Lost, found and waiting

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1st June 2015 came and went. Tonight I write about what should’ve been happening yesterday. It should’ve been a day to celebrate a 4th birthday party. This time 4 years ago, 1st June 2011, was the most important date on our family’s calendar that year. It was the due date of our first baby. But due date came and went without a baby. The baby wasn’t late, it just didn’t come. 11 weeks into that precious first pregnancy I had the most horrific experience of my life and lost the baby. In fact, it had already died in my body 5 weeks earlier but my body took a while to really give up on it. It’s what’s called a ‘missed miscarriage’. It’s a memory that I can’t fully shake and I still get the occasional flashback of discovering the bed sheets soaked in blood, lying unconscious on the living room floor, being put in an ambulance at crazy o’clock in the morning by two jolly paramedics who had just started their shift. I don’t think those kind of memories ever really go because they’re the kind of experiences that shock you to the core. 

So we should have a 4 year old now but we don’t. Instead we have a 3 and a bit year old and a 1 and a half year old. Our lives are full right now. Full of joy and happiness and I sincerely mean that. Most of the time it’s easy to forget the emptiness I felt during the weeks and months after we lost our baby. I still have a card written by a beautiful lady called Zoe just a few weeks after the miscarriage. In it she writes,

‘Although it doesn’t seem like it to us, our time here on earth is fleeting and for all eternity you will know and love this beautiful child that you’ve been unable to see right now … Our Lord is a faithful God and I pray and believe he will give you more children not in place of, but in addition to the baby He now has in Heaven’

She had faith to believe there would be more children at a time when, in all honesty, I couldn’t get over the cruelty and unfairness that the only child I did in fact really long for and want was the one that had been taken from me. She believed that I would meet that baby one day in Heaven. No one else had really said that to me in such plain words and I think that was the one idea that I really clung to for a long time afterwards. 

4 years on and a lot of reflecting later and I am still just as dumbfounded as to why God chose to take our first baby. I could come to a number of conclusions but I just haven’t. All I can really do is believe that God took over the growing, nurturing and loving of that tiny soul the second he took it from my body, gave it a new body and is having a whale of a time up in Heaven with my 4 year old. I don’t have to believe this but I choose to because I believe God is good. Complicated, but ultimately, GOOD. I know it’s at this point I divide my readership but remember it’s my story, not yours.

So, to the mummies who have children who were taken too soon, here are my thoughts:

I hope you don’t feel like it happened because you were a bad person, you did something wrong or you wouldn’t have been a good enough mummy right then. You would’ve been good. You would’ve been SO good to those babies. You may or may not have had the chance to know yourself as ‘mummy’ prior to or since but don’t let yourself forget the bond you felt during those pregnancies and the bond you most certainly would’ve had in life, now. I know you remember the miscarriage dates and the due dates just like me. I know you think about what he or she would’ve been like now. I know it looks from the outside like you’re ‘over it’ but there’s a part of you, big or small, that really isn’t and that’s okay. Because you’d be weird to be completely okay, right? I imagine, as straightforward or horrific as your experiences were you still get flashbacks because every bit of what you went through was downright wrong. But I hope you had a Zoe around you at the time who was able to inject a tiny bit of hope into your life that your baby is not lost from you forever, just for now while you’re here on Earth. Not lost. Just lost to us. Right now. If that’s a new idea, or one that you’ve dismissed as whimsical and airy-fairy, just stop for a minute and imagine your babies.

Found. Safe. Doing well. Growing. Waiting. Waiting for you.

I know, I know, it’s just an idea, a belief and really, we won’t know-know until we get there but, still, I’m clinging on to this idea 4 years later and, when it’s right, I look forward to telling my Earth babies all about their loved, lost and found big brother or sister who is waiting, patiently, to meet them.   

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