It’s Baby Loss Awareness Week. On Thursday 15th October 2020, it’s a special day to remember our babies we didn’t get to keep and raise awareness. I’ll either be taking the day off social media or muting some topics.
It’s vitally important that we raise awareness of baby and infant loss and miscarriage. Families that go through it need support and recognition of their short and long term pain. Everyone reacts differently when they’re supporting a friend of family member through loss. Each one of those reactions can help those grieving, but many of them can cause pain too. I can’t tell anyone how to react because every grieving family deals with loss differently, we all need different things.
For me, I remember it every day. I don’t need a special day and I don’t want to be pushed to remember at times when I’m keeping myself busy with other things. I remember on my own terms and that’s important to my mental health.
So, I’m going to write a bit about our situation, how I feel and then do my first ever scheduled blog post.
Baby boy3 should have been born in June 2019. Instead, he arrived on the last day of January, far too early to be healthy and four weeks too early to have a chance of survival. The pain of that day was so much worse than the previous two pregnancies that had ended too early for us. We will always love boy3 tenderly and with deep sadness that he couldn’t stay with us. How much fun we’d be having with a 15 month old terror if he’d been born at the right time. We miss him every day and there will always be a hole where he isn’t.
Before him, I’d had a missed miscarriage before 12 weeks between large boy and small boy and then a disastrous pregnancy with an errant coil almost 4 years ago. Both of those were heart breaking too, with very difficult decisions. Not least because my body has never once laboured naturally in 5 pregnancies, it just doesn’t do that and so each time I’ve needed lots of medical intervention all the way to general anaesthetic for the miscarriages and C sections for the boys’ births.
Part of the reason I find BLAW so hard is that it falls exactly on the anniversary of the week that we found out we were pregnant with boy3, now 2 years ago. Last year, I somehow didn’t notice but this year I knew the anniversary was coming up and when I realised it was BLAW coincided it was just magnified.
I’ll probably write something different next year, because grief evolves. We change and the way we feel about our loss changes with us and with time and distance.
Sometimes its raw and I want to scream in frustration and anger.
Sometimes the pain of missing boy3 is sharp and I feel like my heart is going to rip open.
Sometimes it’s just a dull ache in the background.
We’ve come a long way in the last 18 months or more. Getting out of bed isn’t the wrench it was in those first few weeks. Seeing babies doesn’t break my heart anymore. Even holding my friends’ babies is OK. But looking at the 12 week scan of himself’s colleague was too much a couple of weeks ago.
We’re recovering, slowly but surely. But, for me, BLAW is just too much this year.