5 things that helped me heal

I have not written in a long while for many reasons. I have decided that I will share one last love letter on this blog in the coming weeks and will probably write more about the quilt in the near future. The need to write comes and goes as usual, but today I feel that perhaps it might be useful to share some things that have helped me personally. I would love to hear what has helped you! 


1. I got support 

I think most of us as human beings are able to feel some sadness and empathy when we hear about baby loss, I know I did before I experienced it for myself. But once I went through my own experience, I understood what it was like on a whole other level. An experience like this rewires a person in a way that I cannot describe adequately with words. 

At the perfect moment when I was so lost in my grief, a friend linked me up with a parenting group online and through that group, I found others who had been through similar loss experiences. When the pain was so raw and unbearable as it was for me in the very early days, these ladies understood.

Finding other mums who had experienced the pain I had gone through and lived to heal gave me so much hope. Through my journey with them they have shared their own stories, offered comfort, wisdom and an unconditional love that continues to humble me on a daily basis.

Online support worked the best for me. I read factual websites, I devoured blogs, I found organisations that have an online presence. There is so much support, understanding and wisdom on the internet, not to mention the convenience factor. Being able to sit at my computer in my pajamas at an ungodly hour of the morning or night, whenever I needed something is completely unbeatable.


2. I poured all my love into something I loved doing

 There was so much love in my heart for my baby when I was pregnant (and there still is). At times I literally felt that it was too much to contain, so I needed to channel it all into something. What that expression is will differ for everyone. For me, I have always expressed myself with art. So it was natural that I reached for my quilting.

All the quilts I've made have been given away to others, only because I love giving more than keeping. But this time, this quilt was all about my baby and it would be for us to keep and treasure. Quilting, like any other creative process is for me about the making as much as it was about the final product. A lot of thought goes into every aspect of the quilt, the colours, the design, the layout, the meanings I want to convey. Each element tells it's own story and so the final product as a whole is very meaningful. Pip's quilt is still in progress, hindered somewhat for the time being by an upcoming international move. But I am quite happy to take my time with this quilt, making sure that every piece is exactly as I want it.

I have seen beautiful and haunting works of art by other parents who have loved and lost. Paintings, art journal entries, websites, poems, books, figurines, jewellery, memorial gardens...whatever it is that helps your heart heal the most. I think the most important thing is to create something that is perfect for you. Something or some way that helps you feel at peace. (And sometimes, peace is not felt until a ways into the project), so keep going for a while and see if it's making a difference for you.


3. I talk - if it helps

This one I've struggled a little bit with in a few different ways. Pregnancy loss is something that is still not widely spoken about, but yet is so common. Often it's not talked about because other people do not know how to react. I find it ironic that when one is hurting so deeply from this loss, suddenly you can find yourself protecting yourself from how they might feel about your loss.

People prefer to hear about happy and wonderful things, not sad and horrible losses. It really, really hurts when others do not understand and think that they are helping in terribly thoughtless ways. Their hearts may be in the right place, but the damage caused can be serious and long lasting. It's always a risk to share something that is so private and you do have to be prepared for reactions that may not be caring or supportive in the way you need. So I do get that talking simply isn't an option for a lot of people and completely respect that.

On the flip side, when the person you talk to does get it, it can be an incredibly healing experience. My miscarriage is not a secret. My choice after careful consideration was to be open about it. I have shared my story with many people who have sometimes surprisingly related stories of their own losses that I had no idea about. Regardless of personal experience or not, the genuine comfort and compassion offered by people who are supportive has been so valuable to me.

Blogging about it is another way I talk about it too. I guess in a way, I'm having an open conversation with the visitors to this site. One thing to keep in mind though is that blog posts in general are referring to moments in time. Posts do not necessarily reflect the entire reality of the blogger. For example, 95% of the posts on this blog are somewhat sad in nature. Those posts only reflect a moment in time. In that moment, yes I am sad. That is why I am writing. But what the reader does not see is that I feel better after posting and  go on to have other happy moments that I may not necessarily express on the blog.

Other blogger friends have mentioned that sometimes it's very easy for readers to think that the  blogger may be chronically depressed because of the nature of the content. I would say that the sum of blog posts (on my blog at least), does not equal the full equation. Among plenty of other things, there are private experiences my husband and I have had that we haven't shared which are loving, happy and encouraging. I talk about things if it helps me and I have noticed myself becoming increasingly selective about what it is I do share. So that is why I would listen to your heart /gut / instincts and be selective. Talk only if it helps.


4. I Remember often

At the start, it is all you can think about. But with time, slowly life will creep in again and giving yourself permission to keep living is something that is healthy and natural. I've found that doing little things to remember every now and then has really helped me to heal. I have found comfort in the little things that make me think of my baby. Angel figurines, custom made christmas ornaments, candles, cards...the list goes on. It brings me comfort to surround myself with little reminders of my baby. I know for others this only brings distress, so this again is a really  personal thing.

Sometimes I do something along with remembering, such as buying flowers, lighting a candle and saying a prayer. Other times I just remember my baby in my thoughts. Sometimes what I see in the world around me reminds me of my baby. At first those times were very difficult. It seemed like the whole world was pregnant except me. It seemed like everywhere I looked, there were healthy, happy babies, except for mine. It broke my heart (and still does) at the unfairness of it all to hear of families who hurt, abuse and mistreat their beautiful children where there should have been love and protection. What other people had became a painful reminder of what I had lost.

Now I can look at other pregnant mothers on the street and say a silent prayer for their health and wellbeing. Yes remembering can be painful, but for me not remembering would have been even more painful. My baby was a tiny little person. I'm more spiritual than religious and I do believe that it wasn't just a divine coincidence that my girl ended up with us. Her little life had a reason and a purpose. Remembering her helps me feel more at peace.


5. Hope: I believe that it can and will get better

Hope is my belief that there can and will be something better that can come out of all of this. That is not to say that there was nothing good in what has happened - even despite all the pain, suffering and heartbreak, I would never say that having my baby for the short time she was with us was a bad thing. I was so blessed to love and carry my baby for as long as I was able to carry her. It is not to say that "trying again" will erase her or replace her like she was some mistake. She could never be a mistake to me. I am not too keen on much of the linguistics surrounding conception, pregnancy and baby loss for many reasons, but I digress...

Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope for peace. Hope that my baby is somewhere where she is happy, healthy and safe. What has happened will always be a part of me for sure. Yes I have healed to a degree, but this loss will always be a part of my life, a part of my heart and a part of who our family is.

All the clichés about time being a great healer has been true for me. It gets easier with time to accept and integrate this loss into my heart. But healing is also a choice. A very painful choice for sure. The pain sometimes serves as a reminder that it all did really happen, especially when there is nothing tangible to show for your pregnancy. No ultrasound pictures, no memories of the sound of a heartbeat. Perhaps only a positive pregnancy test stick.

At the start I was afraid that with time I would eventually forget my girl. I had such a short time with her that I felt I had to memorise every second so that I would remember her forever. From my own experience I can truthfully say that while that fear is valid, one piece of comfort I can offer is this. A mother's heart never forgets. Never, ever, not in a million years. Some details may fade, but always the love remains.

Try it in little doses at the start. Allowing yourself to heal is something no one but you can do. With that healing comes hope that tomorrow can and will be good.  

Angry yet grateful

Today I am a mixed bag of emotions. I've spent most of today quietly working on a quilt which is to be someone's Christmas present and I am trying to decide what the hell I'm feeling. 

I feel a bit guilty that I've put Pip's quilt aside this time of year to work on other Christmas presents. I've finished making most of the stuff I've wanted to make for the crafty secret santa exchange. But then I was suddenly inspired to start making this (double bed sized) quilt in October and now I'm on a race against time to finish it before Christmas! Am I crazy? Yes I probably am. 

I have been feeling a bit out of sorts, so when I feel a bit out of sorts, I withdraw, find some personal space and see where I end up. Usually I find myself in the company of my other baby loss mama's at their blogs. I read their words and cry with them. It's not fair that a child should die so soon.

Then I get angry when I read about these beautiful mothers struggling through milestones like thanksgivings, christmas' and birthdays. I am really not looking forward to the 23rd of March 2012, the day I should have been anticipating with great delight and anticipation because it was Pip's estimated due date. Would she have been an early baby or would she have been late like her mummy? 

My heart aches when I hear about other pregnant couples we are friends with preparing for the arrival of their little ones. Nurseries being decorated, shopping for baby things, pregnancy cravings, aches and pains and the most difficult of all to cope with - pictures of scans with happy healthy babies. I have happy sad moments when I see those scans. So happy and grateful that this little person is growing healthy and strong, but so very sad that my little person did not reach that milestone.

I get angry when I see these beautiful cakes, works of art that my beautiful grieving mothers have made in the memory of their children. There should be parties, off-key Happy-birthday- to-you's and presents. Instead there is only emptiness, tears and heartbreak. I don't think I'd be strong enough to bake Pip a cake on the 23rd of March. I'd probably end up throwing it at a wall if I didn't ruin it by crying a river into it first during the baking process. 

I love seeing how my angel mummy friends remember their children everyday and especially at Christmas. I love the photos of all the intricate and beautiful ornaments they have chosen so carefully, special colours, special inscriptions, special designs, some especially ordered and handcrafted to hang on the tree. Friends from near and far reaching out to each other offering special words of comfort, letters, cards and extra shoulders to lean on. 

Then I am so angry that I used to love going Christmas shopping. Now I walk into store after store drawn to the ornaments like an obsessed woman and instead of finding one for my baby with excitement, I'm looking for one with great sadness. An angel to sit on my tree. An angel for my baby who should be here with me. 

I have my angry at the world moments, of course. I see beautiful families and adorable children wanting their parents' attention. For God's sake, pick your child up and give them a cuddle, tell them they are precious, beautiful and loved. Instead I see tired parents yell at their equally tired children for wasting their time. One mother I saw swooped down on her son and smacked him like I've never seen a parent smack a child before. 

Ah christmas...a time for joy and cheer.

I sit at my desk and make things for my friends to show them that their children are never forgotten, always in the hearts of those who remember. And there are tears, always more tears. But also great joy at having found another heart out there that understands, other mothers, women and friends who have been where I am and somehow have found the strength to continue on. 

And then I am flooded with gratitude for the amazing friends the child I never met has brought me in touch with. My wish is that no one, no mother, no father, no family should ever, ever have to live with the pain of their baby dying. Whether this be by pregnancy loss, stillbirth, miscarriage, or whatever other heartbreaking option there is available out there. I really wish it didn't exist at all. But while that may happen someday, in my world today there are too many people who have felt this pain. And so there are the baby loss groups, secret groups on facebook and the internet with those who have walked this path before. 

Then the pain becomes a little easier to bear and my heart is filled with gratitude. It would have been wonderful to have been friends with each and every one of these people in another "normal" way. But I am grateful to be going through this journey alongside them.

Today is a happy-sad day. It's an angry at the world, yet grateful for what I have day. A very mixed up day indeed.

More fabric love and transfers

My mother-in-law popped in to see me over the weekend and brought some fabric love for Pip's quilt. I love the pink fabric with it's design of the trees and leaves and the gorgeous baby aqua blue. There is also a pack of angel transfers because I told her that I haven't been able to find any fabric with angels on it yet that I could add to the quilt, so she got these in case I wanted to add to the embroidery on the quilt. Hmm...ideas ideas! 

I'm not sure where I'll use it yet. Still haven't settled on a design for the shooting star block, but I'm sure it will make an appearance somewhere. Have I mentioned how much I love that pink? Thank you Liz, (best mother-in-law ever).

Our first Post-Pip Christmas

Every story has a beginning and an ending. Most stories usually have one significant event that changes the course of the lives of all affected by it, or many little events that make up the story itself. Whatever the story, I think that most stories also have a "pre" and a "post" and so it is that our story of Pip has a pre and a post to it also.

I've always loved Christmas. There really is no two ways about that, Christmas has always been an event in our household ever since we were married. It's a time when our family comes together, or while we were living overseas, it was a time we spent with close friends usually alongside a Christmas feast which takes almost ten times as long to cook and prepare as it takes to eat it all. We love our presents, not for what is contained in the gifts themselves, but mainly for the fun of going out and picking or making something that will give the other person joy, a laugh or two and something they may even treasure for a while.

All of the above is of course Pre-Pip.

I remember hoping last year when we'd first started trying for a baby that I would have some lovely news to share at Christmas time. What could be a better gift than knowing that a beautiful little person is growing inside you and will soon join your family? December 2010 came and went without that news I was hoping for, but despite the disappointment we had a great time together as a family and I took it in stride. 

So when I found out that we were pregnant in July this year, I was so excited about what this Christmas would be like with our little one this time. If everything has gone well, I'd be around about 5 months pregnant at Christmas time. It would also have been around the time when our baby would have started to move, dance and kick in the womb. I couldn't wait to feel that for myself and I know my family would have fawned over every little thing with this baby. 

In a Post-Pip world, Christmas will come and go as usual. There will be the usual Christmas feast with the usual suspects. But there will be one little person missing from the picture. I don't think Christmas will ever be the same again for me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not looking forward to Christmas. At all. Where before there was a feeling of excitement and anticipation, now there only seems to be an empty bleakness.

Loosing Pip was like being hit by the grief and loss freight train. Most days I'm surprised that I have barely survived. At first there is nothing but numbness. Then comes the incredible pain which is all consuming. Then slowly by slowly I've started to learn how to take that pain and live with it. Now I feel like I'm getting ready to start doing all the things I've done normally before, only knowing that life will never be the same again. This is my new normal.

And so as Christmas rolls around this year, somehow quite by accident I've just realised that I'm part of 4 different Secret Santa's. One for work, one with a bunch of my special girlfriends and the other two are for two separate baby loss networks I'm a part of. The handmade holiday gift exchange with the girls at Grieve out Loud (GOL) and the other is a baby loss mama's group on facebook.

The handmade holiday gift exchange appeals to me because it's handmade. These past few months have had the recurring theme of handmade. Pre-Pip I'd lost my connection with handmade, but Post-Pip I've slowly started to rediscover that connection and how much I truly love making things with my hands. 

Now I'm both excited and scared about what I will be making to exchange which I joined at the last minute by the grace of my lovely penpal at GOL. But therein lies the miracle. Where before I wasn't looking forward to any part of Christmas, now there is a little glimmer of hope and something different. Maybe Christmas will never be the same again, but maybe like my new normal, it may just take a little bit of getting used to.

Thank goodness

For good friends and wonderful family. I don't know what I would do without you all.

So many people have gone out of their way to reach out to us and it has truly made a huge difference to know that I am not as alone as I feel sometimes.
 
It sounds a bit trite and like a cliché, but it's really the little things that make a difference. Everything, from messages of love and hope, to helping us with work around our house and even to the quiet word games on my phone that have kept my mind busy, all of those have helped to keep us going. Every little or big hug, every kind word and every quiet "how are you?" is a blessing.

Thank you all for reaching out to us from the bottom of our hearts, it has really meant the world in this awful time.

Why and How

Why blog this?

I am a very private person. So the decision for me to blog this journey out here in the world wide web was not an easy one to make. I decided to keep this blog for several reasons:

1. I want a record of the story of Pip's quilt.
   I usually keep a private journal, but this way it's easier to share how the quilt is going with family and friends and people can choose to visit whenever they feel like for an update, as opposed to me bombarding them with updates that they may not want.


2. Between the time of our second scan and while I was waiting for my natural miscarriage to occur, I tried to research what I could expect to happen. I found a lot of resources for D&C's and miscarriages, or as it's known in medical terms, "natural abortions". However, these were mostly factual documents, and while they are important and helpful, I wanted to hear from other women, couples and families who had experienced this themselves. I had a good idea of what might happen clinically, but I wanted to know more than that. So my hope is that by telling my story and what happened for us, it may help others out there who like me are looking for something more.
   
   
3. This is my way of talking about the hopes and dreams we had for our baby. Most parents love talking about their children, as parents-to-be,even though we were only just newly expectant parents, we had our own hopes and dreams for our family. Every piece of this quilt has a meaning and in that meaning, is a reflection of our love for our baby girl.


4. Why did you call this blog "Heart's Piece"?
   Well, truth be told, "Heart's peace" was already taken. But then that's a really good thing that it was, because I think this name reflects the true identity of this blog a lot clearer. This blog is ultimately about my journey to healing, which I mostly envision will be through the making of Pip's quilt. So like a quilt, every little piece of fabric matters and is usually carefully picked to complement the finished product as a whole. Every little blog post (some are nice posts, others are downright ugly), or every little piece will be one piece closer towards completing the picture of my journey to healing.

How do I behave around someone who has had a miscarriage?

Most people mean well. But sometimes people just don't know what to say or how to behave. I thought it may be helpful to share a couple of comments on this from our own experience.

• Please don't call my baby "it"
  Even though it was too early to tell, using the medical technology we have today, whether our baby was a boy or a girl, in our hearts, we had no doubt that Pip was a girl. My mother strongly believes Pip was a boy, but my husband and I both felt very strongly that she was a girl right from the start. I don't know how we knew, but we just had "a feeling". We gave her the nickname Pip because when my pregnancy was confirmed with a bloodtest, she was the size of an apple pip. Our baby wasn't a "thing" that just happened to be inside me. She was a living, growing person. Until the day she stopped living and growing. Nothing is more insulting to her memory than to treat her like she was a non-entity. So please, don't call my baby "it".
  
  
• Don't tell me, "At least you know you can fall pregnant. You can always have another baby!"
  Actually, I don't know that. No one knows for sure. While there is no medical reason why we can't have a baby, plenty of couples in the world have difficulties conceiving when there is no known medical reason why they don't fall pregnant when they try. There is no guarantee that we will have another baby. When we were trying to conceive, all I wanted was a baby. Now that we have fallen pregnant and lost our baby, all I want is my baby back. The thing most people fail to understand is I don't just want any baby. I want my baby and I want her back. That is something that is never going to happen. So please understand that while I know this comment is coming from a space of love, with the intention to encourage, it often has the opposite effect and can be very hurtful.
  
  
• Do talk about my baby and ask questions
  I am happy to talk about my baby and about my experience to people whom I feel are being respectful. Yes, I know my baby no longer lives, but most of the people I have met who are experiencing a similar loss and who are grieving it are only too happy to talk about the little ones they have loved and lost. I don't know why (yet) we had this experience, but maybe by talking about our journey, we will find out why.
  
  
• When offering advice, please think if it's appropriate first
  While this sounds very obvious, we had a well meaning person enter our home and tell us how we could "get rid of it" by activating certain pressure points in the body. This person had also experienced miscarriages and while I am very sorry for that, I don't think they understood where our hearts were and what we needed at the time. I wanted to keep my baby with me for as long as I could have her. I understand that not everybody gets that. Waiting for a natural miscarriage to happen was my choice. What I did not need was someone offering advice that was inappropriate to us. So please think if what you're about to say is appropriate. If you're not sure, go with the safe option and keep it to yourself. 
  
  
• This poem says it better than I could, so please read it if you really want to know how...
  
  Somebody
  Somebody said it was all for the best; 
  That something was probably wrong.
  Somebody said it was meant to be.
  Different verse, same miserable song.
  
  Somebody said,"You can have another!"
  As if that would make it alright.
  Somebody said,"It was not a real child."
  Somebody's not very bright.
  
  Somebody thinks it is helpful
  To say when grieving should end.
  Somebody showed their true colors.
  Somebody isn't a friend.
  
  But somebody said,"I'm sorry"
  And sat quietly by my side.
  And somebody shared my sorrow
  And held my hand when I cried.
  
  And somebody always listened
  And called my lost baby by name.
  And somebody understood
  That I'd never again be the same.
  
  ~Gwen Flowers~
  
•  Links
  10 ways to support the person in your life who has just lost a baby
Another mum's perspective on what not to say