My birthday wish

For the past little while, I've been dreading my birthday (and Christmas, but that's a story for a different time). My birthday is November 10, a little under a month away. Just the thought of a significant day without my baby girl was enough to make me get teary, and part of me just wanted to ignore the day altogether.

But then I had a thought - why not let this birthday make a difference?

One of my most treasured possessions are the photographs of Ariella that were taken by a Heartfelt photographer, Karen. If you haven't heard of Heartfelt, they organise for professional photographers to come take photographs of babies who are stillborn or premature, and children with serious or terminal illnesses. The incredible thing is that this service is free. Absolutely free. We received over 70 photos on a disc, and around 20 professionally printed. Karen, if you're reading this, thank you.

Photos are such a precious thing to bereaved parents, because in one sense, they are all we have left of our babies. I love being able to flick through Ariella's album, and know that I will never have to worry about forgetting what she looked like or having that memory fade.

The problem is that sometimes it is impossible for a Heartfelt photographer to respond to a request. All the photographers are volunteers, and while they frequently go out of their way to make it to hospitals or homes, sometimes it just cannot be done. Many hospitals do have a camera, so parents can at least get one photo of their precious bub. However, many of these cameras aren't all that great, leaving parents with grainy, fuzzy photos as their only images.

Heartfelt have begun putting together Camera Kits to donate to hospitals that are in need of a better camera. Each kit contains:
*Quality compact camera (engraved) chosen for its ability to work in low light situations and to work closeup
*A compact printer that can be taken into the room so families can be given a print straight away
*Paper and ink supplies
*Camera case
*An inservice from an experienced Heartfelt member

From Hearfelt's website

I want to make this birthday count. How often do we give or receive presents that, while nice, go unused after a while? There has to be a better way. Since I am somewhat dreading this birthday, I wanted to do something to make the day seem worthwhile. And that's when I decided what my birthday wish is this year:

My birthday wish is to raise enough money to donate a camera kit to a hospital in need.

The total cost of a kit is currently $860. It's a lot of money, I know. I have no idea if I will be able to raise enough, but I want to try. Please be assured that even if the total is not reached, the money will still be going to Heartfelt and will contribute to a camera kit.

If you were thinking of buying me a present, would you please put the money towards this instead? If you wanted to buy me a card, please consider donating that $5 to this cause instead. If you had been thinking about donating to an organisation in memory of Ariella, please donate to this cause.

You can donate by going to the mycause fundraising page I have set up by clicking here. The money donated via this site gets sent to Heartfelt monthly, clearly labelled so that Heartfelt know what project the money is for. You can donate on this site using PayPal or a credit card. If you have any troubles, please just send me a note (on my Facebook page or email to loveisdeeperstill AT gmail.com) and I can work something out for you.

I don't know what hospital will receive the kit, and I like that. When Karen donated her time to come to the hospital, take photos and then edit them, she was doing something incredibly kind for people that she didn't know. I like the idea of giving a camera kit to whatever hospital needs it most, whether I have a connection to that place or not.

I know it's a big goal. Maybe it will have to be my "birthday and Christmas wish". I guess we'll see.

**UPDATE - I'm already blown away by donations. The new aim is two camera kits. No matter how much is raised, it will all go to Heartfelt**

**UPDATE TWO - Apparently the PayPal option isn't appearing on the mycause site. If you want to use PayPal, please send me an email (address is further up in this post) and I will reply with my personal PayPal address. Then I will send  that money to Heartfelt on your behalf. Sorry for any inconvenience! **

Capture Your Grief: Days 1-5

DAY ONE: SUNRISE

I took this photo at 6:50am, so I did miss the actual sunrise. However, I love that I missed it, as I had actually slept well that night and didn't wake up in time! Given that I haven't been sleeping well lately, I was more than happy to sacrifice a sunrise photo for a good sleep.

DAY TWO: IDENTITY

Ariella: lioness of God.
Jade: precious gem; my own middle name.
Born: Wednesday, January 30, 2013, at 9am after around 20 hours of labour.
Weight: 3125g (6lb 14oz)
Length: 54cm (21.25in)
Features: deep blue eyes; brown wavy hair; long fingers and toes.
Our much loved daughter.

DAY THREE: MYTH

While I have never heard the exact statement in the photo, I have heard similar sentiments. They hurt to hear and they aren't true. A subsequent pregnancy does not take away the sadness of our daughter's death. We rejoice over this baby while still grieving the death of our first. This baby will never replace Ariella. If your spouse died, I doubt you would like people telling you "you can always remarry, and then you'll be happy." The same goes for a subsequent pregnancy. I wrote a poem based on this photo, which can be found here.

DAY FOUR: LEGACY

I wasn't sure what photo to take for this day.What is my daughter's legacy? Does she have one? I thought about the friendships that have developed since Ariella's death, but I didn't have any photos with those lovely ladies. And then I thought about this blog. I write to honour her memory. In particular, I thought of my A-Z guide on helping bereaved parents. This is her legacy. It's by far my most read, shared and pinned post and I am grateful. I feel very passionate about teaching people know how best to help grieving parents, because it's such an important topic.

DAY FIVE: MEMORY 

I have so many memories from pregnancy and the days we spent with Ariella. One of my favourites happened frequently. Ariella would make my bump move all directions at once. Even though I knew how she was positioned, sometime I couldn't figure out how she was managing to move opposite parts of the bump. I used to say that we were clearly going to have a starfish for a child, as no ordinary baby could reach all the spots she could. When she was born, she seemed long. Once measured, we discovered she was 54cm long (about 4cm longer than average). Suddenly her movements made sense. Ariella will always be my starfish baby.

______________________________

It'll be a bit quiet on this blog as of tomorrow, because I will be away for a week long holiday! Ahh, I feel relaxed just thinking about it. A week away with my hubby, visiting a dear friend and catching up with some family. Life will get a whole lot busier on our return, thanks to a change in hubby's job, so this holiday has perfect timing. I'll be posting my daily photos on my Facebook page if you want to keep up to date with them. Otherwise, I'll blog about them on my return.

Bon voyage!

Please remember

Please remember,
I love my daughter,
I'll always miss her.

Please remember,
The "old me" is not going to come back,
My daughter's life and death have changed me.

Please remember,
You don't have to fix me,
I am at peace with missing my daughter.

Please remember,
Mentioning Ariella's name is not going to upset me,
It's going to make me smile that you acknowledge her.

Please remember,
How much you take pride in your children,
I am no different to you.

Please remember,
A subsequent pregnancy does not take away the sadness of our daughter's death,
We rejoice over this baby while still grieving the death of our first.

Please remember,
This baby is not going to "fix" us,
We will always be aware of what we missed with our first baby.

Please remember,
I am not going to get over our daughter's death,
I will get through it, but I'll always miss her because I will always love her.

Please. Remember.

Day 3 of Capture Your Grief: Myths

Hope in the darkness

I live near a park, so it's common to hear birds chirping away throughout the day. I hear them first thing in the morning, and it can be so lovely to open the doors or windows and hear them as I go about my day. But last night, they were chirping as I went to sleep. Since when do bird chirp (continuously) at 11, 11:30 at night? It was very strange, but it made me smile. The birds sounded so cheerful, even in the pitch black of night.

And that made me realise something:

Day 1 of Capture Your Grief: Sunrise.

Some days feel like the night; they seem dark and you just want to sleep through them. And I have to confess, yesterday was one of those days. I couldn't think of why, as it wasn't a significant date. A friend suggested that maybe it's due to the emotions that doing the Capture Your Grief challenge is bringing to the surface. I think she might be right. For whatever reason, yesterday was a dark day.

But just as the birds were singing in the darkness, there was hope in yesterday's darkness. A friendly older man to chat to while waiting in a line. An overseas friend who "happened" to not be able to sleep and was therefore awake when I needed to talk through some things. Another friend with good news to help me look beyond myself. Winning a fuel voucher. A cute maternity top for only $9. An email that I think contained some incredibly exciting news (although I'm just waiting for confirmation before I know for sure). A night spent with some wonderful friends. Knowing my husband would have today off work. Knowing it's just a few more days before a week long holiday.

Some days seem pretty dark. Yet there is always hope.

I shouldn't

Life is not how I imagined it would be.

I shouldn't have the luxury of resting in bed, trying to fight off a cold that hasn't yet made up its mind whether it will stay or not. I should be up, looking after an eight month old. But I'm not.

I shouldn't dread meeting new people, in case they ask if this pregnancy is my first. I shouldn't feel awkward when answering truthfully, but then again, people shouldn't back away when I tell them about Ariella.

I shouldn't be uncomfortable at larger gatherings, but people's silence regarding Ariella is deafening.

I shouldn't be planning how to capture my grief when on holidays for a week; I should be excitedly looking forward to introducing Ariella to a great friend of ours. But I'm not.

I shouldn't have to go to the cemetery to visit our girl. But I do.

Eight months on and I miss her more than ever.

Life shouldn't be so hard. But it is.