Pregnancy After Loss: Reflections From the Other Side

It's been nineteen weeks since my baby boy safely arrived into this world. Considering how slow the weeks went past during pregnancy, I was amazed to realise that he has now spent one third of his life on the outside with us! 38 weeks in, 19 weeks out. Wow. Not bad for a baby that I honestly didn't believe would spend any time with us...

The past nineteen weeks have been such a blessing. My little boy loves to give smiles and giggles, and just last week he laughed and laughed when I tickled under his chin. Melted my heart I tell you! Every smile from him is a stitch that is slowly mending my broken heart. I know an Ariella-shaped scar will always be there, but I cannot deny the healing my son has brought.

And it is only as I heal that I realise just how broken I was. Last year, I thought I was doing ok. Friends would ask me how I was going, and my answer would be "I'm ok". I truly thought I was, certainly not "great" or even "good" - but I thought I was ok. Now I realise that I wasn't. I look back at photos and can't help but notice the glazed look on my face and bags under my eyes. I guess that's what happens when you wake up every hour (maybe more) overnight from anxiety. I was so on edge, all the time.

But not anymore.


Now that I'm on the other side, with a baby in my arms instead of my belly. And I thought I'd share some reflections with you.

Firstly, I wish I could have found more joy in being pregnant. I did my best - taking monthly bump photos just like I did with Ariella and trying to enjoy the kicks. But it was hard. And unless you've been through it, I really don't think you can understand. If there was a harder kick than normal, I immediately wondered if that was a good-bye kick. Because Ariella's last movement was harder than the rest. I would buy an outfit in a burst of confidence that he would live, and then have to put it away because I didn't want to see it. 

I want to say that I wish I had worried less, but I know that's ridiculous. I couldn't not worry! And it was so constant...there was no break from the worry because I could not know that Levi was safe all the time. I still worry about him at times, but at least now I can always check on him. And I do. All.the.time! He's going to roll his eyes at me when he's older, I just know it! But I don't care. He's my son and I'll worry all I want :P

My final thought is less of a reflection and more of an encouragement to those pregnant after loss: it's ok. However you feel, it's ok. It's ok to be frustrated at little feet that just will not get out of your rib cage. It's ok to be both hopeful and fearful. It's ok not to put the car seat in the car until the day your baby is born (just make sure you have one ready). But most of all, it's ok to fall in madly in love with your sweet baby growing inside of you. Let yourself dream. Let yourself hope. It's ok.

All photos from the incredibly lovely and oh so talented Karen Pfeiffer.

If I Could Go Back

If I could go back...

Would I say one more 'I love you'?

Would I give her one more kiss?

Would I give her an extra cuddle or maybe sing an extra song?

I couldn't sing an extra song, she is the song I sing. 

I couldn't give an extra cuddle, she's held within my heart.

There wouldn't be an extra kiss, I kissed her all I could. 

There would not be one more 'I love you' because I live that every day. 

Easter Without My Baby

Sometimes I fight with myself about whether I should write about a particular issue or not. I had talked myself out of writing about Easter without my baby, until I read my friend's post about her broken Easter. Her honesty inspired me to be honest too, so here it goes...

This Easter sucked.
Big time.

And I feel like a bad Christian for even thinking it, yet alone saying it.

Easter is a time when Christians focus on the death and resurrection of Jesus. It's always there in the back of our minds, songs and sermons, after all, it's the event our faith is based on, but at Easter it becomes front and centre. Rightly so! I think it is wonderful that it makes us think more purposefully about such an important event. Last year, all I could focus on at Easter was Mary and how she had to watch her firstborn die. This year, my focus could not get away from the little sayings people use:

The day death died.

O death, where is your sting?

Death has been defeated.

Etc, etc.

I know that people have been using little phrases like that since, well, probably forever. And one of those sayings is a Bible verse, so I'm not against them entirely. But this Easter, it didn't seem to me that "death had died" or that death was in any way defeated. Because on the way to church on Sunday, we stopped in at the cemetery where my firstborn is buried. That is where death's sting is.

Death to me is not dead.

I see it when I look at my daughter's photos - the only photos I will ever have of her.

I am reminded of it when I look in my car's back seat and see only one car seat, not two.

I feel its power when the ache in my heart comes out in my tears.

Death to me is not defeated.

The Christian faith is about more than little statements or catchy phrases we use to summerise the most significant event in history. I know that. And I do believe that one day I will see Ariella in Heaven, alive. I believe that one day there will not be any death, pain or suffering. But right now there is. And as a result, Easter without my baby was just too hard.

Someone Remembered Her

I was up late a few nights ago and it got me thinking...

It's late. My son is sleeping peacefully in his cot and my husband is asleep beside me. The late hour means that is dark, and something about the darkness and being the sole person awake makes me feel reflective. I feel like I should be sad that my daughter died, normally that is how I feel. But I cannot feel that sadness because today is different.

Today, someone remembered her.

Today, someone bought me an Easter egg for each of my babies; one blue, one pink. Of course, neither baby is able to eat their egg. That job falls to me and my husband (what a shame). But that doesn't matter. What matters is that someone not only remembered, but also included, Ariella today. 

Because of that simple gesture today, I can sleep peacefully tonight. Because of that pink Easter egg, I'm going to sleep with a smile on my face. 

TGP: Mums group in the park

Today I'm grateful for the mum's group I went to this morning. We met in the park next to this (mostly dry) creek. Not a great photo to represent this, but I only thought to take a photo after putting Levi in the car, so my options were limited! A friend invited me along last week and I felt very welcomed into the group. Today was my second time attending, and it was an interesting morning! My poor son was not very happy as he didn't get enough sleep for his morning nap. This led to him crying for a large chunk of the morning, which always is a struggle for me. I know it's not logical, but this is what goes through my mind when Levi is really upset:

Nothing I can do is making him happy or calm. I am failing my son. Failure. I failed Ariella. I couldn't keep her alive.

And then I cry. It's a battle to stay composed, especially in front of a group of people; I didn't want to cry and look silly. But as the tears began to fall, they were met with offers of help, words of encouragement, prayer and a hug. I didn't feel silly for crying, I felt normal. It's hard to know how many of my struggles are because Ariella died and what is "normal" for any parent. I think that most of the time, it is both. But today, I actually felt normal. That doesn't happen all that often. 

So ladies, I doubt that many of you will see this. But for those who do - I am very grateful for all of you. Thank you for your help, patience and encouragement this morning, it meant more than you will ever know.