Little Pip and the rainbow wish

Last October something special happened. 

I was sitting in front of my computer in the very early hours of October 15 2013. The act of being up late in itself rarely happens any more. With a young baby, it has become the norm for me to become somewhat less coherent the closer the clock ticks to midnight. 

So there I was, going through my emails when I came to an offer for children's books. I was absent-mindedly scrolling through the page of discounted books when the book "Little Pip and the rainbow wish" just jumped off my screen. I sat there staring at my screen with my heart thumping in my chest. 

If you're a regular reader of my blog, you'll know that Pip is our name for our first baby. We nicknamed our baby "Pip" because when we found out that we were pregnant, she (strong girl feeling) was the size of an apple pip and so the name Pip just stuck. Sadly Pip was lost to us in an early miscarriage and this blog is my story of how I am still putting myself back together after her loss. 

In baby loss circles, the term "rainbow baby" refers to a baby that comes after a pregnancy or infant loss because rainbows symbolise hope, just as a rainbow baby carries all the hopes of his or her parents that he or she will arrive safely in this world, especially after the trauma or the "storm" of baby loss previously experienced. 

As I looked into this book a little more, I realised that the main character called Pip was a boy mouse. Even though I "know" in my heart without a doubt that my Pip is a girl, I still could not shake the feeling that this was an incredible coincidence.

After we lost Pip, to say that we felt her loss deeply would be an understatement. We still miss her now after all this time. After her loss, we also prayed, hoped and wished for another baby - a rainbow baby - to join our family.

What made this even more special is that this book found me in the early hours of October 15. In baby loss circles, October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance day. 

I wanted to contact the writer, Elizabeth Baguley, to share this story with her straight away. But instead I sat on it for over a month until finally I knew that I had to do it. So I wrote to her last November. A few days later, she wrote back in a lovely response:

"...I'm glad that you did write to tell me all this: it's such a touching story.  Although it's pure serendipity that Little Pip has such a resonance with your circumstances,  I feel somehow proud to be part of your life, especially since there's such a happy epilogue to your tragedy (although the tragedy still remains, I know).

I hope you'll read Little Pip to your daughter when she's old enough – and I'm certain to think of you whenever I read it to children when I visit schools."

I wrote to her again to ask if she'd mind that I share this story on my blog. Happily for me, she was delighted for me to do this. So thank you Elizabeth Baguley for writing this book and for allowing me to share this story here on my blog. I know that as my little one grows up, your book will be one of the most special in our library. 

An eventful pregnancy

Disclaimer: This post contains a couple of photos of a medical nature, stuff that happened at the hospital and throughout the duration of my pregnancy. Please exercise due care when reading and viewing the contents of this page. 

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After we lost Pip, it took us some time to build the courage back up to start trying for another baby. Since it took us a while to fall pregnant with Pip, I was bracing myself for what could possibly be a long and eventful TTC (trying to conceive) journey. So many changes took place in our lives and then suddenly, the cycle after Pip's EDD (estimated due date), I started to feel very queasy and generally felt "off". 

I told myself I was imagining it and since we were travelling at the time, I didn't want to rush off to the pharmacy to buy a test and to build my expectations up only for everything to come crashing down again. Ah the joys of the emotional roller coaster that is TTC! When I struggled through a 3 hour plane journey, I knew that wasn't normal. But still, I didn't allow myself to believe until a week later. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I took the test. 

Lo and behold, two little lines appeared. 

I can't tell you how long I sat there staring at those lines. There was a quiet sense of joy, an instant surge of love and an all encompassing feeling of fear and anxiety. I told my husband and we both celebrated quietly. There was happiness, but behind our joy lurked the fear and dread that history would repeat itself. We didn't get as excited as we did when we fell pregnant with Pip - self protection to help protect us from the pain of loss we only knew too well. 

When we found out we were expecting Pip, we rang our immediate family straight away and everyone was so happy for us. This time around, we took our time telling everyone. Our news was received with joy, but we also felt the echo of our loss. People didn't get as excited as they did before. There was a quiet acceptance of our little one immediately into the family. But grief and loss has a way of breaking you and then putting you back together again in a way that is quite difficult to explain in words. So while we were happy and excited in our own way, it was different to our first pregnancy with Pip because we were not the same people we were back then. 

I think it really hit me that I was pregnant when I started to feel quite ill. I have certainly felt more unwell in my life. But I have also gotten better pretty soon afterwards each time. I think the thing that made the pregnancy sickness I felt so awful was how it went on and on and on and on and on and on with no end in sight. 

Sometimes certain things helped for a day or two (like ginger, dry toast etc.), then on the third day, I was back at square one. It really didn't help when I was told things like "you'll only feel sick when you wake up in the mornings, so just eat a dry cracker and you'll be fine!" or "yeah by 12 weeks you'll be fine!" or "oh I know exactly how you feel, I threw up three of four times when I was pregnant too". I realise that people try to be supportive by sharing their experiences, but I only truly found understanding in my friends who had also experienced Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG) during their pregnancies. 

At around the same time that we lost Pip, I was hospitalised with HG after I could not keep anything in. I worried day and night that I was starving my baby. That she couldn't possibly be getting enough in the way of nutrients to grow. I could not even tolerate pregnancy multivitamins. My doctor said that this was quite common in her patients who experienced HG and she had me taking folic acid only for the longest time. I was terrified that due to a lack of vitamins my little one was not receiving all a baby needs to develop healthily. That it would only be a matter of time before we lost this one too. Each day was terrifying. 

I was very lucky to only be in hospital for three days and two nights. Some women I know experienced countless hospital visits for the entire duration of their pregnancies and in some extreme cases, were hospitalised for months. Some of my friends told me that they only felt better after they had given birth. I felt terrible for 16 weeks and I was only able to stop all HG medication and began to feel reasonably human again by around 20 weeks. I was thankful then and I am thankful now that I only had HG for around half my pregnancy and not the whole run. 

Back at the hospital, I was so exhausted from feeling so sick that the first night was a blur. After my IV was inserted, my doctor told me that I was out like a light. Hospitals are also one of the worst places to get any rest because every few hours someone is there checking on something, taking your temperature, strapping the blood pressure machine to your arm, changing IVs, pressing buttons, moving things around, asking questions when I was half asleep and so on. 

I felt a little better once I was starting to get re-hydrated  but I still couldn't keep anything down. My doctor recommended Gatorade to try to keep my fluids and electrolytes up. I tried to drink it, but it would not stay down. I tried to eat. I really did. I even forced myself to eat. But the result was always the same. Fifteen minutes to half an hour later, up it would come. It's so much fun running to the bathroom when you've got a needle in your hand and the IV trolley to roll around behind you! I became an expert at reading the "about to throw up" cues.  

The hospital tried to accommodate me and sent up their interpretation of Western meals. I really appreciated it, but unfortunately it didn't really help. I probably would have felt the same eating almost anything. By this point in my pregnancy I could not even look at meat. Which by the way, was a huge deal for me because I used to really enjoy meat as part of my meals. 

In the picture above, the hospital had prepared a cream sauce pasta with carrots and cauliflower after I asked if it would be possible for them to eliminate meat from the meals they sent up. Out of the four items on the tray - the vege pasta, toast, soup and some fruit - you guessed it. None stayed down. 

When I wasn't passed out with exhaustion I talked to my baby and told her how much we're hoping she's okay and we're looking forward to meeting her soon. A bit of deja-vu as I did this with Pip also in that week following the scan of doom. It was hard not to go back to that dark place, especially during my scans. But thankfully through this whole ordeal our baby was okay. We heard her heartbeat for the first time then and it made my HG experience bearable. I started to consider that perhaps feeling sick was an indicator of my HCG levels remaining strong, so every time I threw up during the day I'd tell myself that it was a sign my baby was getting stronger. I had started to feel sick during my pregnancy with Pip also, but no where near what I felt with this pregnancy.

I convinced my doctor to send me home after my second night in hospital. If I was to continue throwing up, at least I'd be somewhat more comfortable in a familiar environment. She kept me for observation a little while longer, then we went home with a bag of anti emetic medication. By the time we were about to go home, my hand was so swollen from the IV that I couldn't even see my knuckles any more. The saline and other medication administered through the drip was cold so my hand was constantly freezing, but having a warm compress over the needle in my hand helped it to feel a little better. My hand was really hurting after the second day. By the morning of the third day, my hand has blown up like a balloon. Fun times. 

Back at home, the challenge to find something - anything - I could eat that was nutrious continued. I managed to find some instant Pho noodles in the grocery store and for a few weeks lived on that because I couldn't stomach anything heavier. The worst part was I'd start to eat the noodles, have to get up mid way through a meal to throw up, then come back and force myself to eat the rest of it so that baby was getting something other than just water. Now I can't walk past a store that sells Pho noodles without feeling the same nausea in the pit of my belly. 

I drank clear chicken broth for a few days and that helped some. But eventually even that was no longer tolerable. The smell of anything meaty would set me off. Especially the smell of raw meat or the smell of meat cooking. I was in the 3rd floor of a friend's house and the moment I opened the door, the smell of meat cooking in their kitchen on the ground floor would make me leg it to the bathroom. It seems that I had developed a super sensitive sense of smell as well during pregnancy, which didn't help.

I am so thankful that my doctor was so compassionate and understanding. It would have been awful to have been under the care of a doctor who thought I was making this up. In fact the day that my husband took me to the hospital after I could not even keep water down, my doctor was not there so I was sent to see another doctor. She was one of the rudest and most uncaring people I've ever met. She pinched the skin on my arm and stated "You're not dehydrated. Go home". When I told her of my history of miscarriage and my concerns that I would loose this baby too if I kept vomiting, she dismissed me and proceeded to list her duties as a lecturer of medicine in a nearby university which I can only assume was to make the impression that she knew what she was talking about. I suppose that after practising medicine for many years, some medical professionals become desensitised to suffering and only severe medical cases make any impression on them. Luckily my doctor returned my call just as she was about to send us out of her office to go home. After my doctor had a brief chat with Dr Unhelpful and checked in with me, she told me to go to the maternity ward for observation and later admitted me.

Nothing can beat being under the care of an experienced and compassionate doctor. When certain things caused a reaction, she would suggest other things that had helped her other patients. And so when I reached the point where I could no longer eat real food, my doctor said "just eat ice cream". So I did. I normally love ice cream, but even this was a struggle for me. My husband was wonderful and purchased a variety of flavours for me to try. In the end I would just settle down for dinner with a spoon and the ice cream container. 

Until I felt my baby move, every day brought it's own emotional challenges. I was so lucky to feel our baby move for the first time at 16 weeks. I was sitting in bed with my laptop and I very clearly felt a sharp poke from the inside of my belly button. From that point onwards the movements became clearer and I really loved feeling my baby move and it gave me the reassurance that she was alive. Towards the end when bub ran out of room, I could see little lumps and bumps on my belly where an elbow or a knee would be sticking out. My husband also loved feeling our baby move and so it was awful when one day she suddenly stopped moving. 

Back to the hospital we went and strangely enough, I ended up in the same bed which was in the maternity ward where I first got hooked up the IV and was under observation. This time I got hooked up to a fetal heartbeat monitor instead. I can't tell you the relief we both felt when we heard our baby's faint heartbeat. I had to press a button every time I felt our baby move as well. We did this for several hours and lost baby's heartbeat a few times as bub moved around, but thankfully all was well and we went home later that night. 

There was a bit of drama in the rest of the pregnancy when we were exposed to Tuberculosis and my husband and I had to go through several checks, an xray for my husband and blood tests for the both of us for this. Not only was this incredibly stressful, but dealing with the possibility that our child could be born with TB and all that implies as well as dealing with HG   was just not fun. 

Along the way of course there were a million other blood tests as well. Most were uneventful but one in particular left a huge bruise on my arm. The nurses were always telling me that I had tiny veins, but this has got to be the worst blood test ever. This photo below was taken a few days after the bruise had started to heal so this was after most of the damage had subsided. 

I was devastated when the routine gestational diabetes test came back positive. So I went back for a more thorough one. I have a history of diabetes on both sides of my family, but I had been so strict at not eating any junk or sweet things during my pregnancy that I felt like all my efforts had been for nothing. I also didn't have a sweet tooth so it was a bit of a shock on that front as well. My initial test reading was great, but the readings after that were terrible. It was interesting that on the day when I went back to the hospital for the second gestational diabetes test, I saw a Pip number plate and just felt her presence with me. I certainly needed a bit more support that day, so I did appreciate the little signs of her that I received. 

I was upset at yet another hurdle along this journey, but I was determined to avoid insulin if I could help it. So I isolated the foods that gave me high readings (toast at breakfast, even the whole grain, sugar free variety made for diabetics!) and avoided those. The only thing I could have for breakfast for the longest time was oats, but in the final weeks even oats gave me very high spikes. I have always disliked oats but now I had to force myself to eat it. It would literally take me 45 minutes to swallow 3 spoonfuls. 

My testing kit came with me everywhere. The biggest changes I made to what I was already doing was to eat a small snack in between meals, whereas before I had only been trying to eat 3 meals a day. By this point in my pregnancy I had lost any enjoyment I previously obtained from food. I ate so that my baby could live and that was really it. This also was a radical change to who I was pre-pregnancy as I really enjoyed good food. 

Thankfully just as I started to feel better, it was time for our family to relocate internationally so I was grateful that I could do a lot of the packing and sorting that was required. During this time I started experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions at least twice a day. My doctor told me to rest as much as I could, which was difficult while we were relocating and trying to get a large amount of work done in a short period of time. I was given medication with to stop labour if it started, just in case. Thankfully with the help of family, our move went smoothly and then we waited for our container to arrive so that we could get settled into our new home. 

Since I was experiencing regular Braxton-Hicks, my doctor sent me for non-stress tests every two weeks once I reached the late 20 weeks mark of my pregnancy. I was so glad that my mother had joined us as it made a big difference to lifting my spirits. She was relentless in trying different foods until she found dishes I could tolerate when it was clear that my childhood favourites were no longer doing the trick. I only wanted bland food all the time because spicy food or anything with a strong flavour made me feel ill. 

I became very familiar with the non-stress test room and the ultrasound rooms. I knew that the spikes in the bottom chart indicated contractions, but to be honest I didn't even feel them. Towards the very end of my pregnancy the doctors who did my scan knew me by name and would exclaim "Your baby is still not here yet!" as I went in for yet another non-stress or ultrasound.

I stopped attending pre-natal yoga by 38 weeks because I could barely walk any longer without assistance from my husband or without holding on to rails. From the 30 week mark of my pregnancy I had developed hip pain which meant that my pregnancy waddle was quite distinct. 

We were getting excited as the days grew closer to 40 weeks. I was feeling worse and worse about my diet as towards the end my gestational diabetes restricted the variety of foods I could consume without causing spikes in my readings. At 40 weeks and 6 days, my doctor strongly recommended an induction. Having gestational diabetes severely increased the risk of stillbirth the longer we waited, so we went ahead with this. After the whole day in labour with no signs of progress, our baby was born via a c-section that evening. 

There was a sheet from my chest upwards, which prevented me from seeing what was going on as the surgery got under way. My husband held my hand and we talked excitedly about meeting our baby in only a few short minutes. Then my husband said "She's here!" but I couldn't hear anything. My husband left my side to cut the umbilical cord and I could not see or hear anything. I waited in agony to hear my baby cry but there was only silence. 

I remember that the first thing I said to my husband was "Is she alive?" and my husband replied, "She's beautiful". Then I heard that first cry and before I realised it, tears were running down my face. The nurse mopped up a few tears because my hands were strapped up and she said "You're crying so much!" and I assured her they were happy tears. There was a blur of activity as our baby was weighed and then finally after what seemed like forever, they freed my hands and placed her on the pillow next to me. 

I can't tell you what I felt in that moment but it ranged from overwhelming joy, relief that our little one had survived pregnancy and birth, LOVE! My heart was just bursting at the seams with love and happiness. It felt like I had waited a lifetime for that moment when I finally got to meet her. Too soon after that, they took my daughter away to put her under the heat lamps as she was getting cold and I remained in the operating theatre while they finished up. 

I was so delirious with joy that I remember talking to the nurses non-stop. After a while they gave each other a look over the top of the sheet and I said "Am I talking too much!? I'm just so happy!". That adrenaline rush lasted 3 nights. I could barely sleep and I was smiling from ear to ear. I recovered well and was able to walk with help two days after my surgery. On the third day we came home and life was never the same again. Because of the HG, I lost a total of 9kgs from my first doctors visit to when our daughter was born. Our baby weighed just over 3kgs when she was born. The road to recovery was pretty good actually after the c-section, but my hip pain lingers on still. 

Now that I have experienced labour pain, I can say for sure that the pain I experienced when miscarrying Pip was indeed labour pain. The birth of our baby has helped us heal so much, but yet the void that Pip left behind remains. I don't think that anything will fill that void and certainly nothing and no one will ever replace her. Once upon a time I did not think that it would be possible to love another baby as much as we loved Pip, but now I know that my heart has just expanded to include both my children. 

A Rainbow Baby

I think I'm finally starting to allow myself to accept that maybe this baby will make it. 


It struck me at a random moment today that when I was pregnant with Pip, I used to sing "You are my sunshine" to her. I don't know why that song or when I really even started, I just know that in that final week of doom right before we received confirmation that she was indeed dead, I sang it over and over to my belly, almost imploring her to stay with me. You'll never know dear how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away... little did I know that she was already gone.


With this baby, whom we've affectionally started calling "jellybean" or bean for short, I caught myself singing "Somewhere over the rainbow". Again it wasn't a conscious choice. Just something that sort of happened before I realised I was doing it. It seems a fitting song for a rainbow baby, maybe, hopefully... Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true...

The past 3 weeks have been difficult. My pregnancy sickness (I refuse to call it morning sickness because it's not just in the mornings!) has gotten steadily worse. It wasn't just the nausea. I hate it when people say "just" the nausea as if that's something that's so easy to cope with. It's that awful feeling that sits low in your belly and just keeps building all day. I was vomitting acid once on a good day and about 3-4 times on a bad day at the start. Towards the end I was vomiting up to 12 times a day even when I didn't think I had anything left to bring up. There was the heartburn, the acid reflux and worst of all was how my mouth would produce a ton of saliva. Constantly! It was really gross and I hated that the most. 


I was also loosing weight as the weeks went on and eventually it all came to a head on Tuesday when I couldn't keep anything down at all. Not even the water I was drinking to try to stay hydrated. So finally we headed to the hospital and my doctor admitted me that night. For the next 2 nights and a bit I was on a continuous IV with anti emetics administered through the IV. My diagnosis was "Hyperemesis Gravidarum". I hope that most people won't ever have to know what that term means, because it's a really bad feeling. Trust me. 


I was finally able to come home yesterday with a bag full of anti nausea medication my doctor assured me is safe for the baby. My right hand was so swollen that my knuckles weren't clearly visible and I couldn't touch my forearm without pain. That was the hand that they used mostly for the IV, they only swapped to the left hand early the morning I was discharged. I was told that I had "baby veins" which were hard to find, so in the end on the night I was admitted they had to call in an Anesthetist to find a vein so that they could start the IV.


I'm not complaining. I would happily go through much worse if it would mean having a healthy baby. I am so grateful for this baby that I would never wish any of this away, but I think one can be grateful and also feel like utter rubbish at the same time. 


My biggest worry through all of this was whether my baby was alright. The next morning after I was admitted I was wheeled down to the ultrasound room. I told the nurse I could walk but he was horrified and told me he'd loose his job if they saw me walking. He seemed like a nice guy and I didn't want him to loose his job, so I sat and he wheeled. Again I had to have the dildo-cam (transvaginal ultrasound). I hate those things so much because they always hurt me. I always ask if I can insert them but they always want to do it and it isn't until I'm gritting my teeth and crawling up the bed to get away from it with tears running down my face that they look over and say "Huh...this is really hurting you!" No shit Sherlock. What do you think I was trying to tell you?


Thankfully I had a doctor who was human this time. I love that in my hospital ob/gyns do the scans not technicians. She allowed me to insert it and was nervously watching, "Please don't drop it". "Don't worry I've got a good hold on it". Within minutes bean's sac popped up on the screen. 


For one utterly bone chilling moment it looked exactly like we had an empty sac. I tried not to freak out, but old fears are hard to release, especially in the same environment that they occurred in. But sat there repeating the mantra I had been saying in my head from the time I was wheeled down from my room, "Please be alive", "Please be alive", "Please be alive"...


The doctor didn't seem concerned and was doing measurements. Then finally she zoomed in and there was our little bean. I actually saw bean move and just like that all my worries were gone. My baby is alive! She poked around a bit more and did some more measurements. Finally she pressed a button and I could hear bean's little heart galloping away. 169 beats per minute! It was the sweetest sound I'd heard. I don't know whether it's the hormones or the fact that I never got to hear Pip's heartbeat, but hearing Bean's heartbeat is so emotional and I could feel the tears running down my face. The doctor gave me a funny look but didn't say anything. She was probably used to hormonal women bawling at the sight of their babies.


And just like that all was well with my world. My baby is alive! Swimming around happily and floating upside down in there. My husband joked that the reason I was probably feeling so sick was because bean was doing summersaults in there. 9 weeks old and already so energetic. I wonder if this is a sign of things to come? 


Hubby couldn't be with me during that scan as he was at work, but later when he was visiting during lunch, the nurse came around with a doppler to check the heartbeat again. It took her a while to find it, but I won't ever forget the priceless look on my husband's face the moment she found it and the sound of bean's racing heart filled the room. 


Gradually I am slowly starting to believe that maybe, just maybe this one might make it. I still speak in "if's". "If the baby makes it..." I still am very well aware that there are no guarantees and that everything can go to hell in a handbasket in an instant. But for now, there is a small measure of peace. My baby is alive. 

Prep and math

Almost this whole weekend was devoted exclusively to Pip's quilt. My mum's comment on my industrious streak - "If you keep going at this rate, you'll have it finished by Christmas!" may be a bit ambitious, but I'm very proud of how much I got done.

It feels like 80% of what I've been doing up to this point has been prep work. When I sat down and drafted the heart blocks and quilt layout the sums so far worked out as follows:

• 9 x embroidered blocks
• 8 x heart blocks
• 4 x star blocks
• 16 x apple pip fabric blocks
• 12 x 9 patch blocks (hmm...still wondering if this will work)
• All this surrounded by 2 or possibly 3 borders (See what I mean about the quilt's design changing on the fly?) 

So most of the weekend was spent chopping fabric up into patches. All the apple fabric blocks are now ready to go, the background fabric for the heart and star blocks cut and as of last night, the appliqued angel hearts have been vlisoflex-ed on. Vlisoflex is a double sided fusible magical creation that you iron on to hold applique in place until you've stitched it in place. Think double sided tape for fabric!

Each heart has 2 wings, each side of the wing has 3 pieces. So 6 different pieces for the wings alone, per block. I was determined to get the heart blocks ready for stitching if I could by last night, so I worked late into the night laying each piece out so that I could fiddle with arrangements and colours before I settled on the final arrangement. 

Even though in my sketch the hearts are red, in the end I chose a rainbow fabric I found in my fabric stash because it's so pretty and because it's a reference to rainbow babies. This is how Urban dictionary describes what a rainbow baby is: 

A "rainbow baby" is a baby that is born following a miscarriage or still birth.

In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison.

The storm (pregnancy loss) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm-clouds might still be overhead as the family continue to cope with the loss, but something colourful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.

"We lost our last pregnancy, but now we have a rainbow baby."

Someday when the universe sees fit, we would love to have a precious little baby to love, whether it is Pip returning to us transformed, or a brother or sister to love, the thought of a rainbow baby has a touch of magic to it.

So after fiddling with it some more, I finally decided on a final layout and ironed it all on. 

Excuse the awful overhead lighting, but I couldn't wait till morning to take a photo. I even managed to find a cute pink fabric that had silver glitter all through it (top part of the wings in the heart block pictured below). As my friend Nat said, every little princess deserves a little bit of bling! (even if Pip's bling is woven into the fabric of her quilt).

So here's a line up of the blocks so far. 

I'm quite happy with the way the colours are working together. Can't wait to get started on the blanket stitching on the heart applique. Hopefully the stitches will outline the different fabrics more.

According to the current plan, there are a grand total of 49 blocks in the middle. Which will be surrounded by 2 (possibly 3) borders and finished off with the binding.

Current count of blocks ready to be pieced into the top 17. 

32 blocks to go!!!

The heart block

The design for the heart block has been marinating in the think tank for a while. I agonise over every detail of this quilt because it has to be just right. Normally when I make and design a quilt, things happen on the fly. I trust my design intuition to guide me in the right direction and usually just work from a rough sketch that guides me from the start. I've never redesigned a quilt as many times as I have with this one though!

I know I want a heart with wings for the heart blocks. But even the direction of the wings was something I thought long and hard over. At first I thought I wanted the wings to face downwards, but a few weeks ago found that I was inspired to have it facing upwards instead. It's just a tiny detail, but to me the way the wings look and face really make a difference to the emotion behind the graphic. 

That day on the beach when I wrote Pip's name on the sand along with her other angel baby friends, I also doodled a rough sketch of an angel heart and really liked how it looked. 

Today I finally finished the embroidery for the second embroidered patch. Work has been keeping me very busy and I don't want to work on it when I'm exhausted because the chances of making silly mistakes usually grows exponentially by the minute.

Then I started thinking about what the whole quilt will look like and decided to make some changes, so I drafted a mini projection of what the whole quilt may look like when it's done. I say "may" because it's already been through about 20 changes. Insert colours and I'm liking the way it's coming together. 

Finally after spending the better part of this evening doodling hearts on scrap paper and after many corrections, I think I'm finally approaching satisfied on what it looks like on the mock paper block. The sketch of the quilt is also a bit off in dimensions. The finished quilt should turn out to be shorter in width and hopefully long enough to cover the cuddlee's lap and legs.

As much as I am enjoying the hand embroidery, I can't wait to get started on a heart block now. Hopefully the turn around time for the heart blocks will also be a lot quicker!

"You're treating this like someone has died..."

When someone first said this to me, I was too shocked to say anything at the time. Even after a few weeks of contemplation, I cannot help but think..."WTF?!" 

I still can't make sense of this comment. Are there people out there who think that if a baby hasn't developed to full term and isn't born into the world, that that baby isn't a person? How far along does a baby need to be before he or she is considered a real someone? 

The image below from 1972 is a well publicized picture of a tiny fetus still in his/her amniotic sac, which was taken after surgery for an ectopic pregnancy. This baby is 6 weeks old. Our Pip was the size of a 6.5 week old baby when we saw her at our 9 week scan, so I imagine she would have been very similar in size and development to the little bubba in this picture.

When we saw the only glimpse of Pip we had at our first scan of doom, I could clearly see the shape of her head as well as the tiny buds on her body which looked like tiny hands and feet. That image has been burned into my mind and I don't think I will ever forget it.

A baby's heart begins to beat by day 21. By week 5, the brain has divided into 5 areas, some cranial nerves are visible and their facial features have begun forming. At 6 weeks, the heart has dividied into it's left and right chambers, it's pumping blood and although we can't hear it yet, it beats at the rate of 150 per minute, which is twice the rate of ours! Halfway through week 6, the baby makes it's first movements although mum doesn't feel movements until the second trimester.

I'm sorry, but to me that sounds like a human being. I don't understand how someone could dismiss a life just because of it's size.

To me, someone has died and that someone is my baby. She was alive and growing inside me and now she is dead. Is that really so difficult to understand? 

Why?

Hi sweetheart,

It's mummy again. I haven't stopped thinking about you this week. Or ever, really. You are always in my heart. They say that time is supposed to help heal all wounds and maybe in time I will feel better, but this week I seem to have been missing you more than ever. 

This week, I know of two beautiful children who have arrived in the world and their mummies and daddies are celebrating their joy with the world. I couldn't wait for the day when you would arrive, so that I could show the world my beautiful daughter. I know you would have been the apple of our eyes. In another part of the country, another angel mummy I know is grieving her little boy who was meant to arrive this week. I asked the world why are some families blessed with beautiful healthy children and not others? It doesn't seem fair that not every baby is born healthy and strong.

As hard as I try, I still don't understand why you were taken from us. It seems that everywhere I look, I see beautiful, glowing, pregnant mummies and it hurts my heart that you are not here with me where you belong. This week I also saw pictures of other mummies who are expecting their babies to arrive around the same time you were due. Pictures of their bellies growing with their babies. I looked down at my belly, it feels too flat and too empty without you here. 

The doctor said that maybe you had to go because your organs hadn't formed properly and you couldn't survive. I'm so sorry that my body failed you and you didn't get what you needed from me to grow up big and strong. I would have given my right arm, my life and my soul for you if it would have helped to give you what you needed to be okay. Somedays I am so angry because I know that there was nothing I could do to help you after we found out that you weren't okay. 

That one week we waited between scans, was the longest week of our lives. Did you hear daddy when he told you about all the places in the world he would like to show you? Did you hear me when I sang to you? You are still my sunshine and I hope that you'll know how much I love you and always will. I am so very sad today because my sunshine was taken from me. 

I want you to know that I'm not afraid to talk about you, my darling girl. I don't have any photos of you to show the world, to tell them here she is, my little Pippy. But like any mother I know, I want the world to know that you were here, no matter however briefly you were able to stay. And everyone who hears about you knows how much we loved you. I wish you could hear us talk about you. 

I hope you are in heaven where it's safe and warm. I hope that there are some very special angels there who can hold you when you're sad and tell you how much we love and miss you every single day. I hate the thought of you being alone. Maybe some day you will come back to us as our rainbow baby. Or maybe you're transformed now and you will stay to look over your family.Wherever you are, I hope you are okay and know love.

I've cried so many tears for you sweetheart and just when I think I'm all out of tears, there comes some more. I miss you so very, very much. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about you and wonder why all of this happened. 

The other day I was in a store and felt someone watching me. I looked up and saw this little figurine sitting on a shelf above me. I don't usually buy or collect figurines, so it was strange that I fell in love with this one straight away. I have been wondering what shape the wings on your heart blocks should be and when I looked at the wings on this little angel, I knew that they had to face up like hers. She sits on my desk and I look at her and think of you. I love her, but I wish I didn't need anything here to symbolise you. I wish you could still be here with us.

I miss you so much, Pippy.

I love you always and forever, to the moon and back,

Mummy xxx.

Threading lightly

So a few weeks ago, when I'd finished Pip's first block, I was still mulling over whether I should embroider all the blocks in the same thread, or whether I should be adventurous and use a different thread for each block. The idea was to match each element with a colour, so blue for the running wave in "Deep peace of the running wave to you". Maybe green or brown for the quiet earth in "Deep peace of the quiet earth to you" etc. 

This quilt is already quite colourful (I love colour, especially colour for a child's quilt), so maybe various colours would have fitted in seamlessly. But in the end, my anal attention to detail also known sometimes as my perfectionism, won the day. I decided that it would look the best in one colour throughout not nine.

So during our lunch break at work, we drove down to a craft supplies store and found the perfect match. I chose the same colour with a slight sheen to it because I'm (sometimes) a raven and I like shiny things. I also found this cute little embroidery hoop (100mm) which will be great to focus on each word at a time.

I'd already started embroidering the second block with a greyish coloured thread, but was happy to unpick that and start again with the new version. I'm not sure if anyone will notice the difference between the thread in the first block and the second, but if it starts to bug me, then I will probably redo the first block in this thread. I have 800 glorious metres of it on this reel so don't have to panic if I make a mistake and need more. Besides, I always know where to get more.

As I get started on the unpicking and redoing, I'm thinking of all the other angel babies out there. I wonder what they're doing on a day like today. The rain has come and gone and so has the sun. Does heaven have weather? I love laying in bed and listening to the sound of the rain, so I hope it isn't always just sunny there. Besides, one of the most fun things about being a kid (big or little) is playing in the rain and dancing through puddles. I hope heaven has puddles too and gum boots.

October 15th

I'm sad to admit that before any of this happened, I had no idea that October 15th was pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day. I'm sure that had I known, I would have been sad for all the families out there who had experienced such pain.

But now, that pain is personal. That pain is my pain and that loss is my loss. Our loss. Although October 15th is only really recognised officially in the US and in Canada, I believe the UK is starting to recognise it too. But as far as I know, we're still behind here in Australia. I signed a petition the other day to bring this to the attention of the leaders of our country.

The statistics tell us that 1 in 4 experience this loss. If you think about that for a second that almost means on average, for a small-ish family it's roughly 1 per family. For an average family, 2-3 and for a large family more. So why is it still known as the "silent grief"? 

Why are we not talking about this some more? Why do mums and dads, grandparents, brothers and sisters have to fumble their way to help when it is so common? Why do doctors not have resources on supports available for families ready to hand out? 

Life is too short to stuff around. It's time for families to stop grieving in silence and to think they're alone. When we found out about Pip, we felt alone too. I was lucky that I was part of a very supportive online network and was able to be linked in pretty quickly with other mums who had experienced the same sort of loss. Together we cry and together we talk about our babies. We talk about the love we have for them and our hopes for them. I honestly don't know what I would have done without the love and support I found with these beautiful ladies. My hope is that all families affected with this loss find the support and strength they need in those awful times.

So come on world, let's break the silence on miscarriage, infant loss and stillbirth starting now. If you are a fellow parent who has experienced this, or if you are a supporter, especially if you're on a social networking site like facebook or twitter, it won't take much effort to change your profile picture to an image similar to the one above to get people talking about October 15th, to spread the word and to maybe, just maybe, help someone who is struggling with it not feel so alone in their grief.