Two...

It's hard to believe that it's been two years since we said hello and goodbye to our beautiful Ariella Jade. Last year, we organised a "birthday week" for her so that people could celebrate her life with us. I had planned to do the same this year, but it was too hard to think about so I never got around to it. However, some people have asked how best to support us and there were a few things last year that were really special. So I've put together a couple of things you may like to do if you want to celebrate her with us.

If you choose to celebrate with us, please let us know.

-Take a photo and share it with us via Facebook or Instagram using the hashtag #celebratingariellajade 

-Send a message telling us what you have done in her memory

-Leave a comment on this post 

Obviously there is no pressure to donate in her memory, so please don't feel like you must. This year, Marcus and I will be donating a bear through Pregnancy Loss Australia - these teddy bears are given to parents at the hospital so that they do not have to leave with completely empty arms. The tag on the bear says who it is donated in memory of - the bear we have is in memory of Lily and it was a comfort to hold it straight after the ultrasounds that showed Ariella had died. I always wonder who Lily was and I'm so grateful for the person who donated the bear in her memory. It's $20 to donate and it can be done on their website.

Thank you for those who have already messaged and supported us in the lead up to her special days. We appreciate every single message and card and we are so thankful that our girl is not forgotten. 

Isolation

Yesterday I heard a friend describe baby loss as an isolating event. I hadn't thought about it on that way before, but it really is an excellent way to describe what happens when a baby dies. No one else understands exactly how you feel; other loss parents will understand to a degree, but you are the only one who has experienced your story. When friends and family don't mention Ariella, or say something to imply Levi is my only baby, the isolation strikes. It strikes again when I'm sitting with a group of mums discussing labour and birth. Because it's a hard decision whether or not to mention my daughter's birth - will it be met with awkwardness or acceptance? Or perhaps it will invoke pity, I think that's the worst of all. Feeling alone in a group, being the "quiet mum" in most situations, this is the isolation that baby loss brings. 

And then there are days like yesterday, International Pregnancy and Infant loss Awareness Day. My Facebook newsfeed was filled with candles lit for my girl and other babies, photos of precious childen gone too soon, and awareness raising images. The ones that touched me the most were the images shared by friends who haven't experienced their own loss. It truly felt that bereaved and non-bereaved parents were in this together. Side by side. No isolation to be found. And it was wonderful. 

In memory of Ariella Jade and all babies gone too soon. 

In and Out

Today marks the day when Levi has been out as long as he was in!

38 weeks in: 

I was tired from pregnancy and exhausted from constantly being anxious. Levi was quite wriggly, having gone from head down, to breech, then tranverse and back again within a matter of weeks.

38 weeks out:

I am no where near as tired as I was and so much less anxious. Levi is still very wriggly and I love watching him roll and crawl around our house (it's much better than when he rolled around inside!) I tell him so often how glad I am that he is alive and how much we love him. He's a very cheeky boy and is such a delight to us daily. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to watch him grow and he heals my heart a little bit more each day.

Too Close to Home

I haven't written much lately. It's been hard to find the time and my head hasn't been in the right space for writing lately. I felt like I was healing, that maybe I was getting better. 

And then July happened. 

July begins and ends with the anniversaries of the deaths of two friends. Two inspiring men of God, both gone too soon. But this July two more anniversaries were added, as friends lost their wife and mum and other friends lost their dad. Both deaths were unexpected and both left me reeling. Neither death seemed fair; they still don't. Two funerals within a week. I hope not to need to do that again. Ever. 

August hasn't been the best either, although for slightly more removed reasons. A friend messaged to say that a lady she knows lost twins recently. No one should lose a baby and no one should lose two. It's not fair and my heart breaks for her. 

An Australian actress revealed that her son was stillborn yesterday. As I read that news, so many emotions flooded my mind. I felt so sorry for her. The grief of stillbirth is unfathomable and she has to go through it in the public eye. I do hope she and her family get the privacy they have asked for. 

But since reading her heartbreaking news, I can't stop thinking about Ariella's stillbirth. I can't adequately describe the shock, heartbreak and devastation of those first days and what it feels like to walk out of the hospital without you baby in your arms. I have photos of my last moments with Ariella in the hospital, but I can't bring myself to look at them. The memory is hard enough, but as time has gone on it's as though the pain in that memory has dulled. When I look at those photos, I can't pretend the pain wasn't as bad as it actually was. I'm glad I have those photos, but I can't look at the photos of the worst moment of my life. It just hurts too much. 

I've been incredibly angry at God lately. I'm not exactly proud of that, but I have to be honest. There have been too many deaths too close to home, and in the words of a friend, Heaven seems too populated with those we love. It's like I've been pounding my fists on his chest and screaming WHY? But all of my pounding and screaming hasn't pushed God away. He's bigger than that. And instead of holding me at arms length as I scream, He's wrapped his arms around me when I collapse from exhaustion and whispered gently to me that Ariella's life has been fruitful and that it's ok to be mad. 

I have to believe that.

I just have to.

Because if I don't...I don't know what's left. Believing that gives me a sure hope that I will see my baby girl again. I'll see Geoff, Steve, Heather and Don again too. I don't normally write things like this, as I don't like seeming pushy, but all these sudden deaths lately has really reminded me that nothing in life is certain. Except Jesus. I am certain that because of Him I will go to Heaven and see my loved ones again. If you don't have that certainty, will you think about it? If you've ever thought I am strong, this is why. I'm not strong, but my God is. And He can be your God too. 

Eighteen Long Months

My dear Ariella,

It's been eighteen long months since you came and went. Or is it went and came? After all, you were gone before we met you. Sometimes I still can't quite believe that. How is it that your anniversary is before your birthday? It shouldn't be that way my sweet girl.

Eighteen long months since I first saw your beautiful face. It really was love at first sight - I couldn't believe that you had dark hair. Your daddy and I were blondies so I expected that for you too. But no, you decided to surprise us with dark brown hair. And no matter how many months pass, I don't think I will ever forget just how dainty your fingers were. They were so beautiful. I miss them.

Sweet girl, you have a baby brother now. He looked so much like you when he was born! Same dark hair (although that didn't surprise us) and the same little nose. Even now, I still look at him and think he looks so much like you. I wonder what you would look like now. Would you have stayed long and dainty, or would you have developed the same glorious chub that your brother has?

I don't know how Heaven works...I don't think you'll be able to read this, but I wonder if you can see me? Would you be proud of your mama? I hope so. It's been so hard without you but I'm doing my best. Your brother loves looking at your photos, although at this point he's probably just enjoying the way the light reflects on them! But one day he will know who you are and how special you are.

Precious Ariella, eighteen months ago today was one of the best days of my life. I got to meet you. And that is a moment I will always treasure.

With love,

Your mama