Learning to live with the pain

Hi baby girl,

These past few weeks have been different. I'm starting to find that these days I have more good days than bad days.

When I say "good days", that doesn't mean a day when I don't think about you, because I can't see that happening anytime soon. I think I will always find you in the little things - a pretty flower, the flutter of a butterfly's wings, a rainbow... There isn't a day that has gone by when I haven't thought about you. The difference is now I can think of you and begin to smile, knowing that you are transformed, living a life that is pain free, I hope you are living it up in Heaven and rocking with the angel baby family you have up there.

At first, not feeling the same deep, deep sadness that I felt at the start made me feel guilty and sad. But I know that everyone grieves differently. Just because I'm not a sobbing mess anymore doesn't mean that I love you and miss you any less. It's not like any of this makes any more sense. Not at all, I still don't get why things had to happen this way. I still wish with all my heart that you were here and growing bigger and stronger every day inside me. I don't think that wish will ever change.

How do you grieve for someone you've never met, yet love with all your heart? I don't know, so I had to find my own way. My way has been to honour your memory by talking about you to anyone and everyone who will listen. By finding other mummies who live everyday without their precious babies, just like daddy and I live everyday without you.

My way is to pour all the love I have for you into creating something special and beautiful just for you. My way is to dream about you while I sew another little stitch into your very own quilt. Do you like the colours I've chosen for you? Do you like the patterns and the shapes? I hope so. Maybe one day you can tell me exactly what you think of it.

I know that you wouldn't want me to be sad forever. Daddy said that to me the other day and so did some of the other angel mummies I speak to often. Most days are good, but some days are still bad.

The other day I drove past the hospital where I went to see the doctor for you. The thought that if everything had gone well, I'd still be going there for you brought tears to my eyes. Then another day, a lady I work with brought her newborn granddaughter in to work. It broke my heart to hold that tiny, beautiful little girl and know that I will never get to hold you like that. Nor will your grandmother, who was so very excited about being a grandmother, get the chance to introduce you to her friends like that. 

Yes, some days are still bad. But most days are good. I still love you and miss you every single day. I still wear the necklace I had made for you and it helps to know you are symbolically near, even though I know you will always be in my heart.

Another angel mummy said that this means I'm learning to live with the pain. I want you to know that while that learning process is still hard, painful and awkward, I'm getting better everyday. I don't like the thought that you may be worrying over me or daddy, because you're a beautiful child of heaven and should be happy and free without worries. So know this my love, I will never stop loving you but very, very, very slowly I think that great big gaping hole in my heart is starting to mend - ironically, with the very thing that makes it hurt so very much. My love for you. 

It's a swelteringly hot day here today, I hope heaven has ice creams with chocolate sprinkles for you. 

I love you always and forever my baby girl.
You are always in my heart.
mummy xxx

Thief in the night

Sometimes my grief sneaks up on me like a thief in the night.

I thought I was coping okay after my doctor's visit on Monday. I was fine at work, which is a small blessing - thank you God. I was even okay while stuck in traffic despite a headache starting, but when I got home, kaboom! Explosion of tears and heartbreak.

It's a helpless feeling when I can't even predict when it's going to hit me anymore. Some days I feel the build up starting and can prepare for it by removing myself from places, people and situations that I know will not help. Other times, it is completely unexpected. 

I so wish that my doctor's visit on Monday could have been for a different reason. I would have loved to have seen my baby and to have heard her tiny little heart beating.

Pip would have been almost 15 weeks old today.

My heart isn't ready

Today I had my post-miscarriage check at the hospital. It's a routine check-up, just to make sure that everything that was meant to come out (tissue matter etc.) during the miscarriage has indeed come out. My worst nightmare would have been my Obstetrician telling me that I needed a D&C. 

It's not logical, but to me it felt like needing a D&C would have defeated the whole purpose of having a natural miscarriage in the first place, (for me at least) because I hated the thought of anything surgical touching what was left of my little girl inside me.I read that the likelihood of anything actually being left behind in my uterus was very low because I would have had some very serious symptoms by now if that was the case, but I don't really know what to expect anymore sometimes.

So my doctor had a look and said that my uterus looks "nice and healthy". To me the ultrasound just looked like a bunch of grey lines, but I suppose that's what the years of training are for. 

He also gave me a look and said "your body is ready". I'm gathering that he means my body is ready to conceive again. But the thing is, my heart is not ready. So where does that leave us?

Again, this isn't a logical thought, very much an emotional one, but at this point in time, planning to have a baby just feels like we would be trying to replace Pip. While intellectually I know that that can never be true, simply because Pip can never be replaced, emotionally...well try telling my heart that. 

It all gets so confusing sometimes. 

Some days really suck

It's our wedding anniversary today and hubby is not here. A close friend is grieving at her father's funeral and I can't go over there to give her a hug because she lives in another state and my boss whom I love like a mother is in surgery today to have a malignant tumour removed from her face. 

 Sometimes life just really, really, really sucks. 

One good thing did happen though. The special necklace I was waiting for arrived in the mail today. 

There are two tiny crystals attached. A pink rose quartz for healing and pink for a girl and an aqua crystal symbolising Pip's due date, the birthstone for March.

The words on the back have been hand stamped.

I'm not usually a fan of jewellery, especially necklaces. But I have hardly taken this off since I got it. 

It's almost like the universe knew that I would need to have Pip just a little bit closer to my heart today. The timing was absolutely perfect. 

The website I ordered this from is: La Belle Dame

First block finished

So happy to have finished the first block of the quilt today! 

I spent the whole weekend working on it. I haven't quilted or done much sewing in a very long time, so I took extra care and twice as long to make sure that everything was just right.

The font for the embroidery is my own handwriting. I did think of using a typed font from my computer which would have made it a lot easier to transfer to fabric and work out with spacing, but using my own handwriting feels so much more personal. I had to fiddle with the spacing a bit and redo it twice, but I'm really pleased with the end result. 

I also underestimated the amount of thread embroidery takes, so will have to find either matching thread for the rest of the blocks, or perhaps a different coloured thread for each verse, to match each element. Not sure of that yet, the quilt is already going to be so colourful, I don't want it to be over the top.

I found the fabric for the center panel where the embroidery is years ago in Japan and loved the colours. Again another dreamy purchase for a future baby quilt. Little did I know it would be going into a memorial quilt. The peace fabric was purchased online on etsy.

The idea with the corner squares is for the end result to show just the pattern of the circle, which was fussy-cut specifically, after it's been pieced with the rest of the quilt. It's kind of hard to picture what it will all look like from my descriptions, but it looks good in my head :)

Dear Pip

My beautiful little girl,

Daddy and I loved you from the moment we knew you were growing inside me. I miss you every single day and think about you all the time. 

What would you have looked like, would you have had daddy's gorgeous green eyes? Would you have had my curly hair? Would you have been cheeky like daddy and stubborn like mummy? Whatever you looked like or whoever you are as a person, we have so much love for you that will always and forever be yours alone. 

You were so loved, wanted and adored before you even got here. We will never stop loving you and we will never forget you. You are always in my heart, my beloved angel baby. I'm so sorry we couldn't meet here on earth. What I wouldn't give just to hold you in my arms for a moment in time. I can't wait to meet you one day at Heaven's gates.

Stay safe and play with all the other angel babies until then my love,
Love always, Mummy xxx.

My Miscarriage

The story of my miscarriage starts at our first scan. To begin to understand how devastating this whole experience was for us, you'd have to know how we felt about our baby.

We could not wait for our first visit to the Obstetrician at 9 weeks because we were desperate to catch that first glimpse of our baby. After what felt like forever going over our medical history and details, we finally got to see our doctor and could not wait to get in the hot seat. We happily passed over our USB stick to our doctor so he could download pictures of our baby for us to share with our family and friends and for us to keep and treasure forever. My husband was standing by with his phone ready to capture a video of our baby moving and for us to swoon over the sound of her heartbeat.

Using the wand our doctor could only pick up the sac but no baby or heartbeat. I think the moment I knew something was wrong was when he mumbled to himself, "That doesn't make sense..." After a long silence and some more looking around, he started to ask questions about when my last period was and how far along the pregnancy was.

He gave me the choice of doing an internal scan or waiting for a week to see if perhaps we'd gotten our dates wrong, to come back for another scan. I wasn't crazy about the idea of an internal, but did it because that sinking feeling was growing exponentially with every passing moment. The internal found our tiny pip laying very still, still no heartbeat and no blood flow. Pip was supposed to be 9.5 weeks, but only measured the size of a 6.5 week baby.

He showed us these blue and red dots all around Pip in my body indicating bloodflow all around her in my body, but there wasn't even a single miserable dot on her :( He looked at my husband and said quietly, "I didn't take any photos" and told me I could get dressed. I dressed as fast as I could and the silence in the room was becoming quite oppressive. 


We talked about how the scan did not look good and what it could mean. It could be that we had gotten our dates wrong and weren't really 9 weeks along after all, perhaps just 6 or 7 weeks. But it could also be that our baby had stopped growing. Naturally we latched on to the first option and decided to come back in a week to check if Pip had grown. By the time we left his office, we were both wrecks. I could not stop crying and somehow we stumbled to our car and made our way home in shock.

Needless to say we were in shock for quite a while after that even as we told our close family and friends who knew. All were very supportive although some just didn't know how to react and a few said things which in my oversensitive mode, I may have been extra hurt by. That week between visits felt like the longest week of my life. I had long talks with Pip telling her a little bit about everyone who's waiting to meet her, how much we love and want her and what we'd love to show her in the world once she gets here. To help keep myself positive I put together a playlist of "happy music" on my ipod which I listened to and even visualized our next scan where she'd have a heartbeat and bloodflow and maybe be moving a little. I can't tell you how difficult it was to try to be strong in this time, but we coped the best we could.

A week later, we were back at our doctor's office. This time the wand didn't pick up anything at all. An internal picked up the sac but no baby. It appeared that Pip had left the building, so to speak. The sac itself was also measuring smaller than before and our doctor said that it appeared to already be collapsing on itself.

I don't know how I managed to stay calm enough to talk, through tears, but nonetheless remain calm enough to hold a conversation when all I really wanted to do was rage at the world. We talked about where to from here, we were given the option of a D&C but although this may sound strange, I just could not bear the thought of any surgical instrument touching what was left of my baby in my body. We did not know when my period would start again and were warned that a natural miscarriage could range from bleeding to painful cramping and heavy clotting. Our doctor talked us through what we could do and pain relief options.

I believe our miscarriage is medically known as a "missed miscarriage". Our doctor told us that there was no reason why this was happening, it wasn't because of anything we had or hadn't done. Sometimes babies grew without essential genetic material and organs don't form properly, so they don't survive. There was a very high chance that even if our pregnancy had continued, our baby may have been "incompatible with life". Don't you love medical terminology? 

I am so very thankful that our doctor was so patient, kind and compassionate with us. He was so human and gentle as he explained everything. We never felt rushed at any point and I never felt like I was dismissed or treated in a clinical way, which I know other people have felt and can't imagine how much more distressing that would be in a situation like this. He had a waiting room full of patients to see, but I will always be grateful that he gave us as much time as we needed, passed the tissue box over, said he was so sorry for our loss like he really meant it and did not charge his private consultation fee for our appointment, aside from bulk-billing the government. I will forever be grateful that my doctor was wonderful.

Although it wasn't looking good that week, I don't think a parent's heart ever stops hoping that maybe, just maybe a miracle would happen and somehow we would walk away from this with our precious baby. We had so many lovely people thinking of us and so many prayers which were very gratefully received and much appreciated. 

Four days after we saw our doctor, my period started. Five days after that my miscarriage took place. 

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 ((Please be warned that the following description of my miscarriage is quite graphic and some may find the content upsetting. If you don't want to know the details, please stop reading here and just know that it was painful, upsetting and horrible.))

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It started shortly before midnight. I was in agony with the cramps so took two panadols (haha) and tried to get comfortable but couldn't. When I was curled up into a tight ball in bed, I wanted to be on the toilet. When I was on the toilet I wanted to be in bed. It was almost like someone had turned on a tap in my uterus and the bleeding just went crazy and didn't stop. The cramping came in waves and the whole thing felt like a "mini-labour" even though I've never experienced childbirth myself so can't tell but that's what I think it felt like. There was nothing I could do but try to breathe through it the best I could.

I started to pass clots which grew in size to really big clots towards the end. At one point I was even throwing up at the same time but couldn't leave the toilet because I couldn't change pads fast enough. So eventually I just sat on the shower floor and rode it out. 

After a long time when it felt like the very severe cramps were getting less painful and I was able to stand up again without doubling over, I left the bathroom. I remember glancing at my face in the mirror and noting how white my lips looked. But by that point I had lost so much blood plus the heat from the shower made me feel very lightheaded. 

I almost made it into the bedroom from the bathroom but must have fainted on the dog's bed (thank god we've always had her bed outside ours from the time she was a puppy so she could be close), because one minute I had my hand turning the bedroom door's doorknob and the next I was laying on my dog's bed looking at the ceiling thinking "this is really comfortable, maybe I'll just stay here for a while..." *licks in the face from puppy* Ok maybe not... But that part was funny and I can smile about it at least. Poor girl I must have scared the crap out of her. I just don't remember how I got there. Eventually there was a break in the cramps for long enough that I managed to collapse into my bed.

I was alone that night, half by choice and half by circumstance. Hubby was away for work overseas in a trip that had been scheduled a long time prior. In a way I was very, very thankful that he wasn't around to see all of that. There's nothing worse than seeing the one you love in agony but not be able to do anything about it. 

I was so exhausted that night that I slept the sleep of the dead and woke up the next morning when my alarm told me it was time to get ready for work. I remembered looking at every clot and thinking, "Is that my baby?". I also remember my tummy looking completely flat that morning too (something I never thought i'd be sad about). 

I did go to work that day because I was feeling okay enough to do so. But mainly because I needed the routine and structure plus something to do. I was not ready then to fall apart and process the fact that my miscarriage had literally felt like my baby was being ripped out of my body. I was not ready to process the fact that my baby had well and truly gone. I was not ready to process the fact that I was officially not pregnant or expecting our first child any more.

I do remember one primary thought running through my head and that was, "I just want my baby back". I would give anything to just be able to hold my baby in my arms for a moment in time.

I know that there are people out there who experience so many other worse situations, like multiple miscarriages, or lose their baby prior to or at birth. Our baby was found still at 9 weeks and the pain that we feel at having lost her is unfathomable, I cannot imagine how very painful and devastating it would be to lose a baby at a later stage.

Whether or not someone chooses a D&C or a natural miscarriage is a completely personal choice. Knowing what I know and have experienced, I still don't know if I would have opted for a D&C. I made the choice that was right for me at the time and if you are in a situation where you are wondering what choice you should make, I would suggest talking to your doctor (if your doctor is not kind and supportive like mine was, please, please get a second opinion if you can, there are great medical professionals out there who would love to help you) and choosing what feels right in your heart. No one can make that choice for you but yourself and whatever you decide will be the right thing because you can only do the best you can in any given situation with the resources you have at that given moment.

Again, I'd like to say that if you can relate to any of my story in your own journey, or in the journey of someone you know and love, I am so very sorry for your loss.

1st piece

When my baby died while she was meant to be growing inside my body, it felt like a piece of my heart died with her. Some days it felt like every cell in my body was bursting with pain. The more time passed, the more the shock wore off and the more that pain grew. I knew that I had to do something to help myself process this grief that is so very raw.

I'm a quilter. Or I was a quilter. I'd made a couple of quilts, all for family and friends, but somehow had never made one to keep for myself. I'm an artist, I dabble with different medias but have never really followed one path long enough to call myself anything in particular. I'm also a doer and a maker. When I'm bored, I find stuff to do (my husband calls this "looking for trouble"). When I feel restless, I make stuff.

And so as I waited for my miscarriage to happen, I toyed with the idea of making a quilt for Pip. The idea of pouring all my love and energy into making something beautiful to honour her memory was very appealing.

With that in mind, I started browsing etsy to see what I could find and before the day was over, this maybe quilt has already started to form a life of it's own. The only thing I started off with was apples, because Pip is so named because she was the size of an apple pip when our pregnancy was confirmed with a bloodtest. I wanted to find a fabric that had apple pips on it and found this one straight away!


















Then I started looking for love and found this...

















It's a bonus that it has peace too, because that's also one of my wishes for Pip.

Coincidentally both of those have pink and aqua in them which are so appropriate because we felt that Pip was a girl right from the start, so pink for a little girl and aqua because her birth stone would have been Aqua (estimated due date was March 23rd 2012). Red for love and a touch of yellow for hope which I'll hopefully find before too long. The only one I couldn't find was something that symbolised angels.

They're all quite "busy" fabrics, so I will somehow have to find a way to balance them out with more soothing fabrics, but it's a start.

I ordered them wishing that I was buying them for a baby quilt of a different kind. From the time I started quilting, I started hoarding fabric that I loved and had to have. So I have a stockpile of different pieces of fabric, each one picked specifically for a quilt I had in mind. Even though I wasn't ready to make my own baby quilt back then, I did have my weak moments where I caved and put away a special piece of fabric for the day when I would start to make my baby his or her own special quilt. It breaks my heart that this quilt will be a memorial quilt. It feels so wrong that my first baby quilt for myself it isn't going to wrap my baby up in love. When it's finished there will be no special little person for it to belong to. Instead it will be the very first quilt I have made to keep for myself.

Nonetheless, I am really looking forward to receiving the fabrics in the mail and making a start. My plan is to handquilt it once I've finished putting the quilt top together, which will take me forever, but that's not the point. As Mel said in her blog, this quilt will be my labour of love. I only wish that I was making a baby quilt and not a memorial quilt. But every quilt has a story and so the story of Pip's quilt begins.

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