Lynne: Right Where I Am 2015: 1 year 10 months 2 weeks 1 day

Sometimes I feel like the last couple of years have been a dream; so much has happened it’s hard to believe it’s real.  This time two years ago I was happily pregnant with my first baby.  We were excited for the future and could never for one second have imagined the outcome.  There was no possible way to know that in around six weeks time from that point we would go for our anomaly scan and our world would fall apart as we were told our baby was too sick to survive.  On 20th July 2013 we held our beautiful tiny baby son, Findlay, in our arms.  He never breathed our air but even at that point I knew I would never be the same person I was before.

Now, almost two years later, the pain is still there, maybe not as raw as it was in the beginning but it never goes away.  Somehow, with a lot of help (special thanks to my counsellor Jeni at SANDS Lothians for this one) I have learned to live with it.  The absolute best healing has, however, come from my beautiful rainbow baby, Cameron, who has made me smile like I never thought I would ever again.  Born three days before his big brother’s 1^st birthday, the last 10 and a half months have been the happiest of my life.  Yet, with everything, bittersweet.  It’s hard not to wish that Cameron had a big brother who was here physically that he could play with and giggle with.  It’s hard not to look at Cameron and wonder if his big brother would have the same big bright blue eyes and blonde hair which is starting to develop the sweetest little curls.

I am a mother of two but only hold one baby in my arms.  I have lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked that oh so innocent question ‘is he your first?’.  At first I wanted the ground to swallow me up not wanting the other person to feel awkward, however, slowly I am learning to respond with honesty and tell them that my first baby died.  I am sorry if this makes the other person feel awkward but that is the reality I have to live with every day of my life and I will never deny either of my children.  I love them equally and they have both enriched my life in so many ways.

I feel blessed to have had the pleasure of spending even the shortest of times with Findlay and having the chance to create so many precious memories.  He is and always will be my true inspiration.  I feel blessed to have the chance to watch his little brother, Cameron, grow and develop every day, he is and always will be my world.

I always wanted two children so I could watch them grow up together.  Sadly that is not to be so right where I am is trying to decide whether I will, at any stage, be brave enough to embark on the rollercoaster of another rainbow journey.

(written 4th June 2015)

Clara: Right Where I Am 2015: 4 years 3 months 1 day followed by 3 years 2 months 11 days

I wasn't going to write a post this year. I've been thinking and thinking and just couldn't find the words. I didn't really know where to start. I still don't but I was at the girls' grave today and felt I had to come home and write. Just some musings... no literary greatness... just some thoughts.

I remember thinking my title to these should always be much longer…

4 years 9 months followed by 4 years 3 months 1 day followed by 4 years followed by 3 years 2 months 11 days followed by 2 years 7 months

Just sounds ridiculous. Sad. Stupid. Depressing.  Honestly? I still can't believe that it is my story, that it all happened to me. I think I lived in a daze for a long time.

I struggled with the lead up to the girls' birthdays this year, much more so than ever before. A few days before Molly's birthday I opened an app on my phone: Timehop, 4 years ago today... my status was about a day we spent in St Andrew's. Great start to the holidays I said. I remember it clearly right down to the clothes we were both wearing. It was a beautiful warm day, we walked along the beach, I felt Molly moving. We were so full of hopes and dreams and so very happy.

Two days later she was gone and was then born on the 14th. Just reading that gave me a great big slap and I felt it right in my guts again. I struggled to keep it together for the next few days. I was such a different person then. I'll never be that girl again. I can see myself in my head on that day, so happy and so carefree. That day I just felt that it was all just shit. Those two little girls will always be missing. People just don't get that.

And then of course came the guilt. After all the loss, I was now in the position where I was a mummy to a living, breathing child. The most amazing little girl who has brought so much joy, laughter and healing into our lives. And here I was in a crying mess. What good does that do for the little miracle now here?

So I guess where I am right now is balancing the juggling act that is mothering 3 children in 2 entirely different ways: 1 who is here and 2 who are not. And realising that it is okay to still have days when I am sad. Mostly I am incredibly grateful, as always, for my little rainbow and for the support around us from friends and family. I am incredibly blessed.

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You can read my previous Right Where I Am posts by clicking on the links below:

Right Where I Am 2014: 3 years 3 months followed by 2 years 2 months 1 week
Right Where I Am 2013: 2 years 2 months 2 weeks followed by 1 year 2 months
Right Where I Am 2012: 1 year 2 months followed by 1 month 10 days

You can read more about my condition and my story here:

Massive Perivillous Fibrinoid Deposition
My Story
When loss keeps on happening...

Laura: Right Where I Am 2015: 2 weeks 1 day

Everyone thinks I'm doing well and being brave. They tell me I'm an inspiration, that I'm strong and how well I've handled all of this.

I think it's because my heart is so broken that I want to hide it away from everyone else and pretend I'm going to be ok.

But I'm not.

My arms ache for you so much. You may of been born sleeping at 21 weeks, but I can feel that you are missing from my life, my beautiful daughter Gabrielle.

Through the day, out of nowhere, it will suddenly feel like a hole has been punched through my chest and like my throat is closing up. I just want to fall to my knees and beg with the sky to give you back to me and to see you open your eyes.

Just to hold you again.

I've even thought about just walking for hours and hours like I might somehow find you. Or climbing hills so maybe I'm closer to you.

I know you're there watching over us, but right now that isn't enough for me and it doesn't stop my deep longing to have you in my arms.

I watch your big brother Logan playing and I feel so sad that you'll never meet him. That my body let us down.

I'm a mix of so many emotions and thoughts, but I have to lock them all away for the day as best as I can. If I cry Logan cries. So I have to hide everything until all those feelings creep up on me once I'm in bed at night.

I wish I could come and be with you, even just for a few minutes. I think you took a part of my heart with you the day you left me.

I know I'll learn to live broken hearted, Logan will keep my heart warm, but it will always be broken. But one day when I'm old and its my time, I'll finally be whole again when we are together.

Until then, I will do my best to be what everyone thinks I am; strong, brave. And I will carry on even when my heart is so broken and heavy, just for you.

xxx

(written 29th June 2015)

Lauren: Right Where I Am 2015: 4 years 8 months

I don't feel like I've moved on much since last year. I could copy and paste my entry and it still be relevant now. I suppose that is where I am. I don't know if I will ever feel any different. I'm in a place that although I still cry I don't do so often and afterwards I'm so good at hiding it that no one would ever know I'd cried. Then sometimes I feel guilty for this. Like I'm wiping away her memory with my tears. It's not ok that she has gone but I'm ok. Bereaved but not broken.

I wish I knew how to move forward as it is a strange and somewhat (looking for the right word, bitter? no) begrudging and resentful acceptance I feel. Maybe next year will be different but I doubt it. Maybe how I feel it the end of the rollercoaster of emotions and I'll feel like this the rest of my life? The life of a loss mum is not one anyone wants or is even willing to think about in their happy world but I live it. Sometimes with a heavy heart or sometimes with happy memories depending on my mood.

I've come a long way since those early days. Life moves on,  the world keeps turning but a part of me longs to go back. As time goes on I feel like I'm leaving her behind. My baby died. But I've come so far that it surprises me. 4 years and 8 months feels like lifetime. I can't remember the early days of loss. Like I was a robot, the lights off and wandering through shadows. My brain adjusting to the pain.

Occasionally I have moments of 'what if ......?' But I try not to. My rainbow was born 5 days before my angels first birthday and I find it hard to wish for her back knowing that had she lived I wouldn't have my boy now 3. I wouldn't swap, I couldn't choose between them. My youngest boy, nearly 2, still looks like her. I want them all.

We've decided to try again next year and the thought of a little brother or sister joining her is putting me off ordering her headstone as I'd want them buried together. I'm not superstitious or usually so pessimistic but I can't shake the feel of dread. I've lost the naivety.

I hope some of that ramble made sense. I'm sorry for all your losses.

Hugs,

Lauren x

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You can read Lauren's previous post here:

Right Where I Am 2014: 3 years 8 months