zoe has a stillborn baby, born at 28 weeks, due to a placental abruption and rare clotting disorder. The stillbirth part of the novel is actually very short, but my goodness, does it hit home. I dont believe Picoult has had a stillbirth herself, but she must have done a damn lot of research to be able to convey the feelings of the character and the stillbirth experience so adeptly.

Reading this chapter brought it all back. The thing is, I cant write the feelings of that time. I can write about the experience and I can describe what happened, but that time of my life has an ambience attached to it that cant be written. Simple things, like the type of weather at that time of year and how it made me feel (crisp, bright autumn weather), smells, perspectives. I cant write those.
However, Picoult could write it. And when she did, it all came rushing back. It's like it was happening to me all over again. I smelled the smells, I remembered the ambience. I was back in April 2010, not April 2011.
It broke my heart.

The book is worth reading, however, especially for survivors of infant loss and those who endured infertility, in particular, IVF procedures.

I wish I could sing her home.

Alisa, Oliver and Finnan

2011-04-02T18:55:00.000+11:00

Alisa Campelin, Olympic gold aerial skiier, and her husband Oliver lost their little boy, Finnan on March 20. He was only 10 days old. Finnan was born 6 weeks premature, had a heart defect and endured a number of surgeries in his short life. You can read about their heartbreaking loss here.

I am a stillbirth sufferer and I have said this before, but my God, what we went through was bad enough...but to watch your child fight, connected to tubes, enduring surgeries, then to finally hold them and watch them close their eyes and take their last breaths...unimaginable.
I am even stronger in my opinion and feelings after witnessing the brave families in the NICU while Archie was in there. Premature babies, babies with serious health problems...all tiny, all attached to monitors, tubes. All their parents living day by day in a world of fear, when things can change suddenly and nothing is guaranteed. Strongest, bravest families I have witnessed in a long time.

Everytime I hear of a "new" family entering the world of baby loss, I feel the raw pang of pain all over again. It stabs my heart, tears flow as I think of another tiny life taken. It stabs at me as I imagine the impossible days ahead for that family. It feels like me all over again.

Wishing for Sybella to meet Finnan in Heaven and help him settle in with the other angel babies. I know she will look after him.

He Saved Me

2011-04-02T18:30:00.000+11:00

He's Heaven sent, this boy. I had no idea that I was able to have, and even deserved to have, a happy postnatal experience. Because I have never had one.
When Jack was born, I suffered from severe post natal anxiety. Not depression, but anxiety. I was a wreck of nerves, in disbelief that I had full responsibility for this life and somehow had to keep this baby alive. I couldnt fathom the fact that my life had changed forever and this made me incredibly nervous. I couldnt eat or sleep. I sat awake all night watching Jack breathe. I had heart palpitations whenever I crossed the road, sure that a vehicle was going to send me and the stroller flying. I was convinced that Jack would be a victim of SIDS and I wished the first six months away, wanting him to get to the "safe" age. Eventually I fell in step with motherhood, but it was a good two years before it even occurred to me to have another baby. A second baby simply hadnt registered on my richter scale, the idea was as foreign as me not vaccinating (ha!)
So when I had trouble getting pregnant, I felt worried that I would never have another chance at experiencing early motherhood in a positive way. When I was pregnant with Sybella, I ensured I had all strategies in place to enable me to transition into motherhood easily. By now, I recognised my anxiety triggers, had a great psychologist, was in a better financial position. I didnt expect to experience post natal anxiety with the same intensity as I did with Jack. But Sybella died. I was robbed of my chance to make up for that awful post partum period I had with my first baby. My first post partum experience was a mess of anxiety, my second one was a mess of grief and guilt and all that goes with it.
I became convinced I would never be able to enjoy a new baby in the beautiful, Huggies-advertisment way that I had wanted to.

But I did. It started on February 21. I fell in love, immediately, with a bald, fat, screaming male.

I expected to crash and go through the same anxiety as I did in 2006. But it never came. I returned from hospital, on an even keel. I had little bouts of anxiety (what was that mark? Why is he coughing? Is it Whooping Cough? Why is his poo green? Is he anaemic? Is his glucose high enough?) but eventually, I started to tell myself that this boy, this little baby, was sent to us and that he is whole, healthy and strong. Because he is. Didnt I deserve to enjoy him? Didnt I deserve to be a "normal" mother with a new baby, who thinks "nothing bad will happen to me"?
You see, stillbirth and neonatal death ruins a person. It damages you and your confidence. You have absolutely no faith that you will be the one to get the happy ending. You constantly think that if anything terrible can happen, then it will happen...to you. If a baby can get Whooping Cough, then it will be mine who does. There simply was no other option. Before Archie was born, the idea of a live birth was foreign and surreal. The natural outcome for me, in my messed up, broken mind, was that most babies are born dead, and you are lucky if you get a live one. What the shit is that about? Certainly not normal.
Eventually, with a lot of work and cognitive thinking, I started to believe that God and the Universe didnt have an agenda, they werent out to smite me and me alone, and maybe...just maybe, I was about to have a beautiful and organic postnatal experience. Archie keeps thriving, he's happy and fat and schmoopy. I have never felt more at peace. I have never felt more content. It is an unsettling feeling! Only because I am not used to it. For once, the world is my oyster. Everything is within reach. I have two beautiful boys and an angel daughter. Archie is a particularly easy baby. He feeds within ten minutes, knows night from day already and...get this...he sleeps! All I have to do is wrap him, stick a dummy in, and he is out to it. Opposite to Jack, who needed rocking for hours.
Finally. I got my happy ending.

I love him. He gave me back everything that had been taken from me in the past. He saved me.

Archie

2011-03-18T13:00:00.001+11:00

Jack and Sybella's brother, Archie was born on February 21. You can read his birth story here.

As it stands, he is a beautiful little boy who has given our family its peace back. Sybella brought us spiritual peace, but this is different. This is an accomplishment, a feeling of contentment, a crossing of the finish line. The weeks preceding his birth were some of the hardest of my life. Up there with the weeks following Sybella's death. Both those experiences tested me beyond what I ever thought I could endure. He is here now, safe and sound and I feel complete. I feel happy. I also feel a hole...Archie's presence serves to remind me that Sybella isnt here. But I feel philosophical about it. Sybella had a purpose. She served her purpose, only by gracing our family for a short while. If we hadnt conceived Sybella when we did, and had she not have died, we wouldnt have Archie. Archie's body and soul were obviously meant to walk this Earth, but Sybella's wasnt. I have no place to question that, it is the business of God and/or the Universe. Of course, there is an element of bittersweet-ness about this concept. Two of my children couldnt be here together. One had to die so another could be born. Kind of heart-wrenching. To think I easily could be chasing an 11 month old little girl around, but not have my newborn son...or the reality, which is that I have my newborn son but my beautiful daughter is dead, forever to be a newborn herself. She should be 11 months old...but she isnt.

Her birthday approaches. How does one commemorate the first birthday of a child who died before she was born?

I do know that we will all spend it together...Kelvin, myself, Jack and Archie. We will do something simple but pretty. Our two beautiful sons will grow up knowing all about their sister. Jack will remember her. Archie will learn about her.

Packing Her Away

2011-02-10T18:07:00.001+11:00

As our Rainbow Baby prepares to be born, I had to begin thinking about clearing out Sybella's room that we had so lovingly set up for her early last year. I had to clear out the cupboard, full of her freshly washed and folded clothes. I put this task off for as long as I could. Then one day, without even thinking about it, I walked into the room and just started doing it. I pulled pictures off the wall, sheets off the cot. I unplugged the lamp and pulled all the clothes out of the cupboard. I did all of this in about ten minutes, as brutally as ripping off a bandaid as quickly as possible. I didnt let myself think about what I was doing. That was probably a bad idea, because later on, the guilt flooded in and I sobbed as I apologised to Sybella for "packing her away." I had a large plastic box on wheels and all of her belongings went in there. All her beautiful, girly things. I dont know what we will do with them. A few neutral items are able to be reused for Rainbow Baby, so I put them aside for him. In the VERY UNLIKELY event that we have another baby, and it happens to be a girl, I have no problem reusing Bella's clothes for her. Otherwise, after waiting an appropriate length of time (like, ten years), I will probably donate the items to charity. Or maybe I'll just keep them forever and bring them out occassionally to smell and cry over.

The funny thing is, even though Rainbow Baby is eleven days away from being born, we still say "Sybella's room." Maybe it will always be her room.

Restricted Access

2011-01-25T14:06:00.000+11:00

Mmm, so I have had to change the status of Born Still from open to restricted/invited readers only. I'll briefly explain why, and the reason has outraged me.
Okay, so it is no secret that I am staunchly pro-vaccine. I post, with other like minded parents, doctors and scientists on a certain pro-vaccine fan page on Facebook. My posts and comments, although sometimes have an air of frustration towards anti-vaccinationists, are never rude, insulting or threatening. I do not think that vaccinating is a matter of choice, because it is a community health issue. A decision not to vaccinate affects vulnerable members of the community. However, I still respect that people who dont vaccinate are still people, and parents who want to do the right thing by their kids. Therefore, I merely try and put forward correct, science and evidence based arguments to these people and try to debunk the flurry of misinformation swirling around, with the help of other extremely intelligent pro-vax participants. I do so in a polite and reasonable manner. So do my compatriots. It is something that we are proud of.
On the flipside, the anti vaccinationists who challenge us have proven themselves incapable of holding an intelligent debate, have resorted to name calling, threats and insults in an attempt to try and further their anti-vax stance. Obviously, trying to participate in a debate with people who use these particular tactics is futile.
Amongst my comments on this fan page, I have made it known that Sybella was stillborn, and that as a parent of a baby who has died, I advocated for vaccines because I shudder when I hear of infants dying of Pertussis when it is thoroughly preventable.
However, some anti-vaxxers have since stated that I paraded around on the fan page, claiming that Sybella died from a vaccine preventable illness. They stated that I lied about the way that Sybella died for no other reason than to strengthen my pro-vax stance. They have searched me on Google, found this blog, and directed all their anti-vax cronies over here to stalk my dedication to my daughter, my online memorial, my deepest, most personal raw anguish. I dont want their nasty, unempathetic, uncompassionate words muddying up Sybella's site. So I have had to restrict access. Unfortunately.
And, of course, I have never said anything that suggested Sybella died from a vaccine preventable illness. I stated outright that she was stillborn. I have the thread links to prove it. These grown women are simply targeting a vulnerable person, who they dont even know, without any knowledge of what I have been through...just because they can. Just because I dont agree with them. Just because I vaccinate and they dont.
Grown women. Huh. It's kind of revolting to read what they have written about me.
Rest assured, they were all on the receiving end of my anger when I read their posts. And do they apologise? No. Do they attempt to defend themselves? Yes. Do they remark that I have blown things out of proportion? Yes.
Sure, ladies. I'll sit back as you accuse me of lying about my daughter's cause of death, call me sick and ask "what kind of person does that??" Well, since I didnt do it, I have nothing to say about it.

So that is that. The lack of humanity is frightening. I am just so glad that I went ten months before I "met" people like this.

I Have A Daughter

2011-01-02T15:42:00.000+11:00

You have to excuse my lack of posts of late. I'm on struggle street, emotionally and physically. My posts will probably become more and more infrequent as the baby's birth draws closer. I hate that this time is taken away from Sybella, but I am so completely paranoid that I need to concentrate on being vigilant about this baby's wellbeing.
I am finding myself at the hopsital every second day or so for CTG monitoring. It is the only time I feel relaxed, those 20-30 minutes or so where I can actually hear the regular thumping of our baby's heartbeat.
I turned up the other day for a CTG and had to have it done in the recovery section, as the normal room was occupied. There are 4 beds in recovery, mainly for women who have just had a cesearean. I was lying in my little curtained-off section, listening to the heartbeat, when a fairly young woman was wheeled in with her new baby. She was accompanied by her mother and partner. I couldnt see her, but I could hear her tinny, very young-sounding voice.
"Ohhhhhhhh. I have a dauuugghhhttterrrrrrrrr!" she emphatically exclaimed. Over and over and over she said this. "I cant believe I get to keep you!!!"
Then came the phone calls and the desperate attempts to post her news to Facebook. "Hello? I have a dauuugghhhttterrrrrrrrr! She's perfecttttttt!" Cue: vivid and detailed explanations of her new baby's appearance. "Black curly hair! Beautiful fingernails!"
I lay there, listening to this. I'm not an unreasonable person. I know that: 1. She didnt know I was there. 2. She didnt know my situation. 3. Even if she did, who cares? She was entitled to gush over and celebrate her baby.

But it was still cutting to listen to it.

When she said: I have a dauuugghhhttterrrrrrrrr! I thought: "Me too."
When she said: She's perfecttttttt! I thought "so is mine."
When she said: I cant believe I get to keep you!!! I thought: "You lucky, lucky woman."

Worth A Read

2010-12-17T18:12:00.000+11:00

This article is a few weeks old, I think, but I thought it was worth posting, for a couple of reasons:
1. If you are a babylost parent, it is likely that everything this woman says will hit home with you too. I know it did with me.
2. If you are the supporter/friend/family member of a babylost parent, the article gives some good insights into the state of mind of a grieving parent. It might help you understand why they do or say the things they do, especially in that raw initial period.

Worth a read.

Giving Birth To A Stillborn Son

Ashamed

2010-12-14T14:13:00.000+11:00

I dont think I have been very nice lately. I have always lived by the motto "it's nice to be nice." And it is. but it is also important to be true to yourself and your values. However, I think I have broken my own rule and been "overly assertive" (I am loathe to use the word aggressive, whether it is fitting here or not) in what I believe in.
I put this down to a number of things:

A lifetime of diplomacy, hiding my beliefs as not to be confrontational to others who may not hold them.
A recent upsurgance of challengers, who in the past, I would have ignored, but I just cant seem to curb myself when I feel challenged these days. It is a real impossibility, despite how hard I try.
A new wave of anger that my daughter was taken from me. Especially that it is Christmas. It is a generalised, free floating anger. And wrongly, I channel it by being overly outspoken and vocal about what I think.

These are not excuses. They are explanations. I guess I still crave understanding, even though I know I may have crossed some boundaries.
Please know that even though I have certain strong values and beliefs, I would never judge anyone else for their choices. Even if it has seemed lately that I have. My choices are separate entities from yours. I have made mine, and I have recently felt the need to vocalise them. But the purpose of my vocalisation was to be heard myself, not to push them onto anyone else. I hope that is understood.

As Christmas gets closer, I am sadder and sadder and miss my Bella more and more. And as Christmas gets closer, I edge closer to the 34 week mark of my pregnancy, and with each day, I panic a little bit more. Mourning, coupled with anxiety and adding the physical burden of a 29 week old pregnancy in an Australian summer is making me...not so nice. It is making me not think properly. It is making me...self absorbed? Or perhaps the word is insular. It is like I am in my own little bubble of grief and anxiety and heat. Occassionally, I step out of the bubble, and realise I have been argumentative, agitated, and in focusing on my own feelings, have failed to see how my behaviour or words may have impacted on others.
And so I am sorry. I may have even emailed you personally to apologise. So please consider this one extra.
I have spent many hours ashamed. And embarrassed.
This is a terribly honest post.
I am hoping and hoping that these feelings and impulses are short lived. I am praying for a sense of peace to wash over me soon, in regards to my sleeping baby, and also the one growing inside me now. I am praying for acceptance and serenity. Perhaps my anger and frustration are part of the process.
I want peace and love and friendship to be in my life. Not anger and fear and volatility.
So, I apologise. And I thank you for your patience.
I still have a long road ahead of me. But I will try and emulate Sybella's purity to help me through this time, and do away with the anger.
Deep, cleansing breaths. One at a time.

'Tis The Season (To Be...Heartbroken)

2010-12-05T16:43:00.003+11:00

Well, Christmas crept up, didnt it now? Has Sybella really been dead for 7 months? It seems like ages ago, but it also seems like yesterday. In all honesty, the last 7 months have been a whirlwind of pain, heartache, sorrow but also happiness (mostly due to learning about Rainbow Baby), new beginnings, gratitude, learning curves and newfound strength. I attribute all these positives to her. Sybella. She was the one who made them all come about.

Veteran babylost mothers say that 7 months is still so fresh. I am so weary from sorrow that I feel that I have always been this person...the person with a dead child. You know how people say "I cant remember life before children?" Well, I cant remember life without the constant, heavy burden of grief. Others tell me that it took them a good 6 months to feel normal again. To feel human. That they watched the world and felt like they werent part of it. I havent really had that luxury. I fell pregnant immediately, had a preschooler to be there for and a husband who works an hour from where we live, and so I barely see him during the week due to him being away from 6am until 8pm. My life was thrown back into "normality" very shortly after Sybella's death, and so my only outlet, my only forum to process my feelings and be completely indulgent is this blog. I guess that is why it is so "variable." Sometimes it's controversial, sometimes it is narky or angry, sometimes it is bewildered, sometimes it is heartbreaking and filled with pain, sometimes it is lighthearted. Sometimes it just makes no sense. Kind of like my daughter's death.
As Christmas looms, I am struck by a whole new wave of grief that washes over me.The "what if" kind.
Such as the memories from last Christmas, when I was 14 weeks pregnant with Sybella, and we all chattered excitedly about the new baby that would be here by Christmas 2010. I imagined Jack helping a 6 month old open presents and show his new sibling how to "work" the toys she would be receiving. I imagined taking a preschooler and a new baby to visit Santa. As it stands, I took Jack on Friday. And brought home a photo with only him in it. No new baby. It has been only him in the Santa photo since 2006. I prayed after our visit to Santa on Friday that next year's photo would have two of my three children in it.
Writing out my Christmas cards this morning, I remembered that a year ago, I thought I would be writing "from Kelvin, Stephanie, Jack and Sybella." Now it says "from Kelvin, Stephanie and Jack"...and Sybella's name is stamped in the right hand bottom corner, next to a picture of an angel.
Trimming the Christmas tree. Of course, a 6 month old wouldnt have been able to help, but it has always been a family event for us. Except this year, one family member was missing.

My beautiful friend Belinda sent this most gorgeous decoration for our tree. The fact that she thought of us at this time, made the effort to get this star and have it engraved with Sybella's name and birthday just floored me. Not because I am surprised. Belinda is just like that. She is thoughtful, understanding, kind and compassionate. She even sent something for Jack, so he had something to unwrap too. She is just the kind of friend that one thanks God for when you suffer tragedies like this. I wish there were more like my beautiful Belinda.

I also purchased a decoration in honour of Sybella...except it has not quite the same elegance or simplicity as Belinda's star. When I ordered it, I didnt realise how big it was, and as a result, we are unable to hang it on the tree. It does fit beautifully on her shrine, though, and we have decided to keep it there all year round.

On Friday night, Deb De Wilde, Babylost Social Worker Extraordinaire, hosted a Christmas Service of Hope, Consolation and Remembrance for all children who have died. Part of the service, the most heartwrenching part, involved a slideshow of all the little children and babies who have passed away. As a gospel choir sang, in a dark church edged in candlelight, the children's images were illuminated on a large screen. Tiny foetuses, stillborn babies, babies that were born alive and were so sick that they died shortly after birth, babies lost to SIDS, toddlers and older children lost to cancer and other unthinkable tragedies. As I sat and sobbed for all these children, tears ran down my face, unstoppable. And they hadnt even got to Sybella's image yet. Sybella, who was one of them. It was so beautiful to see these babies, and they were all so gorgeous. But the fact that they werent alive haunted me and I couldnt get a hold of myself.

Reading the page with all the baby's names on it, I was astounded at how many of these children I "knew." Hope, Kayla, Jade, Morgan, Layla.

7 months ago, I was not in this horrible Club. It was another world. Now, I am ensconsed in a community of parents and families who know what I know and feel how I feel. Who cry with me and nod along with me. Who have my compassion and who give me theirs. It is a tragically beautiful community. I am proud to be a part of it...but desperately wish I wasnt. If that makes sense.

In our Christmas cards this year, I have included an insert with the following message. If you are someone who I know through babyloss, through my blog or yours, or you are simply someone whose address I do not have, I wish to extend this message to you too:

In the Christmas season of 2010, we look back over our year and remember our daughter, Sybella, a most beautiful and innocent baby, born asleep on the24th of April.

Christmas is a time for joy, although our usual Christmas joy is tainted with sadness and what would have been. Christmas is also a time for gratitude, and this we can embrace. We are thankful to Sybella for choosing us, and as she did, she touched our hearts, our souls and our lives.

We are also thankful to you, for your support, understanding and love over these past few months. Without your kindness, our family heartbreak would have been even more unbearable.

We hope you feel Sybella’s purity of spirit touch your heart this Christmas.

Remembering Sybella Eve
24.4.10

Our family wishes you and yours
all the love and peace

of the season this Christmas.

Cherry On Top

2010-12-02T14:45:00.001+11:00

My First Blog Award!
Thank you to Haidee from Maybe Baby Or Maybe The Loony Bin for thinking my blog was inspiring and beautiful enough to receive an award!
I've wanted one of these from Day 1!

The rules of this award are:

Link back to the person who gave it to you
Pass it on to five (or more) other blogs
Leave them a comment telling them about the award

Okay, so I didnt have to think too hard about this, as I have a little bubble of places that I like to go for comfort, so my Cherry On Top award goes to:

Sally at Tuesday's Hope
Angela at Little Bird
Maddie at After Matilda
Merrill at It's Days Like These
Cat at Life In Cat's Pyjamas

Steph Gets Cranky About Vaccines

2010-12-01T13:19:00.003+11:00

There are in fact two things, science and opinion; the former begets knowledge, the latter ignorance.

- Hippocrates

Yesterday I was asked:
"Don’t take this the wrong way, but did you receive a flu shot (while pregnant with Sybella)?"

The nature of this comment is wrong on so many levels. And it sparked an intense reaction in me that bubbled away all night. So I thought I'd write about it.

The answer is no. I didn’t. But only because I spent the majority of my pregnancy in the warmer months (September to April) and the flu vaccine isnt routinely administered at that time of the year in Australia.

But thank you, J, for your disclaimer ("don’t take this the wrong way") and very clear insinuation that IF I had gotten a flu shot, it may have caused Sybella to die. That made me feel great! Just load some guilt on top of my grief!

The issues surrounding vaccination are contentious ones. It is a passionate, opinionated debate. (Although I will come back to the issue of opinion later). There are usually three major parties when it comes to the subject of immunisation. Passionate pro-vaxxers, passionate anti-vaxxers, and people who vaccinate according to the government schedule without much thought about it.

Those who sit in the third category, I don’t take issue with you... I think it is commendable that you pertain to the schedule and trust your medical caregiver. Thank you for protecting your children, and mine. But it is many (not all) of the anti-vaxxers that will try and coerce this group (mostly through uncivilised means) and make sweeping statements that ALL pro-vaxxers are blind followers of government schedules, medical advice and behave like sheep...or lemmings. Sometimes I feel that anti-vaxxers think we ALL sit in the third category. Not that I think those in the third category are blind followers, I dont. But it just seems to be what the anti-vaxxers cling to when trying to put their point across...the fact that vaccinators "havent done the research." They beseech us to look into it, assuming that we havent already. I will put most of my money on the fact that those who vaccinate without question do so because of the correct information that is already out there circulating and being advertised by reputable health professionals. Which DOES make you informed. Lets hope this positive information continues to circulate.

Amy McKay Cooper responded to an anti-vaxxer who questioned her, my and other pro-vaxxer's knowledge of vaccines and their effects with the following comment:

"It is the worst opinion out there that people who are pro-vaccination are "uneducated", "unopen to the truth", "lacking in common sense", or a myriad of other more than vaguely insulting talking points. We have read the studies, pondered their implications, listened to authorities, weighed them against our own understanding, thought critically and arrived at our own thoughtful conclusions based on the best evidence. We are not ignorant, closed, mindless followers, or uncritical. You don't have anything over on us... We just think you are wrong. And we think so because the preponderance of peer-reviewed, methodologically strong, replicable, evidence-based medicine from a variety of sources all over the globe point us in that direction."

I take huge issue with the assumption from anti-vaxxers that my beliefs are unsubstantiated, uneducated and lack intelligence.
I sit firmly and proudly in the first category and have been strong believer in vaccines since 1992. Yep, I was 12. Since then, I have researched, studied, questioned vaccines and the immunisation schedule, becoming more and more interested in the topic as time went on.

In the months after Sybella died, I found myself becoming a fully fledged advocate, amping up my research, participating in groups and forums, speaking with paediatricians and general practitioners. I was motivated from an emotional standpoint by the story of Carter Dube, a 6 week old baby, who died from the respiratory complications of Pertussis, prior to being of an age where he could receive his first batch of vaccines. Luckily, I had the facts and scientific knowledge to back up my emotive argument also.

I will warn you now though, if you do not believe in vaccines, this post is not an invitation to debate the pros and cons, so don’t worry about posting your opinions. Not that I don’t want to hear them, am not open to them, or am scared that you will prove me "wrong." On the contrary. I have enough knowledge and education and facts up my sleeve to be able to debate any anti-vaxxer. But I am burnt out from my conversation yesterday with the person who questioned whether I had a flu shot while pregnant, I am cross, and so I am venting. That is the purpose of this post.

The fact of the matter is, vaccines are a community health issue. In my world, there is no room for diplomatic conversations about choice and opinion when it comes to immunisation. It isnt like birth choices, or breast feeding vs. formula, where parents should mind their own business and leave each other to do what is best for them, their child and their personal situation. Sounds harsh. I know. And I am SURE to get a few heckles up, I am aware of that.
My personal disclaimer is that I have NO DOUBT that ALL parents that have certain opinions about vaccines are acting in the best interest of their child. They love their child/ren, want them to stay safe and healthy, and I respect that. But when your choice not to vaccinate impacts on me, my child, or my unborn baby, then I get cross. Especially when you assume I haven’t done the research and label me ignorant. Especially when you imply that my choice TO be vaccinated played a role in my daughter's stillbirth.

Herd immunity is a very serious issue. Right now, in NSW, herd immunity sits at approximately 83% (total of immunised people at any one time). Rates need to be above 95% for a vaccine to be effective. This is because vaccines themselves are approximately 70-90% effective. If our herd immunity is 95%, then the fact that vaccines don’t offer 100% protection is negligible. The remaining 5% of unvaccinated individuals should only be those who are immune-compromised, newborn, elderly, or cannot be vaccinated for reasons pertaining to anaphylaxis. Therefore, herd immunity protects these people.
Then there is the issue of “free-riding.” The article “Parental Decision-Making in Childhood Vaccination” by Lucy Serpell and John Green states: “If parents feel that others vaccinating reduces the risk of their child being infected, then they may feel that they need not vaccinate their own child as long as local vaccine coverage is good.”
However, local vaccine coverage is getting lower and lower, because of bogus, unsubstantiated claims by anti-vaccine websites. Anti vaccination sites scare me. They terrify me. I read the claims that come from such obscure, tiny studies that make broad, sweeping statements and factually inaccurate declarations and shudder at the ease at which these assertions are swallowed. The worst one so far was that the recent outbreak of Pertussis in California was caused by seasonal pesticides. Bordetella Pertussis is a bacterial infection. Not environmental. That is not an opinion. It is a scientific fact. No dispute.

Then there is the age old MMR and Autism debate. This needs to die. Seriously.

There has been reputable studies disproving the claim that the MMR vaccine (Measles, Mumps, Rubella) causes Autism. It has been undeniably quashed, both by medical and scientific studies, that state there is no causal relationship between the MMR vaccine and Autism. And let’s not forget Andrew Wakefield, who was stripped of his medical license due to his paper, discredited, for its claims that the MMR vaccine caused Autism.
“But why are there so many Autistic kids now?” the anti-vaxxers cry. The answer: There ARENT. There are the same number as ever before. It is simply that in today's education and social system, Autism is much more salient than ever. Being a teacher, I can tell you that today’s education focuses on hands-on, exploratory, discovery learning. Children work in groups, in a variety of settings, with a variety of strategies. They are encouraged to make student –based decision, utilise autonomy and take responsibility for their learning. Autistic kids DO NOT thrive in this setting. Autistic children thrive on routine, repetition, methodical learning, and teacher-led choices. And so they stand out. However, they did not stand out twenty, thirty or forty years ago, when education consisted of sitting rows, rote learning, copying arithmetic off the chalkboard, reading the same book over and over. Autism is not more prevalent, but it IS more understood and awareness is more developed and advanced. Parents of Autistic children I have taught say the same thing: “My child had something different about him/her from birth.” And that child’s siblings, who grew up with the same parents, breastfed for the same amount of time, in the same environment, with the same vaccine schedule, do not have Autism. This puts the whole causal link debate to rest.

Mercury. Thimerosol. To those who question HOW I can inject my baby with such horrid toxins, I ask you:

Do you eat fish?

If the answer is yes, then you ingest Methyl mercury. Methyl mercury is a neurotoxin, found in fish that are high in the marine food chain. Methyl mercury accumulates in the body and takes a long time to break down and be emitted via waste. Ethyl mercury, however, leaves the body almost immediately. It is NOT a neurotoxin.Which is lucky, because it is Ethyl mercury, not Methyl mercury that is used in SOME flu vaccines…although this argument is negligible too, because Ethyl mercury hasn’t been used in a childhood vaccine in Australia since 2000, anyway.

Okay, so vaccines aren’t perfect. There will be side effects, and protection rates for individual vaccines are not 100%
Dr Paul Offit, an infectious disease and vaccine expert, author, and Director of the Vaccine Education Center at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia wrote:

"I would make the case that a choice not to get vaccines is not a risk free choice. Rather, it’s a choice to take a different and far more serious risk."

I know I take a risk with immunisation: But it’s a lower risk than contemplating any of these options:

My son being permanently sterilized from Mumps.
My son suffering Encephalitis from a case of the Measles.
My son contracting Septicemia from a Varicella blister.
My unborn baby suffering blindness, deafness and brain damage in the case of myself being exposed to Rubella during pregnancy.
My newborn attached to tubes and monitors, struggling to breathe because he/she contracted Whooping Cough from an unvaccinated individual who hadn’t had their TDaP booster.

Why am I banging on about vaccines on a stillbirth site, you ask?
One part of Sybella's legacy is my voice. My calm, but firm voice. About matters pertaining to my heart. My courage of conviction. I'm just lucky that when it comes to vaccination, not only can I put forward views form my heart, but also those from science and medicine.

Sybella. What a winner. She's changed me. I'm not afraid anymore.

A Red Thread...

2010-11-28T15:31:00.002+11:00

Last week, I braved the shops...and Christmas Madness has begun already...
You know...people pushing in front of you at Medicare...people sideswiping your shoulder and you stumble back with the reverberation of their impact...people who, with hungry, mad eyes, grab the last Buzz Lightyear figurine and elbow you in your pregnant bump to do so. People who shove in front of you on the escalator.
Ha, actually, that usually happens, but I must tell you of the escalator situation that I found myself in last week. Myself and another woman reached the escalator at the same time. I ushered her to go first (because otherwise she'd be stuck behind a waddling thingimijig forever) and she ushered me to go first and we stood there for a bit, doing the Dance of Escalator Etiquette. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: You go first
Her: No, you go, you're the one with the baby
Me: Thankyou! (I get on the escalator)
Her: Is it your first?
Me: No, third
Her: Ohhhhh, those last few weeks are the worst, arent they? Especially in the heat

Me: Um...I'm only 26 weeks

Her:

26 Weeks? Day-amm, girl!

Her: (Stumbling to cover up): So, what do you have now?

Me: I have a little boy. And I have a little girl who was stillborn, just in April

Her: (Full of sympathy): Ohhhhhh. I am so sorry. I had a stillbirth too. At 27 weeks

Me: (My turn for the sympathetic face): I am so sorry

Her: Oh, I cant imagine what a term stillbirth was like. 27 weeks was bad enough

Me: Sybella wasnt quite term, she was 34 weeks

Her: (Shakes her head). Just terrible. What was her name? Isabella?
Me: Sybella
Her: That's beautiful!
Me: Thankyou
Her: Is this baby a boy or a girl?
Me: I dont know. I planned on finding out, and decided against it at the last minute
Her: And you know what? This baby will bring you so much peace and happiness, no matter what the sex is
Me: Exactly!
Her: Best of luck and have a wonderful day
Me: Thankyou so much...you too.

Okay, so a fairly unremarkable conversation. That happens, perfect strangers start talking at the shops. Common thread, and all that.
What struck me, though, was out of all the people there for The Christmas Madness Extravaganza (Proudly Brought To You By December! Early November Session On Now!) I happened to strike up a conversation with someone else who had experienced a stillbirth. Although she down-played hers, due to her gestational stage, I understood how much grief differs between people. But I didnt think she needed to down- play it, for my benefit, anyway, because I am 27 weeks, and if I lost my baby now I would howl for the rest of my days.
Perhaps though, she was at peace with it. She was very pragmatic. But of course, I only met her for 5 minutes, and maybe to her I seemed pragmatic too. I dont tend to get overly emotional in public, even with people I am close to, and she was probably the same. I was just so saddened to meet someone else in The Club.
There is a Chinese proverb that reads:

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance.The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.

That is how I feel about most babylost mamas I meet. Maybe she is someone who I may not have associated with normally. Maybe she is someone I wouldnt normally like. Maybe we are part of different religions, cultures, or have different values or beliefs. Maybe she is 20 years older than me, or 10 years younger.

But when you lose a baby, none of that seems to matter, does it?

Rainbow Baby

2010-11-28T13:38:00.001+11:00

Just a shamless plug. Sorry.
Rainbow Baby gets hardly any traffic!
Just in case you didnt know that I document my current pregnancy, I do so over at Rainbow Baby. I understand that many babylost mamas who are not yet experiencing a subsequent pregnancy probably want to avoid that blog, and I get that. For sure.
But I just wanted to out the word out for any Pregnancy After Loss mamas who read Born Still, or let people know that Rainbow Baby is there, if they may not have known.
Hope everyone is having a great weekend. We put up our Christmas tree! And Jack and I made our own wrapping paper out of newsprint and Christmas shape sponges dipped in Christmas coloured paint. We made a GIANT mess!

Achievement! And One Forgotten Prop...

2010-11-26T20:29:00.002+11:00

Back in September, I turned 30 (yowser!) and I held a Bears of Hope drive to raise money to purchase bears for families affected by infant loss.
I am SURE that if you are a babylost mama, you have heard of Bears of Hope. In addition to their distribution of bears to bereaved families, they offer support and counselling. Their mission statement reads:
"Bears Of Hope offers support and guidance for parents who experience the loss of their baby during pregnancy, birth or infancy. Through the donation of a bear of hope, parents are provided with the comfort of knowing they are not alone from the very beginning, and offered significant ongoing support to heal their broken hearts. This includes loss through miscarriage, genetic interruption, multiple loss, stillbirth, neo-natal & infant death."
Instead of pressies, I asked people to donate money via my fundraising page to Bears of Hope. The money, then, was used to buy bears that all have a card attached to them with Sybella's name and birthday on it. When a new family who have lost their precious baby leave hospital, they will receive a bear, with Sybella's name, so that they dont go home empty handed.
I have two Bears of Hope that sit in Sybella's cot right now. The little babies that these bears were donated in honour of are Sophie and Brock.
Having these bears helped me enormously because, for one thing, they helped me feel like I wasnt the only one who had gone through this. (Sounds horribly selfish, I know. But in the early days, I felt so isolated, like I was the only one who had been through a stillbirth. Of course, I wasnt...it is NUTS how many mothers I have met in grief. It is TOO TOO heartbreakingly common. I wish it wasnt.)
Anyway, I loved the thought that these baby's legacies continued to be perpetuated through the bears, and wanted to do something like for Sybella.

With the help of friends and family, I raised $1085 for Bears of Hope. That translates to approximately 43 bears with Sybella's name on them! Toni Tattis from Bears of Hope sent me these photos of the bears that were purchased.

Thank you so very much for your donations and support. I appreciate it more than you know.

As I mentioned, there are many Bears of Hope support groups. I was invited to the relatively new group that had been formed by my beautiful friend Emma. Now, how I forgot to give her props in my last post, I do not know. I am mortified, though. Emma, good grief, I am so sorry. Yikes.

Before either of us got handed our membership to this club, I found out I used to work with Emma's mother! Small world. Emma contacted me shortly after Sybella died, and I learned of her Ethan, who died in 2008 at 33 weeks. Only 2 years is still relatively fresh, I feel, when one has lost a child, but Emma has taken me under her wing, looked after me, listened to my tears, my anger, incredibly selflessly. She rings me just to see how I am, just to check in. She knows how I feel and is incredibly compassionate and understanding. Much more than I am. I hope in years to come that I will find the inner peace that emanates from Emma. I'm not there yet. I am comfortable with myself, but still deeply broken over my child's death. Emma is too, of course, but has seemed to find some serenity and purpose amongst her grief. One day, that will be me, I hope.

So, giving props to Emma tonight. Hopefully she reads this!

Giving Props

2010-11-25T15:25:00.003+11:00

Giving Props:

Slang term for
"accolades," "proper respect," or "just dues."

E.g: My four-year-old son is the king of
Snakes and Ladders,

but punk neighbor kids won't give him his props.

I had a rough few weeks and wasnt my normal, lovely, composed self ;o)
I put it down to sick husband and child, no sleep, resurgence of intense grief, pregnancy anxiety (read: irrationality), hormones. What else? Hunger. Yes.

I have to give props to some people who have been completely unwavering in their kindness, understanding and support.

Big Ups to:

Maddie: A beautiful soul with a heart of gold, who checks in, offers a shoulder to cry on and seems to understand EVERYTHING I am going through.
Meredith: For remembering Sybella on the 24th, despite dealing with the 11 month anniversary of her own daughter's death.
Sally: For her maternal way of "watching over" me. Her words are like a bowl of warm soup and a cosy pair of slippers on a chilly night. She comforts me.
Kimberly: For her feisty protection of me and and reassurance that my grief is still valid, even after 7 months.
Merrill: For giving me a free pass, for letting me not be myself, for just understanding my crazy, crazy head.
Mithra: For her sense of humour, her capacity to make me laugh, even on my dark days. For her consistent support of my writing and her fabulous build ups.
Stephanie: For allowing me to vent, unload without repercussion, without judgement. For knowing what I am going through.
Belinda: For her constant check ins, her unwavering interest in my life and for not caring when I forget to ask her about her.
Kylie: For her tongue in cheek beratement of me for not calling her for help. She's like a mum.
Hayley: For listening to me bang on about the same things every week and never acting bored. For alleviating my anxiety regarding rashes and other terrible things.
Damn, I am lucky to have people like you in my life.

Thank you.

Anyone Got Cotton Wool? Can You Wrap Me In It?

2010-11-22T16:28:00.000+11:00

I am spent. I am emotionally overwhelmed. I know many of my posts have been rather intense lately and I am very very aware that I probably sound indulgent/dramatic/attention hogging.

I assure you that I don’t want any attention. Seriously. I want to go to ground, hibernate from the world and wake up when this nightmare of being a babylost mama is over. Except that it is never over. I want my "normal" life back...my life where my most intense emotion is shittiness at Kelvin for not emptying out his pockets before the laundry load. The intensity of the emotions I feel these days are so overwhelming at times that I sometimes wish I was an inanimate object so I can’t feel anything. Then again, I feel so incredibly lucky that I got chosen to experience these emotions, as they can be so rich. Sybella has enriched my life in so many ways. I have changed as a person. Some changes are good...and some are bad.

Lots of people don’t understand these changes. Or they wonder why I am "behaving" this way, when it was a "whole 7 months ago that the baby died. Geez." Or even worse, not the baby..."the foetus."

The thing is, I am weary. Tired. Battle bruised. Grief doesn’t get easier as time goes on for me. It gets heavier. Foggier. Plus I am walking around with the physical burden of another 26 weeks worth of pregnancy right now and all the fear, trepidation and anxiety that goes with that. I think I just want to be understood. But I get that it is hard for an "outsider." I can’t expect it all the time. However, when confronted and challenged, which I have had an alarming number of these types of interactions this week, I feel like screaming "just be nice to me! I am in pain! My baby is dead. Just be nice to me! Please!" I want the special treatment. Not the attention. Just the understanding. I realise though, that in this world, where everyone (myself included) is so wrapped up in their own bubble of problems that it is hard to give anyone else a break. Angela writes at Little Bird about her daughter Charlotte who died just after Sybella. This particular paragraph leapt out at me and Angela has given me permission to reprint it:

Grief is selfish. I am selfish. I want everyone to bend themselves around my life and my grief. I want the apology without asking for it. I want to vent anger without repercussions. I want to speak her name without carving a swath of awkwardness around me. I want to feel less isolated. I want to remain motionless so that she can always find me if she wants to stop by and say hello. I want her to know I am always here, and I will always love her, even if I am the only one who remembers her short life.

The bold, large text was done by me. That is how I feel. I have so much to say at the moment and have a massive problem with things that are unfair or that demonstrate injustice. Lately I have been speaking out, when normally I'd do the polite, correct thing and nod my head "mmm, I see your point. Thanks for that insight." Then I'd go home and try to reconcile a point of view that wasn’t necessarily mine. Because that’s what reasonable people do.
I’m not reasonable anymore. Now I buck up without thinking, and say whatever my thoughts are. Sometimes the consequences of this are disastrous. Sometimes they are liberating. Sometimes it sends me into a panic. I was a mess last night in particular, after being told to “mind my own bloody business” by a person who I don’t even know, in response to me teasing my best friend on Facebook...teasing in a light-hearted, tongue in cheek way that best friends do. My friend knew I was joking. However, this random stranger didn’t. At being berated by her, I fell apart. “Don’t you know I have a dead baby?!” I wanted to shout. “Leave me alone!”

I am not walking around picking fights, I assure you. The problem lies in my new reactions. In the past I kept my head down, acted intelligently, tried to see other perspectives, keep a cool head. I’m so tired of doing that. I am capable of having an intelligent conversation about something that I don’t necessarily agree with, sure. I’m not saying I jump down the throats of people who don’t vote what I vote, who don’t immunise, don’t breastfeed, or whatever else. What I do now, is defend myself when I feel challenged or confronted. I would never stifle anyone’s opinion, belief or value or tell them they are wrong if they don’t prescribe to what I believe. That’s just arrogant. But if I feel unfairly maligned, I will let it be known. It’s just that I’m not always good at it. There is a trite quote from Marilyn Monroe going around at the moment. It seems to be on everyone’s Facebook page. It says:

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Okay. I used to read this as “I give myself permission to behave however I want and I don’t apologise for it. But I’m so awesome that all that crap is worth it when I do decide to behave myself.”

But not anymore.

Now I get it.

If you can bear with me while I work through the death of my baby...if you can give me a free pass at this time in my life...if you can understand that I'm not myself, and may say or do things that you dont like...
...the day will come when I can give it back to you. Ten-fold.

Remains Of An Angel

2010-11-20T17:12:00.001+11:00

May be upsetting for some. Contains details of Sybella's remains.

Well, I wasnt expecting that.

Today was the day that Kelvin and I transferred Sybella's ashes into her new urn. It was a painstaking and overwhelming and heartbreaking experience.

The urn arrived and was tiny. You cant tell from the picture, but it fits in the palm of my hand. Yes, just one hand. When the urn arrived in the mail, I was surprised at how small it was. I wondered if it would fit all of her. I wondered if the person who had wrapped it in bubble wrap and posted it to me felt sad that they were packaging an urn for a baby. I wondered if they wondered about the baby that the urn was going to hold. I thought about the person that engraved her name on it. Did they think it was such a beautiful name, and did they engrave it lovingly and with reverence? Did the staff at Urns Online have any experience in child loss, or was it just a job to them?

So began the process.

We decided to do it outside, for some reason. When I opened the plastic box that had housed her ashes for the last 7 months, I wasnt expecting a ziplock bag inside, half ashes, half crushed bone. I really did not expect to see bone. I even tried to fool myself, and showed Kelvin: "look. It's bits of the coffin." I wanted him to agree, so I could "believe" that it was wood, not bone. But Kelvin shook his head. "That's bone."

I was silent. He tried to show me the silver lining. "Steph, at least we know its her, and not just bits of timber."

I guess so. I just hate the thought of her precious little bones in a box.

If it were just ashes, and not the bone, Sybella would have fit into her urn with no problems. But the bones made it difficult. We funnelled the remains from the ziplock bag into the urn slowly. The bone made the funnel stop up, and we had to shake it to get the remains to slide into the urn. This was difficult. As we did this, pieces were spilling on the table, the floor, and my hands were covered in dust and ash. I became quieter and quieter as the reality set in of what I was doing. I had my daughters ashes on my hands, under my fingernails. I was picking up single pieces of her bone and placing them into a pewter box. In the background, Jack incessantly asked "can I help? Can I help?"
Not one of my finest moments, but I snapped at him, feeling completely overwhelmed with sensory and emotional overload. Fortunately, my snapping at Jack doesnt worry him at all and he just rolled his eyes and went to jump on the trampoline.
The efforts continued and it became clear that we werent going to fit all her remains in the urn. We have about one quarter of them left, still in the original box, and will order another urn to put them in. Kel thought we should scatter them in the garden, but I hate that idea. Because the neighbours cats crap there.
The excercise took more out of me than I expected. I ended up sitting in the shower afterwards, to escape the noise and heat of the house and think about what had just happened. Now Sybella is "split up." Part of her is in the pewter urn, part in a ziplock bag. Other parts have blown away into the atmosphere, some has fallen onto the back pavers. Some of her is on my clothes, and will be washed away with the next laundry load. I am glad that she is now in a beautiful, engraved urn, that is elegant and simple. But I am sad that some of her "got away." I guess that was to be expected.

It's just her body. It's just her body. It's just her body.

It's not her soul.

This World Can Make You Happy

2010-11-19T18:53:00.001+11:00

Amaya Lauciria

My favourite right now.

Out Of The Mouths of Babes

2010-11-18T19:38:00.003+11:00

Trish from My Little Drummer Boys posted this a little while ago, and I was enchanted!
Sorry, Trish, but I just had to steal it...I hope you dont mind.
Her answers made me laugh, and so I tried it with Jack.

The following is a question and answer series between Jack (4) and I. We were both eating icecream at the time.

What do you want to be when you grow up ?
A big giant monster

How old is grown up?
Me

How do you know when you are in love?
I love Papa

How big is an elephant?
Its tall and it stomps up high

What's your favourite colour?
Green

Name something that is bigger than Australia?
A bridge

Where does dust come from?
Outside

Who's the most famous person you know?
A policeman

Why do people go bald?
They cut the hairs all off...cut cut cut cut cut

How do we get rain?
From outside

What do you do to make yourself feel better when you're scared ?
Stop crying

What comes next in this sentence ?

You can't teach an old dog to ...paint
If at first you don't succeed... you finish your game
Boys are ...happy
Girls are ...happy
Boys like ... girls
Girls like...mud

Why do mummies yell?
You have to stop shouting in the bedroom or I tell Daddy

If you were an animal what would you be?
Dinosaur

What is your favourite place?
I want to go to the dinosaur beach

What won't you leave home without ?
Nothing

Too funny. A bit of lightheartedness in the wake of a shocking week. I'll be posting about that on Rainbow Baby soon.

Wings of Butterflies

2010-11-16T15:07:00.001+11:00

I got into a panic the other day while looking at Sybella's shrine. It was starting to look hectic and jumbled. If you know me in person, you know I hate hectic and jumbled. I like chaos-free, Spa Music channel on Foxtel playing (which Jack has become accustomed to, actually!), clean lines, peaceful energy and fresh air.

In my panic, I started to "Redesign the Shrine."

I went on to Redbubble where my favourite photographer and fellow babylost mama, Carly Dudley (she does the names in the sand) advertises her photography work, to find some images to give Sybella's shrine a peaceful and tranquil energy. However, I couldnt find any in the correct size to match my frames. (Seriously, check it out for beautiful photography from Carly...the link takes you straight to her page).

I emailed her, asking if I could purchase jpegs of the specific images so that I could resize them to fit my frames. I happened to catch her just before she was off to Mullaloo Point beach to write some more names, and she cheerfully told me that she would be happy to email me some jpegs when she returned.

When she got back, she emailed me (at 3am, I'll have you know!) to tell me she had something special for me from the beach tonight. The picture above.

Carly thought of my Sybella, on her own, and drew this intricate, beautiful butterfly for her. Then she sent me the picture. Seriously...I cannot remember the last time someone who I didnt even know, did something so kind for me. I was so touched that Sybella was being honoured on a beach...on the other side of Australia, by a gorgeous woman, who carries her own grief for her own lost son. Carly took the time and effort to do something for a stranger...just to be kind.

It simply amazes me.

Here I am, completely overwhelmed by my life, grieving Sybella, coping with the anxiety of a new pregnancy, tending to a sick child with a 40 degree temperature. Then I receive this picture...and I smiled again.

The thing about Carly...is that she does this kind of thing all the time. She must be an angel in disguise.

Share The Love

2010-11-16T14:08:00.000+11:00

November 13th was World Kindness Day. I only found that out today.
I think kindness is underrated. I mean real kindness. It is also fairly rare.
Have a think about the word "kind." It conjures up images of comfort, of safety, of smiles...not frowns or grimaces.
How often do you experience it? How often do you demonstrate it?
I havent always been great at it. I'm a bit strong willed at times, and have to catch myself and ask "is it more important to be right...or to be kind?"
I teach kindness to Jack. He is a very kind child (and on the mend, now, thank goodness). He demonstrates a lot of care towards others. At Kindy, his friend, a girl, was crying. When I picked him up, I watched him...he had his arm around her, and he patted her while she cried. Later he told me "she wanted her mummy, so I cuddled her." On the weekend, Kelvin slept most of Saturday away, having been camping the night before and on nil sleep. Jack just sat next to him, and patted his face. He didnt leave Kelvin's side...except to get a teddy bear and tuck it under Kelvin's arm. That boy of mine has kindness ingrained in him, and for that, I am proud. It takes a brave person to show kindness these days. Kindness, just for the sake of it, with no motive, or anything required in return.
I was flabbergasted at the amount of kindness our family received after Sybella died. It was amazing. I wasnt always up to receiving it, and much of it just washed over me. Those early days were a dark haze and I dont even remember the first six or seven weeks. But I know I was swathed in kindness from others.
In gratitude, I have tried to give it back, as much as I am able in this relatively fresh period, only 7 months since Sybella's death.
I held a balloon release, not just for Sybella, but for all the babies and their families. And I asked for donations to Bears of Hope instead of birthday presents. I thought that was kind.
Arent I awesome?! Ha! Not giving myself a rap here, readers. Well, maybe a little bit....just trying to point out that I do try my best, which must count for something.
In my next post, I will reveal why the concept of kindness has struck such a chord with me today.

Ready?

The Fear

2010-11-15T14:27:00.000+11:00

I live in a constant state of fear and "what if" right now. My life is measured in moments and I am afraid that as each moment passes, I am getting closer to that "last" moment.

Probably sounds so morbid.

Jack is sick.

He spiked a fever on Saturday night, woke up on Sunday completely fine. Sunday night, his fever spiked again, it felt like he was on fire. His skin burned. I felt so guilty for only having one pair of clean sheets on the bed, that were the flannelette ones. He needed cool, cotton sheets, but instead, my boy had to suffer through icky, sweaty, flannelette sheets with a temperature.
Upon waking this morning, he seemed okay after a dose of children's panadol. He told me he "wasnt sick!!!" and that he could go swimming! We did the grocery shopping, and he told me he was happy. That was nice to hear, especially in the bread aisle. When paying, he chatted to the checkout lady ("excuse me, I am Jack, and this is Steph, she bought me Dora yoghurt.")
Unpacking the groceries at home, he crashed. Lying down on the floor, he started to burn up again, become irritable, listless...completely out of the blue.
Jack crawled onto the couch and promptly fell asleep. I managed another dose of panadol while he was in the twilight zone, but two hours later, it hasnt lessened the fever.
Now, I sit next to him typing and I havent left his side since he fell asleep. He sleeps fitfully, waking up every so often, complaining of an "ow." He has a doctors appointment at 4.30pm and I am itching to ring and make it earlier.
All kids get sick, I know. But I am so scared. I really am. It's horrible. I think if worse case scenarios, not because I'm a weirdo, but because I cant imagine a scenario where I am lucky to have things go the way I want them to. I NEED them to. I have lost one child, and am constantly terrified of losing my other, as well. On top of that, as I sit here, I urgently poke and prod my belly to get Rainbow Baby to move.

All three of my kids put the fear of God into me...I just want them to be okay. I want them to all know how much I love them, need them with me, happy and secure. I want to spare them from pain, fear and other awful things.

I watch my sick little boy. I just watch him.

Zahra Baker

2010-11-13T19:03:00.000+11:00

Zahra Baker has kind of broken my heart.

I followed her story as much as I could, from a selfish standpoint, I had trouble listening to the speculations of what had happened to her, and even more so, that her parents (well, father and stepmother) were the ones in custody for her disappearance and suspected murder. I tended to turn off the TV when stories of Zahra came on, because it was too sad for me.
I hated that about myself.
On the News tonight, it seems to have been confirmed that Zahra is indeed dead. I think that two sets of bones were found and some genetic material that matched DNA from her mattress, and this was enough evidence to make the call that she had died.
She was only ten.

In ten years, Zahra had already beaten cancer, she had lost part of her leg and some of her hearing, I believe as a result of the cancer. She had moved with her father to the USA, so he could marry a woman that he had met a month before on the internet.

It is believed, that after a dodgy ransom note was discovered, that the stepmother was either responsible or involved in Zahra's disappearance. And now her murder.

How does this happen?

I have said before that my emotions run much closer to the surface these days and stories such as Zahra's have the capacity to bring me completely undone. I would have looked after her. I would have loved her. I mean, she could have easily been a student of mine at one stage, you know? Just a normal, ordinary little girl that a horrific, terrible thing happened to.

She was only ten, and had suffered cancer, survived that, sustained disabilities, then senselessly murdered.

I dont even know why I am writing about this. I guess I just have such a new, huge ability to feel such heartache over these kinds of tragedies. For some reason, Zahra's touched me more than most. Perhaps it was her beautiful, smiling face, innocently looking out of the picture, and I couldnt imagine how anyone could hurt such a gorgeous girl. Perhaps it was the macabre thought of wondering about her last moments. Was she scared? Was she in pain? Was she cold?

I have an unrealistic but very strong sense of wanting to "save" her. Be her "saviour." I wish I could have protected her. Of course, I couldnt, she was on the other side of the world. But my heart aches for Zahra, all the same.

Maybe she's with Sybella?

Well, I Bought An Urn For My Daughter Today...

2010-11-12T15:08:00.000+11:00

At the moment, Bella's ashes sit in a little white plastic box on her shrine.
I just then, a few minutes ago, found the courage to shop online for a proper urn. I had planned to go to the place where she was cremated and get one from them, but I couldnt handle someone watching me while I spent time choosing a container for my daughter's remains. It's not the same as choosing a pair of shoes, or a dress for her, is it? This is her Forever Box. She wont outgrow it, like she would a dress.
Anyway, I found a beautiful one on the internet, it is heart shaped, brushed pewter and I had her name and date of birth engraved on it. When it arrives, I will take it to a funeral home and ask them to switch the ashes to the real urn.
The next order of business is whether to have a plaque made for her. You know, a special plaque with something nice inscribed, that sits in the Baby Rose Garden at the local cemetery, that we can visit on special occassions. Kelvin doesnt think it is necessary. I tend to agree, but I wonder is it still something you "do"? If I dont have a plaque made and put in the cemetery, does that mean I dont care enough?
Personally, I dont feel the need to "go" and sit somewhere to connect with Bella. She lives in my heart and my head anyway. And I hate the thought of a plaque sitting in the middle of a cemetery with her name on it...all by itself most of the time. We would visit at birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas et cetera, but what about the times that we arent there? What about night time? Night time is scary in a cemetery. I dont want her memorial plaque sitting all alone in a cemetery at night. That probably sounds strange, because it is just an object, isnt it? But it would be one of the few objects that we have that bears her name and memory, and all of those that we do have, I want to keep close. I dont want anything of hers to be where we arent.
I think I probably just answered my own question about the plaque...but am interested to know what other babylost parents have done in regards to their child's ashes/burial.
I've never done this before.

Bewildered

2010-11-11T15:50:00.002+11:00

For some reason, my grief has returned with a vengeance.
This post will most probably be some non-sensical rambling because I dont actually have a topic in mind, I just feel melancholic. Why even bother being mature and using big words about it?
I feel crap.
I am starting to come to terms with the fact that Sybella died 29 weeks ago, and I am weeks 24 pregnant.
My goodness, I am so in love with this baby. I feel so so lucky that on top of everything else, I didnt have to spend 18 months trying to get pregnant (like I did with Bella) and that it just happened. One small mercy. A big surprise, but a lovely surprise.
However, somehow, I feel like my main grieving time was "interrupted." I couldnt focus on processing my feelings properly, because I had another (happier) focus. I never put Sybella aside, or forgot her in light of my new pregnancy, but I was physically unable to concentrate on grieving...mostly because I had my head down the toilet. And was majorly preoccupied with anxiety and fear.
This pregnancy wasnt even confirmed until I was 7 weeks. Experiencing implantation bleeding led to an ultrasound, where I was told that the embryo was non-viable, my sac was misshapen and to expect to miscarry in a week. I was 7 weeks before my proper obstetrician quashed that scenario and threw me a jar of Blackmores Pregnancy Gold.
Anyway, as a result, it is only now that my grief is resurfacing, when I stop and realise that I am a mother with a dead child. It was always my greatest fear, for a child of mine to die. And it happened. It happened to ME. I think it is Hope's Mama says her grief makes her feel "dirty" and "tainted." My God, I get that. I feel forever stained, that my baby passed away and I will never escape that stamp. Forever and ever, I am someone with a dead child. That concept is completely surreal to me. How can it be? I will never rid myself of the pain, I will never able to rid Kelvin of his pain. I look at that man, mowing the lawn, tying his tie and think "his daughter died." He aches, I know it. I think of our life as a couple, dating, buying our first house, getting married, going on holidays. Back then, this life now seems unbelievable. Two young adults, getting drunk on a Saturday night, a lifetime ago before children, mortgages and the like...who were those two? Those two (shinier, thinner, more attractive) people, who, in a few years time, are going to share the worst possible experience of grief that a couple can share?
It's the same with Jack. When I was 4, the worst thing that happened to me is that I burnt my hand on the iron. Jack is 4 and has already experienced the death of a sibling. He has a sister who isnt alive. That breaks my heart. He is only a baby himself and has experienced grief that he doesnt even understand. It's so damn unfair.

Today I went to Dick Smith's to have the photos of Sybella's birth, her name in the sand and the balloon release printed. Finally. After seven months. I have a scrapbook...a beautiful white leather bound album ready, filled with handprints, footprints, hospital bands, cards, messages, funeral service booklets, even medical bill receipts and hospital discharge papers, for God's sake...everything that was ever connected to Sybella, to be lovingly compiled into a book of her life. All I have of her is a book. I dont want the damn book. I dont want to have to make a damn album of memories. I want HER. In the flesh, alive and pink and babbling away, I want people stopping me in the street, like they did when Jack was a baby, telling me how beautiful she is. I want them to ask me what her name is. I want to say "her name is Sybella." The name we kept a secret because it was SO beautiful that we wanted to unveil it with the utmost grandeur..."here is our beautiful daughter, and her name is Sybella Eve." I got robbed of all that.

All I get now, is the woman at Dick Smith's asking me what is the word written on the sand in the photo of the beach sunset. I tell her the word is "Sybella." She looks at me expectantly, to expand on this. I sigh. "She's my daughter. She died." As if Kirsty in Dick Smith didnt know that. She printed out the name in the sand, and asked me what the word said. If she saw that photo, then she saw the rest of them, the coffin photos, the birth photos of Sybella's beautiful but discoloured face, the 137 photos of the little girl who never has her eyes open. She sleeps in every picture.

How can I have a baby and not even know the colour of her eyes?

Why?

2010-11-08T15:34:00.001+11:00

Why did I choose, after 7 months, to now post the birth photos of Sybella?
Because since she has entered my life, I have felt so proud. And I wanted to share that with everyone.
Proud of this little girl, who never drew a breath, for changing my life.
This little girl, who I am totally and completely in love with.
Her strength shines out from each picture, I think, and I wanted to show you.
I wanted to show her off.
I never got to, you know.
Isnt she beautiful?

This Is Sybella

2010-11-08T15:14:00.000+11:00

Light and Shade

2010-11-06T15:28:00.000+11:00

Wow, thank you everyone.
I have had a brain-imploding week. It's been rough. I have been trying to articulate my point gently but stay true to myself and my daughter at the same time.
To everyone who allowed me the freedom to say what I meant, I cant thank you enough. To everyone who sent messages of support and encouragement, I felt your love and understanding and it truly helped me. To even the people who challenged my ideas, I thank you also. Because not only did I have a massive learning curve and the opportunity to delve into issues of language, quantifiability and existence, but you helped me really cement my convictions and get them across in a strong but gentle way.
Drawing on memories of Sybella's death has really taken it out of me and I have begun to feel a raw grief all over again. I will continue that privately, for the moment.
Might have me a little blogging break for a few days. Blow some bubbles with Jack, or something.

Misunderstood

2010-11-05T19:42:00.002+11:00

I have been misunderstood.
I need a thicker skin.
I take my blog seriously and am honoured that so many women have written to me, saying how much I have helped them.
I try to blog responsibly, respectfully and diplomatically.
At the same time, I try to say how I really feel about things.
At the end of the day, although I appear strong and that I am coping, I am a grieving mother, who cries all night as I remember my daughter's blonde eyelashes. Some days, all I can think about is the creases on the palms of her little hands.
I am soft inside and the smallest things will bring me undone, even now.
I have been misunderstood and that makes me sad.

In light of Lily Allen's stillbirth, there has been debate over the difference between stillbirth and miscarriage.
Airing my thoughts on the difference between the two has prompted some feelings amongst others. I am going to explain my position on the difference between miscarriage and stillbirth one more time, as clearly as I can. Remember: you do not have to take this on board. I am not an expert. I am simply using the medium of writing to process my still very palpable grief.

My friend Haidee is newly pregnant after 3 years of trying to conceive and 3 cycles of IVF. If she miscarries her baby (and you wont, Haidee, I can see him in your arms) I am not going to say to her "my grief was worse." You know why? Because I dont know if my grief is worse. I am not Haidee. Haidee's situation is unique and if she were to miscarry, I would cry for her, for her hopes, her dreams, her efforts and all that goes with it. The journey that Haidee has travelled to get where she would make the event of her having a miscarriage (which she wont) an utter tragedy.

That is the same for everyone. Every woman's experience of loss, whatever the gestational age, is unique. Every woman has connected with, and bonded with her child, even in the embryonic stages.

I would never presume to tell anyone that their grief is wrong or invalid. I would never say "my pain was worse because my baby was older." I am not one to play games of one-up-man-ship. I dont want to "win" at grief. I am not a grief hog. It is not who I am.

That said, I have to put it forward that stillbirth and miscarriage are very different experiences.
In my opinion, (but of course, I have no bearing or influence over this) there should be four stages of pregnancy/infant loss. Miscarriage, Second Trimester Loss, Stillbirth and Neonatal Death.
Language is important to give each stage the recognition and acknowledgement it deserves and is the first step to understanding the gravity of what it means to lose a child.

I will say one more time: Pain is personal and I am not measuring grief.

However, this is what I think of when Sybella's stillbirth is referred to as a miscarriage, or when someone tells me they know how I feel because they had a miscarriage.

I think of Sybella being wheeled away. Not to the nursery. To the morgue.
I think of her limbs swishing in the water of her first and last bath, as if she were alive and just floating.
I think of the early days, weeping milk and tears.
I think of the midwife handing me her birth certificate. That may as well have been a death certificate.
I think of Kelvin and I choosing a coffin. A tiny white coffin.
I think of handing over Sybella's funeral gown to the director in a white bag.
I think of doing up the buttons of her gown the day before her funeral.
I think of explaining to Jack that his sister isnt coming home.
I think of Jack asking the parent of every newborn female baby he sees in the shops if that baby is Sybella.
I think of the hours spent howling like an animal over the gaping hole in my life that will be there forever.

That is my pain, I own it. I dont know if it is worse than anyone else's. But it is mine and it is personal.
I must say though, that if Sybella were miscarried in the early days, my life would be extremely different right now. It is my subjective belief that although one cannot measure pain or grief, that what Kelvin and I went through, and what other parents of stillborn babies have to endure is very different to the experience of a miscarriage. It just is.
I think perhaps that much of the pain accompanying a miscarriage is the lack of acknowledgement of a much loved baby. That could be why women who have miscarriages want the same rituals that stillbirth sufferers "get." So they feel their grief is justified, so they dont feel silly for mourning what others think is just a bunch of cells or tissue.
To the women who have had miscarriages or second trimester losses and have been upset by anything I might have expressed in the past: I am not dismissing your grief. I do think your child is real. I respect your pain, your experience and your baby, however old it was.

Please respect mine.

I hope I have no longer been misunderstood.

I have tried my best to be gentle. Please be gentle with your responses.

All Walks Of Life

2010-11-02T13:53:00.001+11:00

Lily Allen. I love her. I always have. Her music and personality are gutsy and fabulous. She gets pissed and swears at Sir Elton John at award shows...which is probably not ladylike or savoury, but hilarious all the same. Her smile is illuminating and she has no fear. She has brilliant clothes.
You think celebrities are untouchable. Hardly anything bad ever happens to them (I mean, tragically bad...not a string of divorces or a drink driving charge). I googled "celebrity stillbirth" when Sybella died and came up with nothing, except for Katie Sagal (from Married With Children)...a most obscure celebrity anyway.
As you have probably heard, Lily Allen and her partner Sam Cooper lost their baby yesterday (I believe it was a little boy, but am unsure on this). Lily had an early miscarriage in 2008.
Reports have stated that Lily went to hospital with pain after picking up an infection. She was under observation for three days, but sadly, her baby died yesterday. I am not sure whether the baby died before, during or after delivery. From what I understand, the infection is the most likely culprit. There are a string of nasty viruses that result in stillbirth, such as CMV, Rubella, Listeriosis, Varicella and Toxoplasmosis. Media are reporting her loss as a "miscarriage" although this is inaccurate. I am fairly sure that Lily was more than 24 weeks pregnant, indicating viability of the foetus, and therefore the correct terminology for her loss is "stillbirth" or "neonatal death" (in the event of death occurring after delivery). I wont get into the "stillbirth" vs. "miscarriage" debate, as most know how I feel about comparisons between the two. I will say for the record, miscarriage is a tragedy I understand the sadness that accompanies this loss. But it is a very different experience to a stillbirth and unless you have experienced a stillbirth, it is hard to understand. That is all I will say on the matter. I am not sure why the media is reporting her loss as a "miscarriage." Is that less "offensive" or confrontational for readers?
I am very sad for Lily. No more sad for her than any other babylost mother, just because of her celebrity status, although it must be terribly difficult to endure this in the public eye. I remember my intense desire to hibernate in the days and weeks after Sybella's death. I had the luxury of being able to. No doubt, Lily will be hounded by media and paparazzi, which is the utmost in cruelty during this time. If anything, though, one day, when Lily is starting to find some peace and strength, she will hopefully help bring awareness and attention to stillbirth and neonatal death.

As we see today, stillbirth affects all walks of life and does not discriminate. I hope Lily and Sam find some gentle days ahead. It's a long road.

Lina and Stella

2010-10-26T16:13:00.011+11:00

This is not a post about stillbirth, thank goodness. It is a post, however, about the miracle of life, the fight to survive against all odds and the wonder of medical intervention when necessary.

I met my dear friend Lina in 2008. I was trying to conceive a baby, as was she. We both joined a forum to find support and advice from other women in the same boat, but I quickly took a shine to Lina in particular, along with another beauty called Belinda. These two seemed to share my kooky sense of humour and were on my wavelength all the time. We became good friends and now have cemented the friendship...I count these two amongst my nearest and dearest.
Lina suffered from Polycystic Ovary Syndrome which was a challenge for her fertility. However, when I was 20 weeks pregnant with Sybella, she announced that she too was newly pregnant, at 6 weeks. When Sybella was born, Lina was still pregnant and thriving. I have no doubt that it was a terrible time for her, trying to support me, without pushing her own pregnancy upon me. She is an incredibly empathetic person and feels everything you do. She cries easily and would give you the food off her plate if it made you happy. She is thoughtful and honest and honours your wishes. She deserved to relish in her pregnancy, seeing as it took so long to achieve but selflessly put her feelings aside and supported me instead.
Her daughter, Stella, was due late August. Stella’s due date came and went and I checked Facebook regularly for updates or a birth announcement. As days went by, I got a little edgy. I never had a “bad” feeling about Stella’s birth, but I was consumed with anxiety, as I have met so many mothers in grief whose baby has died after 40 weeks. Many many many. To myself only, I secretly urged Lina to induce sooner rather than later. Of course, induced birth is much more intense than natural birth and you want to avoid it of you can. I know there are many births that go over 40 weeks, even up to 42 weeks and babies are fine. But from my experience, going past 40 weeks scared me. Of course, I did not want to impart my personal fear, based purely on my own experience, onto a new mother-to-be, with birth being imminent. So I kept quiet. Chances are, things would be fine and go smoothly.

The following is an extract from Lina’s birth story:

Paul was struggling to see me like this and so he asked if there was anything they can do for me. She offered pethidine and although it helped with my back pain, and slightly took the edge off my contractions, it really just made me totally drugged out and sleepy. I am not sure if I slept. This period was really blurry and dreamy for me. At about 10am, it was only Paul and I in the room and I saw him bolt out. Next thing I know a midwife has come in and turned the Pitocin off. Someone else is putting oxygen on me and then she told the other two midwifes to ‘prepare me’. What had happened was Paul was watching Stella’s heart rate and saw it drop to 60, he knew that this was not a good thing and ran to get the midwife. Thank God he was there. The midwife explained that the Pitocin was causing Stella’s heart rate to drop as I had been on it for while now and it was turned up quite strong. They got Stella’s heart rate under control and left the Pitocin off for a while to help her out....

Paul said “I can smell the C word” and I was a bit confused. The midwife went out of the room and came back with a doctor. The doctor told me that Stella’s heart rate was rising and she was in distress and that at this point after 11 hours (26 by my clock) of labour it was time to get her out and so a C- Section was my option. Of course I never hesitated. Not after I heard my poor baby was in distress. Especially after her little heart had plummeted hours earlier. I think she was having enough.
Finally Paul was there and held my hand and the surgery began. It was so strange and so scary, to feel the pulling but not have pain, to know my baby was coming any time. But baby was stuck! Apparently she was stuck pretty far down so someone had to push her up for the surgeon to get her out.

Then she came out and she wasn’t breathing.

Paul was white as a ghost and looked like he was about to collapse. I told him it was okay, she would be okay, but I could not comfort him and it hurt so bad to see him like that. The anaesthetist was really nice and comforted Paul. After 3 minutes of resuscitation Stella began crying and we were told she was okay.
Back in Recovery, a midwife came to talk to us and this is why Stella is a miracle. Not only did she survive the Pitocin scare, not only did she survive being stuck and then having to be resuscitated, but we were told Stella had a ‘true knot’ in her cord. True knots happen in 1% of pregnancies. Also her cord was extremely thin where it attached to the placenta and was pretty much about to be ripped off. Had Stella been born vaginally she would not have survived. The midwife said she had only ever seen two cases like this and one baby died. They do not know how she survived as her cord was pretty bad and she was overdue but she did. It doesn’t bother me that she came via C-Section. What bothers me is that more scans are not done in pregnancy to detect things like this. When I can get my head around to having another baby, I will be going private and getting scans done later in the pregnancy, I will also probably opt for an elective C-Section where I have my baby at 38 weeks or something.
I never ever want to go through what I went through ever again. It is so hard to write it down with the emotion I feel or the story deserves but I just look at my baby every day and thank God that she is here with us. As going by the ‘rules’ of nature she should not have been here, but she is and I know that miracles like this happen through a greater power and whatever that power is, whatever you believe in, saved my baby’s life.

So. There you have it.

The first time I read this story, my heart was in my mouth. I could not believe what I was reading. The thing I love about Lina is that she makes no apologies for her choices and never needs to defend herself. Back when I had Jack, I was not so smart or self assured. I had a scheduled C-Section because he was breech and copped a fair bit of flack for not having a trial of labour, from a wide range of people...midwives, friends and family. The fact of the matter is, that my C-Section was beautiful, my son was lifted into the light of the world amidst laughter and joy and I held my pink, breathing baby against my chest straight away. Very different from my natural labour with Sybella, who slipped out, blue and silent, an atmosphere shrouded in grief. Of course, she did not die in labour like Lina’s daughter may have, she died beforehand. I am grateful for my natural birth. I was lucky, my labour was easy and short...it wasn’t my perineum being ripped in two, however, it was my heart. Our birth helped us bond and it helped me process my grief. Natural birth proponents often speak of “empowerment.” My natural birth wasn’t empowering, it was heartbreaking. My C-Section however, was empowering. Because to me, empowerment is life and life is empowerment. I am sure that Lina feels the same way. Had Stella been born naturally, and subsequently died, I am not sure that Lina would say “well, my natural birth experience was empowering, despite the outcome.” I think Lina would have regretted her decision not to have a C-Section that would have saved her baby’s life. Some people think that too many women are bullied and coerced into surgery out of fear and doctor’s convenience. I am sorry, but I do not know one doctor who would do this. That is almost like me ticking all the words right on a spelling test of a child in my class, just to get home quicker. Unprofessional, unhelpful and just plain wrong. One particularly delightful website used the terminology “doctors who play the dead baby card.” Having HAD a dead baby, I can tell you, it is not a card to be played. I was horrified that a baby’s life was likened to a card game in the most trivial way. A stillbirth outcome is very real and I resented the implication that doctors feed unnecessary fear into labouring mothers, they “pretend” that the baby’s life is at risk, just to get them to agree to a C-Section. I think obstetricians have seen enough stillbirths to know that taking that tack is highly immoral and unethical.
When a woman needs a C-Section, it is wrong to question her decision. It is wrong to assume that C-Sections are the “easy option”...when most are performed as emergency surgery, with a distressed baby and terrified mother. It is wrong to assume that doctors are scalpel-happy due to the ease of convenience.
Natural birth is the ultimate goal. It is a beautiful thing, if all goes smoothly and well and there are no complications. I loved my physical birth experience. It was beautiful and peaceful. It was the ending that broke my heart. There was no joy or empowerment in that.
Lina’s story is one of beauty...despite the “clinical, sterile” environment that it took place in, a mass of surgical instruments, tubes and monitors. Who cares about all that?

Her daughter lived.

Picture Post ~ Balloon Release

2010-10-24T19:50:00.001+11:00

Photos of our Candlelit Balloon Release on October 16 try to do justice to the magnificence and beauty of the day itself and the tranquil atmosphere. You'll get the idea...

(Thanks Barb, for doing such a magnificent job...you really helped capture the spirit of the day.)

Sybella's luminaire candle

Candles for the babies

Thinking of Briasell

Missing their sister

Peace

Adrian, Sam and Sam (my brother on the right)

Writing love notes for their baby

Messages of love

Kelvin, the Balloon Filler-Upperer

A balloon for Sybella, from Jack

Waiting for release

Jack with Sybella's balloon

Saying a few (emotional) words prior to release

Singing for the babies and their families

Angus and Julia Stone's "Big Jet Plane"

Singing gentle tunes as balloons were released

Balloons were released as babies names were called one by one

Watching for Astrid Rose

Balloons filled the sky...

For all the precious babies...

Candlelit Balloon Release

2010-10-21T14:51:00.001+11:00

What a beautiful evening. Never did I think my balloon release event would be so successful and powerful. We had approximately sixty people there and seventeen babes represented on the beach that night. Too many babes. It was a very windy day, but somehow the wind died down by dusk and the families talked, laughed and children ran around like pixies on the sand. The peace and tranquility was unmissable as people bonded over their lost little ones. Sam and Adrian sang beautiful tunes as people milled around, lighting candles for their babes and having their balloons blown up. I said a few words prior to the release. Words I had prepared and practiced...however, that didnt matter I started crying before my speech was over. That was embarrassing, kinda. Because I wasnt expecting it and I wasnt composed at all! I knew everyone understood, but I'm not a public crier, so it was a challenge for me to show that side. Sam and Adrian then sang "Big Jet Plane" by Angus and Julia Stone...a song we chose because it reminded us of how Jack said Sybella had taken a rocket to Heaven. Balloons were released into the sky as I called the babies names one by one and it was a beautiful blue sky filled with green balloons, ready to be caught by the souls in Heaven. It was a magnificent sight.
Now, my next post will be a picture post of the Balloon Release. I am still editing my images, so bear with me!
Given the success of the event, we will be hosting another one next year! Hurrah! Hopefully we will have a little eight month old with us that day...!
If you were there, thankyou for coming. If I met you for the first time, it was a pleasure to meet you that night and share the experience.
Lots of love.

Light For Sybella

2010-10-21T14:08:00.000+11:00

Our candle for Sybella

As stated in my previous post, October 15 was the day of The Wave of Light. From 7pm until 8pm, we kept our candle burning for Sybella, along with the rest of Australia who lit a candle to honour their own baby or a loved one's baby.
I was deeply moved to receive easily over two dozen messages from family and friends who wanted to tell me that they had lit a candle for Sybella too. I even got some photos from very special people of their candle that they had lit for her. It really did mean the world to know that Bell was being hnoured and remembered so beautifully. Gosh, I dont know another little girl, who never even breathed, who has touched so many lives! I am so proud that she is my daughter. Her strength continues to shine out, even though she isnt physically here and her baby spirit is just remarkable. Thank you all for your commemoration of Sybella's life.

From Lina

From Kylie

From Tori

Wave of Light

2010-10-15T16:12:00.003+11:00

A bit late with this...sorry.

Can You Help?

2010-10-08T13:06:00.001+11:00

One of my favourite blogs is Mamamia written by social commentator Mia Freedman.
Yesterday, she posted this.
A fellow reader had given birth to her daughter, Georgie, at 37 weeks. Stillborn.
WHY does this keep happening?
Have a read of this post...if you are a parent of a child who has died, Bec (the mother) would really appreciate any ideas that are special ways to commemorate a lost child. You might have had a special or unique idea that you would like to share with her.
Very much appreciated. xx

The Back Up Plan

2010-10-04T17:27:00.002+11:00

Who has seen this movie?

Warning: I'm feeling controversial and...a little bit narky.

A bit about me and movies...they are my escape. Whenever I am overwhelmed by reality, my antidote is to go to the movies, lose myself in the dark and choc-tops, and become part of the story on the screen.

Which brings me to another (very trivial, unimportant) way in which experiencing stillbirth has changed me forever as a person.

I cant enjoy movies any more.

Well, no, that's a blanket statement. I can no longer enjoy movies about babies, pregnancy and birth...which were my favourite kind. I cant enjoy them anymore from an escapism point of view...all these types of movies are absurdly and cringe-worthily (ha!) inaccurate. Well, they always were, of course. But now, I can no longer appreciate them as light entertainment.

Lets dissect The Back Up Plan as an absurd baby film.

Zoe (Jennifer Lopez) has reached a point in her life where she wants to have a baby. She doesnt have a may-an though. She decides to take matters into her own hands (you go, girl) and undergo IUI (Intra-uterine Insemination) with donor sperm. She's on the path to (single) motherhood! She can do this, see, because she owns a pet shop and is scarily financially secure for a single woman in her early 30's.

Bam, one IUI transfer later, Zoe's pregnant! Post insemination, she waltzes out of the Cryobank, on Cloud Nine. She's happy. She has taken her future into her own hands and made it happen. Until the man she is destined to be with rips off her taxi. Wait...can someone smell a cynic? My apologies.
On the very same day as her insemination, Zoe meets Stan. As I romantically put earlier, they get into a taxi at the same time, in the rain (of course) and Stan, gentleman that he is, refuses to get out. He's made an impression on Zoe. So much so, that when she accidentally bumps into him at the grower's market, they are well on the way to falling in love. Well, my interpretation is that he coerces her into a date.
As you do, ten minutes before a date with a dishy guy, Zoe does a pregnancy test. (It's the best time to do one, isnt it?) Of course, Stan rings the bell before Zoe can read the result, and by the time she gets back to the test, her two-legged dog has eaten the stick with her urine on it.
Fast forward, Zoe IS indeed pregnant, she REALLY likes Stan and is in a bit of a pickle, so to say. What does one do in this situation? The guy or the baby? The guy...who you met a week ago, and is obviously The One...as we ALL know is, after one week. Or the baby...the baby, already firmly ensconsed in your womb, thriving, on which that you spent upwards of $7000 being procedurally inseminated...that you wanted SO BADLY that you were willing to sacrifice everything for single motherhood (at the time).
What to do, what to do?
(Disclaimer: I am pro-choice. But I am just trying to point out the absurdity of such a "dilemma.")

The answer is simple. Well, it is if you live in reality. My (very vocal) response to this "dilemma" was this:

Good God, lady. You're only 5 weeks pregnant. Just take the next 7 weeks to see...

Where this relationship with Stan the Man goes
If you even make it to 12 weeks and sustain a viable pregnancy. J.Lo, 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage.
If you do make it to 12 weeks, then broach the pregnancy subject with Stan in an honest and adult manner. Explain your fear of wilted ovaries and how your proactivity is actually an admirable quality. Give him some time to digest the information.
If he does a runner, then obviously, he wasnt The One you thought he was. And it is back to the way is started, you with a beautiful baby, who was first in the queue anyway.
If Stan sticks around, double bonus. Instant family. Boom.

The most pertinent feeling in all this was "J.Lo! Two lines on a stick doesnt equal baby. Just wait. Wait and see. You never know what will happen."

When Zoe is 14 weeks, she starts buying up big in baby shops. She buys bottle teats (I wonder if she researched the benefits of breatsfeeding first?) and matching sailor suits (oh, yeah, cause she's having TWINS!) I watch these scenes from behind my hands. I yell at her to keep the receipts. I am such a party pooper.

She has a transvaginal ultrasound at one point, and when the obstetrician removes the wand, it has BLOOD on it! Now look, perhaps this is normal. The Hollywood OB seemed to think so. J.Lo didnt seem worried. But I KNOW that if I had a transvaginal ultrasound and there was blood on the wand, I would have a heart attack. ANY sight of blood in pregnancy has the potential to make my lose my mind.
As for Zoe's diet. Well. She eats hotdogs from Grey's Papaya. Hotdogs are high on the Listeria risk sheet. As are McFlurry's from McDonalds. but she eats those. She drinks champagne. And...this is the cracker. (Oh, I forgot to mention that Stan is a stand up guy and ends up sticking around to raise J.Lo's sperm donor's twins). Stan makes goats cheese for a living. On a farm. With little/no pasteurisation procedures. Granted, I never see Zoe eat any. But who knows? It just seemed a weird profession for her boyfriend to have...Goats Cheese Connoisseur. Of all the things, he was King of Listeria.
Ah, the birth scenes! My favourite. There are two.
Zoe attends the homebirth of one of the members of her single mother's group. Ive never seen a homebirth. So I dont know. But I gather that it is pretty similar to a hospital birth, except that it is at home? Do 12 women walk around the house chanting tribal tunes while beating a drum? Does the mother scream obscenities at everyone within earshot? Is it usual to release your bowels in the birthing pool before Stage 2 pushing has commenced? And then stay there? I am sure there was some comedic purpose to these events, but all is did for me was make it clear that this movie was projecting homebirthers as wild, out of control, pooing, drum beating hippies. It certainly wasnt shown as beautiful or peaceful, which I have heard homebirth is. There was grunting and shouting and swearing and people everywhere! This is in comparison to J.Lo's refined birth, she endured the entire thing in her bridesmaid's dress. Because, as she danced in a Conga line at her grandmother's wedding, her waters broke and all her grandmother's geriatric friends went slip-sliding in amniotic fluid. Anway, her entire (first ever, twin) labour lasted the entire ride to the hospital (all of 20 minutes, I imagine), whereby she gets to hospital, lies back on the gurney in a very ladylike manner (her hair still looks fab) and all of a sudden, it's time to push! And she pushes those twins out in relative quiet, compared to her homebirthin' friend from earlier on.
Two beautiful girls are born, with red hair and freckles, despite J.Lo's obvious dominant gene Latina darkness. Stan lurves them, and Zoe and Stan get busy with baby number 3 very soon after.

Does anyone want to offer me a job as a movie critic?

Essentially, my two points are:

Hollywood needs to research more when making obsteric-themed films.
It is such a shame that my experience of stillbirth has tainted even light hearted rom-coms that even I know have little to no intelligent qualities...they are made purely for enjoyment.

But stillbirth never lets you forget.

Repondez S'il Vous Plait!

2010-09-27T16:23:00.003+10:00

Dont forget that

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day is coming up.

On October 16, Kelvin, Jack and I are hosting a candlelit balloon release in honour of all babies who have died. Having scrambled eggs grief brain coupled with baby brain, I forgot to ask people to RSVP...without realising if I dont know how many are coming, how do I know how many balloons or candles to get?!

I'd really appreciate it, if you plan on coming, if you could shoot me off a comment to let me know. Also, let me know how many balloons you need. Just so I can get a vague idea of numbers.

Very much appreciated.

The Silence of Stillbirth

2010-09-27T13:06:00.000+10:00

Why is stillbirth a taboo subject? Why does it make some people uncomfortable? What is it about a dead baby that makes people clam up, avoid eye contact and avoid me?

I get that stillbirth is a sad topic, I do understand that. I know that sad topics are usually ones that people prefer to leave alone. Why focus on something sad when you can focus on something else that isnt? I also know that other people may not know how I have been, where I am in my grief, and will not bring up Sybella with me for fear of sparking something off that I may have already buried. Does that make sense? I am really trying to marry my frustration with understanding and compassion for the average person, so apologies if I sound jumbled. I know that some are trying to protect me and my feelings by not mentioning Sybella or stillbirth, for fear of upsetting me. I appreciate it, I do. It is coming from a place of consideration and kindness, I recognise that. Interestingly, though, no matter how much someone brings up Sybella, your mentioning of her is never going to upset me than I already am. I never stop thinking about her. She is on my mind one hundred times a day. Dont assume that I've forgotten her and if you bring her up you will stir up my grief. On the contrary. Talking about Sybella with me will show me your courage and bravery. It will demonstrate that she existed as a real person to you. My grief is a never ending plateau of sadness now. It has leveled out but always present. No one needs to worry about stirring it up.
Ultimately, people dont know how to act in these situations. I must respect that. I know the average person means well, but is ill equipped to deal with the situation when thrown into it. They freeze, become jittery, or avoid me altogether. I sense that I become the tragic burden on everyone's shoulders, the sad lady in the room, and Sybella's name hangs, unsaid, in the air while everyone else desperately tries to keep the otherwise jovial spirit of the social situation in question alive.

This probably sounds unfair of me.

The thing is, I cant ask people to behave in a way that makes them uncomfortable. I can only expect from people whatever they are willing to express to me. It just so happens, I have much more time and appreciation for those who speak Sybella's name with me, confidently, without squirming, without a pitiful sideways glance. I never knew that experiencing stillbirth would make me feel so embarrassed. Well, actually, I dont feel that. But there is the potential to go into overdrive to cover my grief so that others dont feel uncomfortable. I try (but NEVER succeed, because it exhausts me) to remain upbeat and smiley so the person I am speaking to doesnt need to feel awkward about how they should act or what they should say. I take control so the other person is free from their fear about how to handle me.

I dont want people to be awkward around me. I hate feeling responsible for their discomfort. I never want to bring anyone down with my experience. But my daughter did die. It happened. I am going to carry it forever. I can say I am sorry if that makes anyone feel uncomfortable, but I wont. The ideal would be for people to lose their awkwardness about stillbirth and infant loss. I cant change people, I know. But really, if anything, treat me normally. I dont always want to speak about her, I dont always want to speak about stillbirth. I am capable of talking about other stuff too. If I start talking about other stuff, engage with me, instead of fidgeting and wondering how long until I bring up Bella. And when I do bring up Bella, talk with me as if we were talking about any other child.

I dont want to sound unfair, seriously and I hope I dont. Chances are, if you are reading this, you arent a person who is afraid of me at the moment and if I know you in "real life" you are natural and normal with me! Because those who are usually avoid anything to do with stillbirth, including my blogs. I am also not pointing any fingers...what I have just written about just seems to be a generalised reaction to a Babylost parent, epecially in the months after the death. An observation, if you will.

The question remains: WHY is stillbirth such a silenced topic?

The Place of Religion In All This

2010-09-24T09:30:00.000+10:00

Psalm 126:5

Those who sow in tears will

reap with songs of joy

This was a post I had always intended to write. I wanted to ponder the role of religion and God when a baby dies. It may have the potential to be controversial, but it is definitely not my intention. Let me say for the record...I believe in God. I am not particularly religious in a formal sense. I am a Christian person of the Anglican denomination. I have no ill feelings toward any Christian denomination or any major world religion. I respect people's beliefs and faith as their own, despite the fact they may be different to mine.

I was spurred on to write this while it was fresh, however, due to a heated debate I unintentionally became involved in at another blog. The post was generally equating IVF to abortion and maligning many IVF-ers in a very judgemental and disrespectful way. Unfortunately, as someone who is the furthest thing from a fence sitter there is, I had to put in my 2 cents. Kelvin asks if I have anything better to do with my time. But I think sticking up for my friend Haidee, who has been on the infertility journey since January 2008 and is currently undergoing IVF, was a great use of my time. If you feel like reading this rather controversial post, stop in at Haidee's insightful and fabulous blog, Maybe Baby (Or Maybe The Loony Bin?) and follow the links. (I cant bring myself to post the actual link to the controversial post here...I just cant give it any more oxygen).

Okay. The role of religion.
I see God as my friend. I am not being trivial or blase here. I feel that he is a kind, loving God who understands why (normal, reasonable) people do the things they do. When Sybella first died, I was very angry with God. It was momentary and the anger passed. I did not feel bad or fearful of being angry at God. I did not think He would smite me for my anger. I read a quote once that said "it is okay to be angry at God. He can handle it." I believe that. I think He saw a young mother, desperate with grief, not understanding the reason for her daughter's death and who needed to be angry. God wore my anger for that time because He knew it is what I needed and He loves me. I am human. He gets that.
When my anger passed, I realised that God had a reason. This reason for taking Sybella back was beyond any understanding I could possibly fathom while I am here on Earth. I will find out that reason when I die myself. I know He will sit down and explain why our family had to go through this. I have to wait for that. But I just have to trust that God's plan is the right one and not question it any further.
Many people have told me that they dont believe in God anymore. They wonder what kind of God would allow a baby to die...as well as allow any of the other atrocities to take place in today's world occur. It is a valid thought and argument, but not one I hold myself. I always have believed in God, and still do.
I have to believe in God because if I dont, what does that mean for Sybella? I am immensly comforted by the thought that she is being taken care of by Him and that He welcomed her lovingly into Heaven. He looks after her until I get there and can do it myself.
That is really all I need to say on the subject. When is comes to being a Christian, my main values are:

That a person's relationship with God is between God and that person. No one else has the right to interfere.
In today's polluted and disposable society, it is important to practice love, kindness and acceptance...the main qualities of Christianity. Not judgement or self-righteousness. God is our only judge.
God understands. He always understands.

Ideas? Thoughts? Always welcome. (But be gentle). xx

There Is Hope Yet

2010-09-22T08:57:00.001+10:00

A while ago I wrote about Maddie and Matilda and their story of grief, loss and ultimately hope. To quickly summarise, I met Maddie through grief. Her daughter Matilda died at 3 days old. Maddie became pregnant again and if you look at the link above, she allowed me to post one of her ultrasound pictures. If you havent seen it, have a look. It will give you goosebumps.

I found out today that Maddie has given birth to a beautiful son, Max, her rainbow baby. I am not sure of details yet, but I am so happy for Maddie and her family. Max is proof that there is hope for all of us Babylost Mamas out there. I am sending my most heartfelt congratulations and best wishes to the Murray family. I also thank Matilda for sending her brother Max safely into this world.

Bella's Lullaby

2010-09-16T16:08:00.001+10:00

This song was played at Sybella's funeral. It was the opening piece of reflection music. It is one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard.

Heartbeats

2010-09-16T15:55:00.003+10:00

My friend Lina has the following quote on her Facebook profile. I love it so much...and it relates so much to me and Sybella that I have to share it.
Nobody will ever know the strength of my love for you.
After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside.

What Do You Think?

2010-09-16T15:52:00.000+10:00

Do you think that babies who die become angels...or are they looked after by angels in Heaven?

My Bedside

2010-09-12T13:26:00.001+10:00

This is what my bedside table has looked like since April. Some of these I have read, some I havent. Some I have read only parts of. They have all been valuable. Most grief books seem to say the same things. It makes me wonder if there is a "formula" for grief or perhaps a societal expectation for "normal" grieving behaviour? However, all the books do say that whatever you feel is normal and natural, and you must process your feelings in the way that makes you most comfortable. They also say there is no time limit. I gues that's the main thing. I like the books that dont use majority terminology. For example, "Most people do..." "many parents feel..." "All couples think..." Sometimes I read the sentence and DIDNT feel that or think it or do it. So I felt abnormal, that I had a different experience and was somewhat a variant of the majority. That said, there are only very few books that do that.

Here are the names of the books if you feel like reading any of them:

Trying Again: Ann Douglas and John R Sussman. A good guide for those considering a subsequent pregnancy
Always a Part of Me (Surviving Childbearing Loss): Amanda Collinge, Sue Daniels and Heather Grace Jones. Valuable because it is a collection of stories from real people with real experiences. I know Amanda Collinge personally and she is quite a remarkable woman.
Empty Cradle, Broken Heart (Surviving the Death of Your Baby): Deborah L Davis. I havent read this one yet. Sorry.
Pregnancy Loss (Surviving Miscarriage and Stillbirth): Zoe Taylor. A good guide for the emotional side of things. A bit repetitive and general.
Small Miracles (Coping With Infertility, Miscarriage, Stillbirth and Premature Birth): Rachel Stanfield Porter and The Bonnie Babes Foundation. I havent read this one either.
Stillbirth and Newborn Death: Deb De Wilde and Peter Barr. I spent some time with the author Deb in one of her support groups. She is a fantastic social worker and excels in the field of infant loss. A great read.

I hope this has been of some help to any Babylost Mamas today.

News

2010-09-08T10:11:00.001+10:00

First of all, I want to say a huge thankyou for all the wonderful support for my readers and followers so far. You have given me such a wonderful gift, and that gift has been healing. Through my blog, I have been able to process so much of my grief and every single reader's interest and support has been invaluable.
I have some news...which some of you might have guessed already. I am pregnant again. About 15 weeks. Yes, I know. Sybella only died 20 weeks ago.
Seriously, Kelvin and I dont even know how this happened! The biggest point of confusion was the fact that Sybella took 18 cycles, of painstaking intercourse timing, cervix checking, and charting, to conceive. So of course, after Sybella was born,Kelvin and I werent particularly careful, after the difficulties of last time. We are very happy about our new baby. We look forward to meeting him or her (I think it's a him) in February 2011...only due a week after Jack's 5th birthday. That said, it was such a big shock and brought about many bittersweet feelings. It happened very quickly, a bit too quickly for us. I am still grieving deeply, of course. I feel guilty that Sybella didnt get a long enough period of grace...although she will forever have a period of grace in my heart. It has also been a very anxious and exhausting time. I am terribly afraid of this baby dying too. And I am physically exhaused...only having one month off between pregnancies. Today is September 8 2010. I found out I was pregnant with Sybella on September 29 2009. And I am still pregnant!
But we take it one day at a time and say a little prayer every now and then for a happy ending.
I understand, given whatever your personal situation is, if you dont continue to read or visit here. I really hope that isnt the case because I value and appreciate every single person who visits Born Still. And rest assured, I will not be writing about my pregnancy here, apart from this announcement post. This is Sybella's site. It's just for her, so I am not going to overtake it with news about the new baby. And I will continue to write here about Sybella and stillbirth. The new baby has it's own blog too...you will be able to read the weekly diary of my pregnancy at my other blog,
Rainbow Baby. You can also click the Rainbow Baby button on the right sidebar and it will take you to the new blog.
However, I am a bit behind in my anecdotes...only up to Week 8. Hoping to catch up soon!
Wishing everyone a gentle day today. xx

Beautiful Memories

2010-09-07T15:40:00.001+10:00

I am adding some more photos of some of the memories we have made of Sybella. The first photo is of the flowers that sat on top of her casket at her funeral. They have been preserved and framed. Although the end result is quite spectatcular, I am overcome with sadness by how small the bouquet is. A tiny bouquet of flowers for a tiny coffin. It's just not fair.

The second photo is of my brother Patrick. He is 20 in December. He asked me if I minded if he got a tattoo of Sybella's name. Of course I didnt mind, but I did think he was joking. Dont ask me why I thought that, I guess it just seemed like something out of the blue! Anyway, the next day, I received this photo texted to me on my iPhone. Patty had done it! He even took the Order of Service from the funeral so that the tattooist could copy the same font. This was such a beautiful thought and so unexpected. Kelvin and I are very touched and honoured, Pat. For you to have a permanent reminder of Sybella etched onto your body...not only is it selfless, but it honours her memory in an extremely unique and beautiful way. So thank you. We love you, little brother.

(PS: The photo is smaler than the other one l because it is copied from my iPhone and the quality isnt great if I enlarge it. Just wanted to make sure everyone knew that!)

Winded

2010-09-05T11:17:00.001+10:00

Sometimes it just hits me that I am a mother to a dead child.
From the time I had Jack, my child dying was my worst fear. With him, I did everything in my power to keep him safe. Then, when pregnant with Sybella, I did the same. I took no risks. I sacrificed many things.

And I am the mother of a dead baby.
I will be, for the rest of my life.

I will often be doings something mundane, like stacking the dishwasher, and the full force of that concept will punch me in the stomach out of nowhere.

Sybella is dead.
My child is dead.

I then become physically unable to support myself. Sometimes I will sink to the floor and lean against the cupboard while I catch my breath. Sometimes the emotional punch to the stomach affects me physically and I feel winded. I bend over, clutching my stomach while I remember. That she died.
This still happens, 4 months on. Out of the blue, most of the time.
It is the worst thing in the world to be a mother to a child who died.

Petition

2010-08-31T17:31:00.001+10:00

Taken from the PILARI website:

International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day (Oct 15th).
People from every country are invited to add their name to this petition.
Oct. 15th is already recognised annually as International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day in other countries in the world, such as the USA and in parts of Canada.
PILARI has been lobbying Australian politicians to have this official Day declared since June 2008. So far there has been uncontested support from both sides of Parliament House, but the process continues.
This petition is being brought to the Australian federal government, asking for the official recognition (every year) of Oct 15th as International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day across Australia.

To sign the petition to have International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day officially recognised in Australia, click here.

Thank you.

You Were

2010-08-30T18:35:00.002+10:00

Kathy writes: "I wrote a song with some friends using the words and ideas I heard in my work as a bereavement support nurse."
I had a look on YouTube and was very moved by the beautiful lyrics and music. It is definitely worth having a listen, especially if you are a Babylost parent.
Thank you, Kathy, for sharing such a beautiful piece of musical art.

PILARI Publication

2010-08-29T12:40:00.001+10:00

PILARI (Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness and Research Institute) recently published Sybella's Birth Story on their website.
This website has many amazing articles for bereaved parents. If you are one, take the time to have a look around. There are many pieces of writing to relate to.

Beauty In The Breakdown

2010-08-29T12:30:00.001+10:00

Stephanie Paige Cole of The Sweet Pea Project has published my poem entitled 3 Months in her Beauty in the Breakdown Gallery.
There are some beautiful and heart-stopping pieces of work from many bereaved parents in this online gallery. Take some time to have a look. You will be amazed.
Thank you Stephanie.

Published!

2010-08-29T12:16:00.001+10:00

I am very honoured to have had my writing reproduced in so many esteemed publications so far.
Kimberly from Fertility Flower has published pieces of my writing on her blog Fertile Imagination, SANDS SA (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Support, South Australia) has published some of my work also.
I am proud to share two more samples of my published work in the following two posts.

Sybella's Ashes

2010-08-29T11:56:00.001+10:00

Sybella's body was cremated on the 6th of May 2010. The idea of cremation has the ability to be distressing, because of what cremation actually entails. But so does the thought of a little body decomposing somewhere. So we chose cremation.
The quintessential social and cultural belief is that ashes of a body should be scattered. Back when Sybella first died, I was bombarded by people about what "will be organised" and "what should be done" and "the proper way to do things." I didnt have the energy or strength to argue or fight it. I am happy with the way things went regarding Sybella's autopsy, viewings, funeral and memorial pieces. But lots of people had their own ideas about the way things should have been.

The cremation of Sybella's body seemed to be widely accepted, but I was met with surprise over what Kelvin and I decided to do with Sybella's ashes.

We kept them.
They sit on her shrine, with her photos and candles, a little white box with a silver nameplate on the top.

The normal expectation seems to be that ashes should be scattered. I think this goes hand in hand with the symbolism that the ashes should be "free" just like the spirit of the person who has died. It's a nice idea. I considered it at first, but only because I thought it was what I "should" do.

Then I got her ashes. All I could think of was that it was my baby in there. If I scattered her, the thought of her "blowing in the wind," in the middle of Winter appalled me. I didnt want her out in the cold, alone, away from us, her family. I wanted Sybella inside.

If she were alive, she would be at home, warm and snug, wrapped up. So that's where her ashes should be. At home, with her family, where she belongs. Warm. Safe. And that's where they are.

Fertility Flower Pregnancy Loss Week 2010

2010-08-24T19:30:00.001+10:00

This week (August 23-27) is Pregnancy Loss Week over at Fertility Flower's blog, Fertile Imagination.
Yesterday they published my post entitled Mothering After Loss and today Sybella's birth story was featured (click here to view original story).
Kimberly from Fertility Flower has constructed this blog carnival in a most respectful and wonderful way. She honours the mothers who have contributed stories as well as their babies. It is a lovely way to view the stories and perspectives of others who have lost children also.
If you are a Babylost Mother, I invite you to hop on over and check out some of the other posts...you will definitely find something to relate to.

Other People's Babies

2010-08-22T12:56:00.000+10:00

Other people's babies dont bother me.
When Sybella first died, and even now, many many people were very concerned about how I would react when confronted with a newborn baby, especially a girl.
When I went to pick up Sybella's hand and feet mouldings, the owner was mortified that she was moulding another new baby's hands when I showed up. She apologised profusely and said she had tried to arrange it so I wouldnt have to see any newborns. I shrugged it off.
Quite a few babies were born shortly after Sybella...and they were girls too. I remained fairly non-responsive about this too. I found it difficult to offer my congratulations, and often waited a few days or even weeks after the birth to do so. But, and this is very important, it was NOT because I was upset about the birth of these babies and felt "jealous" or resentful. I took my time in responding because I didnt want the new parents to feel uncomfortable around me. These new parents had every right to be excited and happy about their new addition...although I wanted Sybella to be acknowledged, I DID NOT want the new parents to feel like they had to hide their baby or down play it's birth because they were worried about how it would affect me and Kelvin. So I let them have their time, and when the initial excitement had died down, I would email or text...it was the best I could do, as it was still a sensitive predicament. Kelvin was better than me, he phoned personally. I would send my congrats along with him. Because of course, even though I never resented these babies or their parents, it still made me a little bit sad...I thought about what could have been and what should have been. I thought that it so easily could have been me with the new baby. But it wasnt. And yes, every news of a birth sent a pang through me, but at the end of the day, I really wasnt worried about it. Because of this:

That other baby wasnt MY baby. I only wanted MY baby, Sybella. I didnt want just any baby, for the sake of it. I only wanted her. If I saw a friend's new baby, I was able to hold it without sadness and differentiate between it and Sybella. I guess that is healthy, well, I tell myself it is.

So no-one need worry about the effect of new babies (or any aged baby for that matter) on me. Because, as this is my supremely honest blog, I am being very truthful (no brave faces here!) about how seeing another baby affects me. Sybella is the only baby I want. And since that baby isnt Sybella, seeing a baby for me is a non-issue.

I am so proud to be Sybella's mother and I wouldnt replace her for the world. To me, she's very different and much more special (in fact, I feel that way about all angel babies). Sybella is my daughter. Wouldnt change that for anything.

The Psychic

2010-08-21T12:56:00.000+10:00

Yes, I saw a psychic.
As my friend Hayley would say...a bit "harmy-schwarmy" (love it!) but desperate times call for desperate measures. It was about six weeks after Sybella's birth that I contacted this man and booked a pure clairvoyance reading...one that doesnt use tarot cards, he just looks into my past and future and knows things. Well, some things.
I enjoyed myself, but I also took it with a grain of salt. Mainly, I wanted to know if Sybella was all right. Of course, I cant say with any absolution that this man knew the answer to that definitively, but I guess it was a comfort in some respects.
I arrived and was ushered into a small room filled with candles and tarot reading books. It was quite cosy.
The psychic looked at me and stated "you only want to know about your children." I nodded, as this was correct. I did. He then trod carefully around the next question. "Who has recently died?"
He would have had to think carefully about asking this...even if he DID know Sybella had died. Just in case he was wrong, he couldnt ask a woman he didnt know if she had a dead baby. That woman would freak right out.
I let out my breath and took my time in answering. "My daughter was stillborn 6 weeks ago." The psychic just nodded. "That's a big one," he said. "Wow."
He started at the beginning of my timeline and seemed to know most of my history adequately. He picked up the year in which I got married and when I had Jack. He was accurate on Kelvin's personality, but not Jack's. He started talking about Sybella. He thought that she might have had some lung problems. I dont know about that, as the autopsy was inconclusive. He said that Sybella wanted to be in our family, but it wasnt the right time for her to come. She was coming back to join us, he said. This time, when she came back, she would be healthy and whole and strong, which is what she wanted to do because she wanted to dance. It was all very nice to listen to, but I am not sure whether I believe it all that much. I wanted to...I wanted to think she'd come back to us, but I am a very logical person and have trouble getting my head around it. He spoke about this daughter of ours that would be born in the next two years...I had trouble believing I would have another daughter! I am 99.9% sure our next baby is a boy...if I ever have another girl, I will eat my hat! I think Sybella was my girl and that's what makes her extra special.
The psychic said that our next daughter would be incredibly feminine. Like a pixie. And she would never outgrow it. He said that he could see her at 21, sitting at a table and cutting out lovehearts and butterflies. That sounded cute to me. He said she would be delicate and tiny and a beautiful dancer. All of that made me smile, because it would be lovely to have.
According to him, Sybella was safe and happy and that is all that mattered. She was with a fair skinned, red-haired woman who I think is my great-grandmother. I liked it that she was being looked after. It comforted me immensly.
As for his predictions, time will tell. I'll keep you all posted!

Day of Hope

2010-08-19T16:27:00.002+10:00

Today, August 19, is Day of Hope. Click here to visit the Day of Hope website.
This endeavour was organised by Carly Dudley of The Grief Effect, as August 19 is the anniversary of the day Carly began writing names of babies in the sand.
Carly says it best herself: "On August 19th we want hospitals from all over the world to be flooded with memory boxes. We encourage all people to take part in this special event regardless of whether they have lost a child or not. By doing this, together we break down the barriers of child loss being a taboo subject in society."
I donated memory boxes, Bears of Hope and copies of Stephanie Paige Cole's book Still to the hospital where Sybella was born today. They were warmly received by the Social Work staff.
In each box, I had a hat, booties, one of Carly's infant loss sympathy cards, blanket, a peace candle, a keepsake "faith" angel, disposable camera, Bears of Hope pamphlet, a Bear of Hope (with Sybella's name and birthday on the little tag) and a copy of Still (with a dedication to Sybella on the inside cover, my email address and Born Still's web address). That way, the family knows that they are not alone...that someone else has endured the same thing that they have.

A very sucessful day, all in all. As we work to promote Day of Hope, the coming years should bring about even more awareness.
Thank you all for your support. xx

Incredibly Amazing

2010-08-18T10:10:00.001+10:00

Okay, so this has nothing to do with stillbirth or neo-natal loss.

But.

I had to share it. This video is one of the most moving, touching, amazing tributes I have ever seen.
Unfortunately, it was too large to embed right here on the post, so you'll have to follow the link to YouTube: Click: Surprise Military Reunions.
Please trust me...dont bypass this video. It is spectacular.

Warning: have tissues handy.

Update #2

2010-08-12T09:34:00.001+10:00

Just a quick update to let you know I am off to Coffs Harbour tomorrow, until Tuesday, so I wont get a chance to blog during that time.
I will be preparing many posts upon my return, though, so I will be catching up with you all then!
Have a lovely weekend. xx

It Happens

2010-08-11T18:46:00.000+10:00

I always seem to run into trouble when I am 34 weeks pregnant. 34 weeks was when Sybella died.
When I was 34 weeks pregnant with Jack, I started bleeding heavily and was admitted to hospital for monitoring. They never found out what caused the bleeding, but suspicions were that it was placental. With Jack being a breech baby, and me having an anterior placenta, the concensus was that he'd kicked it and bit had come away. This made even more sense when part of my placenta was retained after birth, despite a c-section...the retained bit was probably the bit he kicked away. Jack was oblivious to the whole deal, while I quietly had a heart attack daily.
I was allowed to go home at 35 weeks when the bleeding stopped. As soon as I got home, I panicked, because if something went wrong now, I wouldnt know about it, and I didnt have the reassurrance of the foetal heart monitor being put on me twice a day.
I had an antenatal appointment at 36 weeks and relayed my concerns to the doctor on duty. I asked him what the incidence of stillbirth was after bleeding late in pregnancy. I was worried that the bleeding meant something sinister (as they werent positive it was placental) and was some kind of warning sign that the baby was in distress. (This wasnt so unusual, as I have since learned, for things to come a cropper so quickly...Sybella never showed any kind of distress prior to her death. She just stopped. There was absolutely no warning.) This doctor was writing in my file as I spoke. He looked up and shrugged his shoulders non-commitally.

"Shit happens," he said.

SHIT HAPPENS? When my tyre goes flat, then shit happens. When the grocery bag breaks, then shit happens. When the washing machine overflows, then shit happens. But the death of a baby?
Back then, I hadnt experienced a stillbirth, and Jack was born two weeks after this comment, on February 10 2006, pink and screaming. I knew how inappropriate, cruel and downright heartless this doctor's comment was then. I knew that even though Jack was alive, there would be some poor woman who delivered a stillborn baby around that time. I hoped and wished that this wouldnt be the doctor on duty for her delivery.
After Sybella's death, I was lying in bed one night, and this memory came flying into my head. I sat bolt upright, heart pounding, at the memory from 4 years ago.
How in the world can a doctor of obstetrics refer to a stillbirth as "shit" happening? It is despicable, is what it is.
We all know what stillbirth is. Tragic, unfair, heart-wrenching, life-stopping.
It deserves a description of much more credence and weight than "shit happens."
I cant even write about it anymore.
So wrong.

After Matilda

2010-08-10T11:13:00.001+10:00

I met Maddie on Mamamia, which is social commentator Mia Freedman's blog.
Maddie's daughter Matilda died when she was only days old. Maddie writes about her daughter at After Matilda. I dont feel like I can give her story justice by telling it here...it is a story of devastation but also pure love and hope. It is beautiful. I encourage you to visit her blog and read for yourself.
Maddie has become somewhat of an idol for me. She manages her grief with such dignity and grace. She allows herself to feel her grief and doesnt apologise for it...and nor should she. But I know that I have been guilty of hiding mine, so as not to make others uncomfortable. Maddie has shown me that first and foremost, I need to be true to my feelings and to Sybella's memory. So I am putting other people's comfort aside and focusing on speaking about Sybella as much as I need to.
Maddie is expecting another baby in approximately nine weeks time. She recently went for an ultrasound and she have given me permission to show the picture of her "Mungbean" as she calls her little one.

Now when I first saw this picture, I got goosebumps. Because I can clearly see her new baby there, facing the camera. But on the right hand side, I am positive that there is a profile of a larger baby, giving the smaller baby a kiss. How can you not say that this is Matilda? It hit me right in the face as soon as I saw it. There is a second baby. And it is Matilda, kissing her sibling and showing her mum and dad that she is okay. The spiritual aspect of this picture is amazing. I have never seen anything like it. For me, this proves that there is a Heaven, a world beyond Earth, filled with peace and happiness. It also proves that these little ones watch over us and want us to be okay. Maddie, you have been an inspiration to me. You have set the path for me to follow in my darkest hour. Your children are magnificent and are lucky to have you as a mother. Thank you.

For Friends and Family

2010-08-08T11:11:00.001+10:00

Link to: For Friends and Family

I posted this link on my Facebook page for Born Still (you can "like" the Facebook page on the sidebar if you wish) because it struck a very strong chord with me.
Carly Marie Dudley of The Grief Effect has come up with a list of ways that friends and family can be of the most help during the aftermath of a baby's death.
Now, I have been amazed at the support and kindness I have received in the previous months. Most people have been invaluable in the way they approached me and my family in the aftermath of Sybella's death. I appreciated honesty and sincerity the most, and I really appreciated when people brought up Sybella without being prompted. Because it meant she really existed to them, as well as me.
So I am not posting this link as some underhanded way of telling people how to behave after a stillbirth or neo-natal death. Because most people already know, and I saw the proof of that after Sybella was born.
I am posting this because I think that Carly has so gently and eloquently articulated the most important ways that a baby can be remembered and honoured by people other than his or her parents and siblings.
Sometimes the hardest part of the grieving process is a few months after. Because for everyone else, life goes on. They forget...not through any fault of their own, but because it hasnt affected them personally. I understand that. Sometimes, though, people are surprised to hear that I am still grieving, three and a half months on. Because life has gone on for them, then it must be going on for me, too. And the daily, trivial tasks continue to appear, of course, but there is always a shadow of pain and loss, every single day, and there will be until the day I meet Sybella in Heaven myself. I dont always show it, but the pain is constantly there. There is always something missing.
So I posted this link, just so people know that there are some wonderful ways to keep honouring that baby that died, and to support your friend or family member.
Take some time to have a look. The information is invaluable.
Thank you, Carly.

I'm Different Now

2010-08-06T17:08:00.000+10:00

I'm a different person now. Losing a child does something to a person. Priorities change. Different things matter. I am affected by things I wouldnt otherwise have been affected by a year ago.
Emotions run much closer to the surface. The News isnt just The News anymore. The News brings about tears from me, for the people that have had devastating things happen to them. Especially if it involves children. Last night, Kelvin and I went and spent a night at The Rydges in Cronulla. We wandered around looking for a place to have dinner and saw a family...a father and his three children. The father was walking quickly, holding the hands of his two younger children. The third child, the eldest, hung approximately five metres behind, struggling to keep up with the others. He struggled because he needed a walking frame to walk. The little boy was approximately four or five years old, so the same age as Jack. The father, without even turning his head, called sharply to his son to hurry up. The little boy sped up as fast as he could, while his dad kept walking at a swift pace, one his son would never catch up to, and what's more, he never turned his head to check how his son was doing. When the father started crossing the road without waiting for the little boy, my tears started to fall and an incredible urge came over me to scoop him up and take him home. And spend my life holding his hand as we crossed the road together.
You can make of that story whatever you like. Maybe I was too judgemental. I dont know what their family life is like. But all I saw was a little boy struggling to do what his father asked, despite a disability, and his father giving him no credence. The babylost mother in me just wanted to make it all okay for him.
So yes, children enduring hardship affects me more than ever. It always did...but now it is almost intolerable, the pain from seeing a child suffer.

I am a different person because I probably dont smile as much anymore. It takes a lot for me to really find something funny. People who knew me before Sybella's death may not understand my new demeanour. I have issues with trivial topics and find it hard to make smalltalk. I dont see the point in talking for the sake of it. I also have begun to dislike exclamation marks. Who knows why that is. I dont mind if they are used appropriately...if they are overused, I get frustrated. Perhaps that in itself is trivial?
Some of my changes as a person are not necessarily good. I am a lot less tolerant, I am beginning to lack the ability to give second chances. I may not answer phone calls or emails for ages, and I tend to get incredibly overwhelmed by very small things.
I try to stay mellow and easygoing. I am not always successful. I resent parents who are given healthy, beautiful children that they neglect or dont appreciate...and I have taught a few of those children. Children who (consistently) dont have lunch. Children in (consistently) dirty clothes. Children that (consistently) arent picked up from school until an hour after bell-time. I shouldnt resent these parents, because God has a reason for everything and it isnt my place to judge. But I am human, and not perfect.

This is a very honest post. And I own my changes as a person, and I am aware that they arent all positive. They are all the result of deep grief and I ask for understanding and patience. I may never go back to the "old" Steph. I dont know. I am just taking each day as it comes and riding the wave. Some days are harder than others. Just remember, if it takes me a while to get back to you, it is because of me, not you. It is because I feel vulnerable or overwhelmed. I have days like that.
And to those who stand by me during my darkest hour, those who understand that I am not myself and keep checking in anyway, who harbour patience with me...thank you. It means more that you know.

SANDS SA

2010-08-05T14:18:00.001+10:00

Just a quick update.
SANDS (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Support) South Australia have published some of my writing in their August newsletter. I dont think there is an online version, so I cant hyperlink it, but they published my posts Eulogy for Sybella Eve and 3 Months.
I reall hope some babylost mamas read those words and find some comfort that they are not alone on their journey.

Mothering After Loss

2010-08-05T13:44:00.002+10:00

I feel incredibly lucky that I have a living child. The only thing worse than experiencing the death of your child is experiencing the death of your ONLY child.

I remember the day after Sybella was born, and Jack came to visit us in hospital. My eyes welled with tears at the very sight of him. He was so happy to see us, and had no idea what had happened. His innocence was uplifting because for that short period that he visited, I could focus on my little boy bouncing on the bed and his cherubic smile. Telling us about the Wiggles concert he went to, and how he shook hands with Murray! True story, that.
In the days and weeks that followed, Jack was my reason for getting out of bed. He was my guiding light. Granted, sometimes I wanted to curl up in a ball and ignore the world. But for the most part, he gave me a focus and he kept me going. For this I am grateful. I am grateful to Jack. He was my strength.

I found myself fearless about most things after Sybella's death. I thought "the worst has happened to me. What else can happen that is worse than this?" The answer to that, of course, was something happening to Jack. For a time after Sybella died, I found myself checking Jack in his sleep, to make sure he was breathing. One night, he was in between breaths and I panicked, sat up and took his pulse. I kept him in our bed because I needed him in there...to make sure he was okay through the night. I amped up the swimming lessons so that he had increased swimming skills...my mind had gone back to Boxing Day 2009, while on holidays, he fell in the hotel pool. What if I'd lost him then? And then Sybella?

I dont think I could survive that.

My rationale was the opposite of many others. Most people I know live by "it wont happen to me." I live by "if it will happen to anyone, it will happen to me." I am the one who broke her back in a car accident. Luckily it was a minor fracture and it healed perfectly with no problems. I am the one who had a baby that was breech (and only 2% of babies are). I am the one who had a stillbirth.

I have pre-existing anxiety, so I am aware that many of my fears are perceived threats, not actual ones. But I still went out of my way to make sure Jack was safe at all times. I made sure he had someone to play with before I left him at Kindy. I went outside too if he went outside to play.

I began to appreciate him so much more. Of course, I always had appreciated him. I guess it became that much more an intense appreciation and gratitude. I started to relish in his physical beauty. I marvelled at his toes and fingers...they are my favourite part of him. I ached for him when he wasnt with me.

One of the most profound moments of love I had for him was the realisation that he was the main reason for wanting to have another baby. I want him to have a buddy. I want him to have a partner in crime. I cant wait to see those kids in action.

Mothering after loss is quite amazing. The "mama bear" comes out quite potently, because you know just how important your child's little life is and how responsible you are for their happiness and wellbeing. You are grateful for their life and presence. You feel they are extra special because they are yours. They help you keep seeing the wonderful things in life, when your days are otherwise crashing down around you. Their laugh will break through your pain, and their hugs will soften the grief.

I like to call these children "tinkerbells" because they bring light out of the darkness.

Bears of Hope Drive

2010-08-04T18:54:00.001+10:00

My 30th birthday is looming. On September 15th. I dont feel 30.
30 year olds are GROWN UPS. I still think passing wind is funny. Sorry about that.

Anyway, this year, the only thing I want is Sybella to be alive. Of course, that is not a gift that I will get. But there is nothing else I want, materially.

So, what I am asking my friends and family for, is to make a (tax deductible) donation to Bears of Hope in honour of Sybella. For every $25 raised, Bears of Hope will donate a teddy bear to a family that has been touched by miscarriage, stillbirth or neo-natal death. I have set up a fundraising drive at this web address:

http://bearsofhope.gofundraise.com.au/Sybella

All donations, big or small, are deeply appreciated. Feel free to visit the page, have a look, donate if you wish, and read about Bears of Hope and the wonderful work they do.

Pregnancy Loss Week Blog Carnival

2010-07-27T16:49:00.003+10:00

This post was written for inclusion in the Pregnancy Loss Week Blog Carnival. Please join us at Fertility Flower for the week of August 23-27, 2010 where we will be featuring articles, posts and artwork about pregnancy loss.

Mommy's Promise
By Cassandra Wright Fields

It broke my heart when you couldn't stay
Because I felt your presence right away
And my womb swelled with pride and joy
For you were to join us and our little boy
I'd made plans for you and I
And dreamed of how time would fly by
Ever so gently your soul touched mine
There will be no heartbeat or picture and that's fine
Because you've left enough love behind
Though it pleased God to take you away
In my heart you will always stay
Bundled up safe and warm in Mommy's heart
When we are together again we will never part
....And dreamed how time would fly by
Though you were mere
I love you, Dear
Ever so gently your soul touched mine...

Trusting Instincts

2010-07-25T12:54:00.001+10:00

Before I had Sybella, I was an intensly perceptive person, but naive. I often had vibes and feelings about certain situations, people, or places, that could be either positive or negative. I never trusted the feelings and didnt have confidence in my perception skills. Especially the negative ones. A negative vibe that I experienced would produce feelings and thoughts from me that MY perception must be wrong. As a result, I perservered with relationships and jobs and situations that in actual fact, were not conducive to a peaceful and happy life. I did it because I thought if I tried hard enough, I would get something positive from the situation, despite the overbearing feelings of tension and discomfort.
Sybella has given me permission to give into my perception skills. She has shown me that in most cases, my instincts have been correct. Now I trust my positive and negative feelings in response to aspects of my life and I go in the direction that feels the most comfortable, easy and "right." It is quite liberating. I feel like I dont have to justify my reasons for refusing something (I know I am being general here, but there are so many different facets that I refer to, that it would take forever to explain them all) because I've already had the greatest challenge in the world handed to me, and I wont willingly accept any more. I dont want challenge, and I dont deserve it. I have seen the true colours in many aspects of my life. The good and the bad. Sybella has shown me what I should embrace and be thankful for, and what it is I need to let go of.

3 Months

2010-07-25T11:51:00.000+10:00

Yesterday, July 24th, marked 3 months since Sybella's birth and death.

3 months since my life stopped
3 months since I took a breath
3 months since my heart broke

3 months since I saw pure innocence

3 months of tears
3 months of anger
3 months of fear
3 months of guilt

3 months on a rollercoaster

3 months of love
3 months of being a mother of two

At Our Beach

2010-07-24T15:15:00.003+10:00

Here we are at our special beach. This was back in March. It was still warm, but the weather was cooling in the evenings. Despite this, Jack still ran into the water without thinking, and had a ball!

I was about 31 weeks pregnant with Sybella. You cant see me, but I can promise you, it was one of the last times I felt carefree and happy. Of course, I didnt know that my life was about to be changed forever in about three weeks time.
It was a lovely evening, probably about 5.00 or 5.30 and all was right with the world. I'd do anything to get back to that place in my life.