lost mama

I recently had a email from a babylost mama. She found my blog and wrote to thank me for sharing my experience. And she told me about hers. Still very raw and new, she is feeling lost and alone in a country far from her home. People don't want to talk about her baby. No support or counselling was offered. 'They' didn't think it was a good idea for her to hold her precious baby. I could feel her intense pain and loneliness and anger through her writing. I cried thinking about her birth experience and about how she felt so alone.

I wrote to her and told her that she is not alone, that we are here and the we understand. We really understand. I told her that we will talk about her baby with her and scream with her and sometimes hate the world with her.

I told her we would take care of her.

I have not heard back. I need to know that she is OK. Not OK, as no-one here is 'OK' but you know what I mean.

If you are there, please just let me know how you are going.

You are not alone, even though at times you feel such an indescribable loneliness.

We are here with you on this awful journey.

six

Today is 6 months since Alice was born.
Born because of complications beyond any ones control.
Born at 20 weeks. Tiny and perfect.
Tomorrow is 6 months since Alice died.
Died because of complications beyond any ones control.
She has been dead now longer than she was alive, safe inside me.
A nightmare.
Everyday.
Remembering, grieving, thinking about what should have been.
Thinking about how everything has changed.
But how everyone else has stayed the same.
Knowing that I will always think about her every day.
Wondering if other people will.
Trying to never forget every little detail about her.
Trying to forget the baby urns and coffins at the funeral home.
Thinking about the other babies and their mama's.
Wishing with all my heart that this doesn't happen to any of us again.
Gratefull that I can share her here with people that understand.
Sad everyday that I will never be able to hold her again.

warmth

I remember holding Alice, holding her close to keep her warm. I wrapped her, adding extra layers around her tiny little body, trying to keep out the cold. I spoke softly to her, my warm whispers settling on her cheeks. Holding her delicate perfect face to mine.

They dressed her in a pink knitted hat and jacket. Keeping her warm. I made her a quilt. To keep her warm.

I tried so hard but, nothing I could do would stop it.

The cold came slowly creeping in, forcing out the warmth, taking over Alice and the room and our lives.

other people

I sent a message to an old acquaintance last week asking after her baby that had been due in February. I also told her about a mutual acquaintance, updating her on the birth of her daughter. I thought I had better say that Alice had died as the last time I bumped into her, we were both happily pregnant. I thought it would be odd if I didn't say something, given that I imagine she would have been wondering about our baby.

So she then called. I asked after her baby and we chatted about our mutual acquaintance. We chatted about some other people we knew. Then I explained, that although it must have been a little shocking, I needed to let her know about Alice in that message. Then she told me that she knew as she ran into my best friend last year and she had told her about Alice. She said knew all about it but said that she was 'too chicken to call as it was just all too difficult.'

I said that it was OK and for her not to feel bad.

But, what I felt like saying was 'you have no idea what 'too difficult' is.'

What I should have said was that even if you cry, if you can't find the words and if you feel like vomiting, the next time you know someone who has a baby that dies, you damn well call them or send a card.