I’ve got tears that are scared of the facts…

My baby was the size of a large olive. Almost all of her vital organs were formed. She had tiny finger nail buds & her body was covered in fine hair. And now she’s gone. 

So, I’m writing my emotions because I can’t bring myself to verbalise them & they have to escape somehow. 

With my health & my history this wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t make it any less shocking. Being pregnant again was scary. It felt unreal to begin with, but I had started to believe that this was my time. The fear never left me, but the hope grew. 

I felt very pregnant. I still do, which seems particularly unfair. Sickness & nausea & cramps & sore nipples & peeing or crying every two minutes. Strong smells became my nemesis. I haven’t even been able to wear my own perfume. Pregnancy ruled out almost all of my normal meds. I’ve basically felt horrendous but been delighted to suffer. All the pain & discomfort meant my body was doing the very thing I didn’t think it could do. I worried about every twinge, but I also relished them. 

I felt like we were having a girl. He never said so, but I think maybe the toy boy did too. We talked about girl’s names so much more than boy’s. I talked & thought too much about too many things. 

Names & maternity clothes. 

The best way to tell my neice & when to tell the rest of the world. 

Which stories to read at bedtime & what songs might lull my baby to sleep. 

Painting tropical leaves in the nursery & learning all that baby wearing stuff. 

I really thought this was it. All the stars looked aligned. I got caught up in believing that I could have this & amongst the heartbreak I feel furious. I’m so angry with myself for not protecting the most vulnerable part of me. I’m angry that my body won’t do what comes naturally to so many. I’m angry that I have failed again. I’m angry that the world keeps doing this to me. 

Behind the anger is real fear. I am so scared that I can’t get through this again & even more frightened that this will be my only experience of pregnancy. The idea that carrying a life will always end in loss is overwhelming. I’ve worked so hard not to be overwhelmed by what life has forced upon me. I’m terrified of losing myself in madness once more. 

I’m still very much in the process of losing this baby. I know she’s gone, but my body doesn’t seem aware of it. I still feel pregnant. I don’t feel able to take any of the meds that I know will make this easier because I haven’t detached from the need to protect this little life. I have avoided speaking to even those closest to me because I’m just not ready to completely let go of my beautiful dream.  I’ve been able to do this partly due to the support of my lovely toy boy. To be taken care of without having to ask is a powerful thing. Having a companion in this is a new experience & a huge blessing (a word that will have him shaking his head), but it’s true. 

I feel much less alone. This child feels acknowledged & important. That’s a both a comfort and fuel for my guilt. I am aware that I am culpable for creating the situations that led to my boy not mattering to others in the same way. I’m also clear that it is my body that failed them. It’s acutely painful to live with that knowledge; no matter how unwilling the neglect. 

Isolation isn’t the answer. I know that, but I need some time. I have to let my body & my heart get used to the idea that I won’t be nurturing this child into life. I appreciate everyone’s patience. 

You & I…

Dear Son,

I’ve been trying to keep low key busy today; house work, catching up on emails & so on. I have hoped to keep myself from sinking too deep into sadness. 
I’ve actually done quite well. I had a cry in the shower, but the water washed those tears away. There was no evidence left for anyone else to see, which is like you. Gone. Without a trace.

So, I’ve taken a lot of deep breaths & whispered to myself that I’m ok.

I’m ok

I’m ok

I’m ok.

And I am. More so than I’ve ever been since I lost you. I think maybe I can try again. Perhaps, I can do this life thing. I wish I could believe that would heal me, but you’re not a wound. The pain is bittersweet. 

I’ve been wondering what my life would be like with a 16yr old. Louder, grumpier, more complicated? I’ll never know how our life would been. I do know I’d have given you my best. I’m also sure that you’re worth it. The short time I held you within me will always be worth all the rest. 

Now, you’ve got me crying again. My tears are inevitable, as is my love. Inevitable & invincible. No matter what happens there will forever be you & I. 

Love always,

Mum

The time is now…

I’m lying on my bed with the sun streaming in my window having a lazy morning. I’m planning dinner in my head & pondering what colour to paint my nails, when it happens. A vivid flashback, of a day like this, but 16yrs ago. 

  
Like today I am resting on my bed observing the sunny world outside. Unlike today, back then I had a life growing inside me. I can smell the incense I used to burn in the flat & see the steeple of the church at the the end of the street. I feel the warmth on my face, the ache in my back & the love pounding through my veins. 

As fast as it strikes, it wanes. Part of me wants to cling to those sensations, the rest still finds these memories tender. I’ve been having these flashes a lot lately. They’re not new to me; I’ve been living with PTSD for a long time. This wasn’t a bad one, but it still leaves me feeling sadder than I did before. I’ve been thinking about why these bolts into the past have become so frequent of late & I think I know the answer.

For the first time in a very long time I am making baby plans. I have always wanted to be a Mummy. The loss only increased that desire. For years I’ve watched friends & family create beautiful little people. It’s never been the right time for me. Well, I’m 35 now and life never really gets any simpler. There is no right time. There will never be a perfect set of circumstances. So, the time is now. 

  
Or the time for planning is now. I’m getting my self and my life in shape for baba. It’s a little scary, but I don’t have any doubts. My life will never feel complete without children. It’s going to be a long campaign, but Operation Baby is go. 

Homeward Bound….

I have a recurring dream.

A dream of such contentment that whilst asleep I am cradled in bliss. 

It’s a simple dream,

I am home, in bed.

The room is dark, but lit with a blue glow,

I feel a gentle breeze

& the happy purr of my cat vibrates beside me. 

My hand rests on my firm, round belly,

caressing the life that resides within.

In the distance I hear Simon & Garfunkel singing about where love lies waiting.

I am blanketed in happiness.

As the music grows closer,

I approach reality.

I bask in the feeling for a few magical seconds before sadness drowns me.

I realise as I rise to start my day where home is for me

And how much I long to be,

Homeward bound. 

You’ll be on my mind forever…

Today always creeps up on me. One minute it’s months away & then it’s here. I dread it’s arrival because I know it will unleash emotions that I try to keep chained up. September 12th would have been my child’s birthday. 

Today should be all presents & cake & surprises. Instead it’s a wound that never entirely heals. Of course life goes on. I live & there is joy, pride, love, but there is always a tinge of sadness. It hurts to miss the milestones & the everyday moments. The pain can catch me unaware & take my breath away. There are times when every aspect of my life feels wrong because this is not how I’d be living with my precious little one. 

  
It’s such an incredible feeling to know there is life inside you. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I knew immediately that I was pregnant. I knew before my period was late & before I took a test. I felt it. It was scary, unplanned, badly timed, but still so right. I became a mother in an instant & that feeling has never left me.

Yes, it’s painful to remember; it also helps. It’s easier for me to acknowledge today. It’s good to talk out loud about the person who changed my life without having a chance to live his. 

If love could have saved you darling, you’d have lived forever. 

Listen…

I want to talk to you about something that isn’t often discussed. In a world where almost nothing is taboo miscarriage remains an uncomfortable topic. I know from personal experience that friends and family are often unsure how to approach such a loss. A misplaced belief that a mother’s (&her partner’s) privacy must be maintained or worry that bringing up the subject will cause distress can leave a grieving parent feeling isolated. I’d like to open up the subject, share my experience & hopefully change your thoughts on how best to support a friend who has suffered a miscarriage.

I cannot stress enough how important it is to acknowledge a person’s loss. Miscarriage feels like a death, you have lost a life that you created & have already given your heart to. Let your loved one feel that pain out in the open. Treat this grief as you would any other. Send flowers, a sympathy card, be available to listen. Acknowledge that the child who hasn’t made it into our world is real. To feel that those around you care for not only you, but your unborn child is a crucial part of the healing process.

There is no rule book for recovering from miscarriage. Some people need to throw themselves into work or a busy social schedule. Others may require time alone to process what has happened. There is no right way, listen to what your friend tells you they want & support them. Whether that is getting raucously drunk or cuddling them whilst they cry. There are so many complicated emotions attached to losing a child. I felt a crippling guilt. I know others who have felt rage & some people who accepted the loss as part of their path or an act of god. There is no correct way to feel. As irrational as these responses may seem to you, let your friend feel what they feel. Listen, reassure, but never judge. Each person knows what is appropriate for them, respect that.

Miscarriage is a life changing event. Conceiving again does not wipe out the loss. Your unborn baby can’t be replaced. For me a permanent memorial was necessary. Many people need to commemorate their baby. Be it tattoos, planting a tree or a gathering do not shy away from involvment in these acts of love. Allow you friend to carry their child with them.

Don’t assume that miscarriage is best kept secret. In the immediate aftermath & in the years that have followed, I have wanted to talk about my experiences with miscarriage. Sadly, I haven’t always felt that I was allowed to do so. My loss was treated as something that must remain private. Whilst I am sure this attitude was well meaning, it left me unable to express emotions that I felt suffocated by. If your friend, family member, colleague or even a stranger on a bus wants to talk about their miscarriage, please let them. You cannot imagine how freeing it is to let out the tumult of thoughts in your head. 

Miscarriage is not a rare occurrence. Many women will have to find their route through its consequences. This post is based on my personal experience & the consensus of the many women I have known who have had the misfortune to share that experience. Of course there will be parents who have differing views. I can’t speak for everyone. Ultimately you must trust that each indivdual knows what they need & follow their lead. However, I do hope that some what I have written has given you pause for thought. Moreover it’s my wish that my suggestions will ease this painful journey for others.

   

 

 

 

I wear it like a tattoo….

Body modifications have always appealed to me. I have only gone so far as piercings & tattoos, but more extreme mods still interest me. I’ve experimented quite a bit with piercings from traditional ears to belly button to finger piercings. I’ve had a fair few rejected piercings, but seem to have finally got the found exactly which types my body will accept. I consider my body art to be a big part of my style. I think they perfectly compliment my quirky tastes.

At the moment I have 13 different piercings & I thought I’d give you a look at the more interesting one. I shall start with my scaffold. I’ve had this one for around 3yrs & I love it now. However, it is definitely not the easiest of my piercings. It is a little painful as its two holes through cartilage, but the main issue is healing time. Mine took a long time, well over a year, to be completely healed. If you’re looking for low maintenance perhaps not the thing for you. It does look pretty striking though.
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Next up, my boob piercing. I tend to be drawn to anything that’s a tad unusual. I don’t want to look just like everyone else, which is probably part of why I indulge in body mods in the first place. This is my favourite piercing. Mainly because I’ve never seen anyone else with one & I am told it’s pretty damn sexy. This is a micro dermal, so it’s semi-permanent. My body is unlikely to tolerate it forever, but they can last for several years. I wear a diamanté and I adore the tiny sparkle when wearing low cut outfits. It adds to funky twist to a little black dress.

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I have another couple of micro dermals sitting just below my collar bone. I had the first done in Brisbane & it was so cute that I decided to have another when I got home. These beauties have kick started the piercing bug again. I expect I will end up with them dotted all over my body. I wear plain silver jewellery in these as I think the simple look is more effective.

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Tattoos are very personal for me. All of my body art means something very particular. As a writer & an avid reader I have always found the written word to be the easiest & best way to express my feelings, therefore my tats are all text. I have another planned & it too will be words in the form of poetry. So far I have five tattoos. I am incredibly happy with all of them.

My first foray into ink was many years ago. I started with the word imagine on my right foot. I am always being told that foot tattoos are really painful, but that hasn’t been my experience. I didn’t find the foot to be significantly more painful than any other part of my body. I started small & classic, which I think was a wise decision. I am obviously a huge Lennon fan, but also fascinated with the power of imagination. I enjoy carrying a little bit of my hero around with me every day. More importantly I have a whisper of my ideals stamped on my body.

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Having dipped my toe into the tattoo world I quickly wanted to immerse myself. I suppose I decided to continue from my feet up, as my next tat was on my left foot. This one was more cathartic as it marks the loss of my baby. I wanted to commemorate my boy without being morbid. I opted for roman numerals of what would have been his date of birth. In the aftermath of my miscarriage I struggled with having very few concrete reminders of my baby. This tattoo helped with the healing process & allowed me to have him visibly with me, always. The art work of this tattoo is again simple, but I find it beautiful.

My next tattoo marks the life of an extraordinary woman. Jo was a very dear friend who tragically took her life. She fought hard against cruel circumstances. No matter how much pain she endured she always brought kindness & warmth to those around her. She saved me & many others; it is an enormous tragedy that we couldn’t do the same for her. Jo was a beautiful person. As a proud New Zealander she would routinely sign off notes & emails with the Maori greeting, arohanui. It means ‘big love’, something she always endeavoured to spread. I wanted a tribute to this remarkable friend & arohanui seemed right. I actually chose characters from a few complimentary fonts & put them together in the hope of making my tattoo unique. Aesthetically I think it works. As an act of love I feel it succeeds too.

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I am keen on an element of balance, so I placed my fourth tattoo on my opposite arm. This piece is inspired by favourite poetry & prose. The fact that this line appeared in two favourite works is a lovely coincidence. It makes the quote doubly dear to me. I studied the cycle of poetry, die schone mullerin by Wilhelm Müller at university and was struck by the beauty of the words. Shortly after my first exposure I discovered ‘the travelling hornplayer’ by Barbara Trapido and revelled in the way she referenced the poetry. This line stood out as it reflected the tone of my own life at that time. It accurately expressed things I had been scrambling to put to into words. The melancholy, romance & hope infused in the words sung to me. I knew I wanted to mark my body with it. To add a piece of me to the design I had the tattoo in my own hand writing. Again hoping that this ensured no one would ever have an identical piece.

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the stars are too high

 

My most recent body art is taken from the bible. An odd choice for a person who rejects organised religion. It’s taken from Isiah, but has no religious connotations for me. My gran was a practising catholic & this quote hung on a plaque by her front door. It’s something I vividly remember from my childhood. These simple words embody so much of what my gran meant to me. They say love, safety & acceptance. They also encapsulate the lasting influence our relationship has had on me.

 

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I will never forget you

I have carved you on the palm of my hand.

 

Sade Like a tattoo