Monday, 28 February 2011

To never hold you



I'm angry tonight. I'm angry because I can't hold you. I'll never be able to hold you in my arms or smell the milky sweet scent of your head. I'm angry because I don't even have a grave to visit. The thought of never holding you is like the thought of everything that ever was turning to dust. It. Is. Not. Fair.

Yesterday, I watched a new mother show her newborn off to friends and family. She was passing that soft warm little body around... a bundle of joy that put a smile on everyone's face. She positively beamed with joy and pride. I watched for a while and noticed I was holding my breath... as if holding my breath would prevent my pain from spilling over.

I'm angry tonight. I'm so angry because my future was taken from me. The warmth of your love and the promise of a happily ever after... you took it all and ran. You speak as if we never were... as if our dead child never lived inside me for three months... Actually, you don't speak to me at all. It's easier to erase the past that way, isn't it?

They say I have to be strong and that I have so much to live for. That's what they say. I only believe them when I'm not angry and I'm angry oh so hot-poker-up-the-arse-of-god angry most minutes of most hours of the day that I sometimes feel I'll implode like some dying star. And. That. Would. Be. Grace.

Thursday, 24 February 2011

Another dream about Willow

Shortly after I miscarried baby Willow at 14 weeks due to Edward's syndrome (Trisomy 18), the baby's father left. He is running from the pain of the loss, refusing to deal with it. This is what I wish I could share with him:

Do you ever dream about her? I had another dream about her last night. We couldn't find her... after looking frantically everywhere, we found her sleeping peacefully in our bed. I picked her up and held her close to my heart, weeping with relief. She woke up and ate hungrily from the first breast... I burped her and tried to feed her from the second breast but she soon fell asleep again in my arms.

It was a sweet and realisitic dream... well, apart from the bit about us misplacing the baby... but I suppose that is realistic too since you and I don't talk about her. She feels very close right now. I hope you can feel her this way too and that you are comforted by her presence.

Friday, 7 January 2011

"Not compatible with life"

They tell parents who are expecting a baby diagnosed with Edwards Syndrome (T18) that the diagnosis is 'not compatible with life' and if they don't tell you in so many words, they strongly argue for termination regardless.

I never considered my baby 'not compatible with life' - I considered her 'not compatible with death'. Now that she's gone, I consider myself 'compatible with death' though...

I have no clue how to make my way through this grief. I'm lucky I already have children. I should be grateful for what I have. I'm lucky that Willow is no longer suffering. I'm grateful that I never had to make a decision to terminate... Willow quietly slipped away and we found out that her heart had stopped on New Year's Eve. I am grateful that the medical side of things went well... Physically, I'm not suffering... but I feel like I should be. Why do I still have a pulse when hers stopped?

I want to be where my angel is. I miss her so much and I feel so so very empty.

In the real world, people don't want to know about the loss of a child. We are expected to suffer in silence. A dead baby is nobody's business. Without the memories of life, all it does is to remind us of our own mortality - the brevity of our life span... and perhaps about the lack of meaning... or, more accurately, the total nonsense that is the 'meaning' we try to give our lives by making a name for ourselves and gaining approval through our actions in the world.

But I have the memory of holding my very tiny baby in the palm of my hand. I have the memory of meeting her spirit in my dreams. I have heard the voice of her soul and I don't know how to make it stay.... When the placenta wouldn't come out and the blood didn't seem to want to stop gushing out of me, I secretly wished for it to flow until I too could slip away... to be with her, to be spared some of the pain. I'm not proud of it... but I finally know just to what degree death can be mercy now.

I was rushed to theatre for evacuation and it went well - they managed to stop the bleeding. And yes, I was grateful to still be alive when I came out of general anesthesia... I held on to all that was good about life, almost as if someone had reminded me of the reason to live when I was unconscious... the love I share with those still here.

The hospital gave us certificate of her birth. It had her time of birth and it states "Willow, daughter of Lisa and Terry - born silent at 9.28 AM on the 5th of January, 2011." I wanted her ashes but they said she is so small there will be nothing left - she more or less evaporates... So in a sense, she is everywhere. But I already knew that. Everything reminds me of her. Everything.

Sunday, 2 January 2011

The Story of the Willow Tree as told by Sandy Herbert-Simpson

Artist's page on Etsy


"Blessings to you Idun.

My oldest daughters name is Willow and when we told my parents of our choice in names my father told me a story that he knew. We have Celtic ancestry so it may be a Celtic story but it also may be Dene Native from up in the north of Canada because my father spent many many years working up there ( I wish I knew its origins, sorry). I thought you would like to hear it.

The story goes that the Willow tree was once a young woman who could not bear a child, she tried and tried and always her babies would never take breath or be born at all. So sad was she that she prayed to the Great Mother for an answer. She sat on the river bank and wept for days waiting for her answer. The Great Mother came to her and told her that sometimes this is the way of the world and that is was not because of her or to punish her it just was. Well the woman could not understand this or why it must just be, so she told The Great Mother how unfair she was to be so cruel to the woman, The Great Mother replied that she was not being cruel and unfair to the young woman that many women live this truth. The woman told The Great Mother that she just could not bear this knowledge at all and that she would always be consumed with sorrow and grief for those women and herself and so the Great Mother turned her into a Willow tree to weep for all of the unborn children and the grief that their mothers have for them for eternity.

When you said you had named your daughter Willow I remembered this story and thought it was so fitting :) that she be named for the tree that stands and weeps for all of the unborn children. I hope this story helps a little.

May the Goddess always smile upon you and yours.
Sandy
Avalonschild"

Sandy - Thank you so much for sharing this with me and for giving me permission to share it on the blog!

The Angel Baby Hope Project


My angel baby Willow inspired me to start a new Facebook page called the Angel Baby Hope Project and to gather stories from those of you who have lost a baby before they drew their first breath but have received spirit communication and evidence of their existence from the great beyond. Our hope is to gather enough stories to publish a book that can be given as a gift of hope to anyone who has lost a baby through miscarriage, termination due to medical reasons or stillbirth.

Your angel watches over you and the love we have for our little ones is strong enough to bridge the gap between worlds ♥

Please share your stories on the wall and email me your full story from the point of conception to where you received evidence of life on the other side of the veil if you would like to be part of the book project.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

Grace



Grace wears black sometimes, when she wants us to grow our souls to make room for more love and compassion...

The night before we found out that Willow's heart had stopped beating, I had two dreams. In the first dream, someone had sent me a grief councelling package through the post. It was red with white hearts on and there were baby shoes inside it. Another scene of the same dream hade me lying on a table, shaking with grief, wailing like a mad person.

The day before was one of the most difficult days of my life. I knew we were losing our baby, and amidst all the grief I was taken over by a rage such as I had never known before. It was as if all the pain that every mother had felt since the dawn of time had been poured into me... and I rebelled against it with fire and blind rage. I was Lilith and Kali, and I wanted the world to burn to the ground. I allowed the fires to consume me so that I could be reborn, so that I could rise from the ashes like the phoenix.

It wasn't pretty to behold and my beloved got caught in the firestorm. I was out of control for a while and everything about me was destruction... but the rage only lasted for a few hours because I didn't try to resist or push it down.

The second dream spoke of my animal nature - the instincts that take over when someone or something threatens our offspring. In this dream, my cat was being mauled by a dog. I spotted this from my bedroom window and went outside to try to rescue my cat. The dog then turned on me and started biting me. I woke up mid attack. I instantly knew that this dream represented two aspects of my psyche at war with one another.

The cat is my feminine, instinctual self and the dog is the masculine, logical part of me. As I was faced with the choice to terminate a pregnancy that would only end in suffering the two voices inside me went something like this:

Dog: "Termination is the merciful thing to do. You will prevent much suffering. Don't be so selfish. Think of the kind of suffering these babies are put through. Think of your partner. Remember, you had already discussed the eventuality of what to do if the baby was diagnosed with T18 - don't let your emotions get in the way of doing what is right and humane."

Cat: "Fuck off. Mother Nature knows what She is doing. Stupid dog. Trust your body."

By the time of the dream, the voice of the cat had been silenced by the demise of my baby and there was nothing I could do about it. But in the end, the cat won - Mother Nature had the final word... and I didn't have to make a choice no mother should ever have to be faced with.

Thanks to these two dreams, I was prepared for the results of the final ultrasound scan.

When I woke up in the morning, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for the decision to be taken away for us by either a miracle of healing or for the baby to go to heaven. Even as I prayed, I knew this was no 'baby soul' but an ancient teacher who had come to grace us with her presence for a spell. I also knew that there would be no healing miracle. I know what they feel like and there was none of that going on.

 Me on New Year's Eve 2010 at 14+1, hours before the final scan

As we were on the way to the hospital, I heard Willow speak. She responded to some thoughts I had about my partner, giving me a more balanced view of what was happening. I don't know how long she will be with me in this way, but I am so very grateful for her presence.

Willow herself gave us her name. This has been confirmed - twice. First my sister told me that she and her partner had decided to plant a willow tree next to a lake, unbeknownst of the fact that 'Beanie' now had a real name. I found out when I rang her up to tell her of the results of the scan. She is going to dedicate this tree to our Willow.

This morning, I found out that a FB friend of mine had only just decided to plant a willow tree too. She said she would think of our Willow when planting it.

Spirit has many ways of making itself manifest. I marvel at the syncronicity here... but I'm not surprised. This is, after all the, same baby girl who appeared to me twice in my dreams already, giving me the sweetest baby kisses... allowing me to know her love for me in a way that surpasses anything I'm able to describe in words... but maybe, if you close your eyes for a moment and allow Willow to come to you... then maybe you will feel her love too.

The past couple of weeks since the 12 week scan have been hell in so many ways, yet I feel so very graced by it all. That doesn't mean that the pain is gone... or that there isn't plenty more to come. I have yet to go to the hospital for induced labour on Monday and Wednesday next week... But Willow lives and she will never have to know pain. All she knew in my womb was unconditional love. That is all she received and all she gave. She is real, alive and I am blessed to know her. I am also blessed with three beautiful healthy children.

On top of all this, we have been showered with love and healing from so many friends. Thank you! We are all connected through a huge web of love. This is real and all that matters in the end. I wouldn't know such love, had I not known the pain that precedes it.

Another FB friend of mine sent me the poem "In the Willow Shade" by Christina Rossetti (thanks, Stephanie!):

I sat beneath a willow tree,
Where water falls and calls;
While fancies upon fancies solaced me,
Some true, and some were false.

Who set their heart upon a hope
That never comes to pass,
Droop in the end like fading heliotrope
The sun's wan looking-glass.

Who set their will upon a whim
Clung to through good and ill,
Are wrecked alike whether they sink or swim,
Or hit or miss their will.

All things are vain that wax and wane,
For which we waste our breath;
Love only doth not wane and is not vain,
Love only outlives death.

A singing lark rose toward the sky,
Circling he sang amain;
He sang, a speck scarce visible sky-high,
And then he sank again.

A second like a sunlit spark
Flashed singing up his track;
But never overtook that foremost lark,
And songless fluttered back.

A hovering melody of birds
Haunted the air above;
They clearly sang contentment without words,
And youth and joy and love.

O silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Have you no purpose but to shadow me
Beside this rippled spring?

On this first fleeting day of Spring,
For Winter is gone by,
And every bird on every quivering wing
Floats in a sunny sky;

On this first Summer-like soft day,
While sunshine steeps the air,
And every cloud has gat itself away,
And birds sing everywhere.

Have you no purpose in the world
But thus to shadow me
With all your tender drooping twigs unfurled,
O weeping willow tree?

With all your tremulous leaves outspread
Betwixt me and the sun,
While here I loiter on a mossy bed
With half my work undone;

My work undone, that should be done
At once with all my might;
For after the long day and lingering sun
Comes the unworking night.

This day is lapsing on its way,
Is lapsing out of sight;
And after all the chances of the day
Comes the resourceless night.

The weeping willow shook its head
And stretched its shadow long;
The west grew crimson, the sun smoldered red,
The birds forbore a song.

Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves,
The ripple made a moan,
The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves;
And then I felt alone.

I rose to go, and felt the chill,
And shivered as I went;
Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still,
What more that willow meant;

That silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Which spent one long day overshadowing me
Beside a spring in Spring.


Wednesday, 29 December 2010

Edwards Syndrome - Trisomy 18

Doc phoned us today - a day early - with bad news. It's Trisomy 18, aka Edwards syndrome. My partner and I had already covered all eventualities and agreed that the only diagnosis that would lead to termination was this one. In a way it's kind of odd that we had already talked about this possibility since Edwards syndrome is quite rare - only 1 in 3000 conceptions and 1 in 6000 live births. 

I'm still in shock... A small voice is whispering 'What if they got it wrong?'... but then my intuition at the last scan was that the baby wasn't going to make it. The edema is covering the whole body. We're seeing the specialist again on Friday to discuss our options, but I've decided that the most merciful route is termination ASAP. That said... do I have it in me? I'm scared.

This is not a journey I ever expected to be on. How we take things for granted... Three healthy children, no miscarriages and you think you're immune to this stuff.  


It is a girl, by the way. I wanted to know. My dreams were right. Apparently girls have a slightly higher chance of making it to live birth, but even then most die within the first few days. Their short lives are sheer agony as pretty much nothing works the way it is supposed to. Forgive me, but I'm not prepared to allow that kind of suffering. Also, I feel that this baby wouldn't make it to live birth anyway since it already has hydrops fetalis.