DDH: after spica

I remember…

by

I don’t think of you often, but when I do my hand caresses my tummy where you lived for such a short time before leaving this world behind.

I remember you on the day you should have been born and on the day you died and sometimes I hear a whisper in the wind and you squeeze the part of my heart that belongs to you, my baby I never got to meet.

We are still a family of five; if I hadn’t lost you I would have never had my Libby-Sue and life without my baby girl is simply not worth living.

But I remember,

I remember the joy of seeing the second blue line, I remember dreaming of a new born laying in my arms soon after Christmas. I remember choosing names, Sophie-Sue for a girl, Sue always for your beautiful Great Aunt who died the day before you did.

I remember the sadness on the sonographers face when she told me you had left and I remember the surprise when I moved to the ward to see I was not alone in my pain and hurt.

We waited in turn, six women in total, called as if on a register in turn to have our children removed from our bellies. Your Dad could only come so far and he waited as the hospital doors swung shut on his agonised face as I took the last steps with you as a physical part of me alone.

The coldness of the mask shocked me and the tears fell and a stranger squeezed my hand. I was told to breath and then I wouldn’t feel anything. The numbness possessed me and for a short time everything was gone. I awoke and an emptiness came over me and still my eyes wept.

I have never known a hurt like a silent miscarriage.

But I don’t think of you often now, but I still remember.

I still love what we lost.

45 thoughts on “I remember…”

  1. I feel your pain, sorrow and loss. I had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy which still hurts to this day. Every time I see a newborn baby or read of another pregnancy my mind goes back to the baby we lost. Sometimes I can go for weeks without thinking of little bean but that doesn’t mean you ever forget or stop loving something you lost and wanted so dearly. Hugs to you x

  2. Big hugs. I know exactly how you feel having suffered 2 myself. I don’t think of my babies as often as I used to, but I always remember the dates they were due and the dates they left us. Xxx

  5. oh blimey Jane, I wasn’t expecting that…..I have tears rolling down my face, both for you & the memories of being there twice myself …and also knowing that I had to go through that otherwise I wouldn’t now have Jack, just like you wouldn’t have Libby-Sue. I truly think that these things are sent to try us, just to make us think is it was what we truly wanted….and now we know it was.
    Thinking of you
    xx

  6. Beautiful post for a lost baby.

    If I hadn’t have lost my first I would not have the two I do now, I could even not be here myself since the night I went into early labour someone was murdered in the house I shared.

    My mum says everything happens for a reason and as painful as September is I always remember what came after x

  8. I just cried as I read this, worded so beautifully. I had a missed miscarriage which meant I dismt no as there were no signs, but like u I wouldn’t have meet Harley and I can bear thinking about that. Still hurts but your right it does get easier.

  9. What a beautifully written post and very moving.

    I’ve been there twice, one early spontaneous miscarriage and a second trimester silent miscarriage. I will always miss them, I’ll always love them and while I’m not into woo-type things I hope that wherever they went they are safe and warm and that they got to finishing growing up. I know I’ll see them again one day. But neither of my two children would be here if I hadn’t miscarried. My son was conceived when my first lost baby was due, on a holiday that we wouldn’t have been on had things gone to plan. My daughter was conceived on the exact due date of the baby we lost in the second trimester. They healed me. It’s like the universe knew these were the children I needed.

    Thank you for this post.

  10. Am sure you sharing this will be of comfort in some way to lots who have shared your pain. So beautifully written, and of course these angels should never be forgotten x

  11. Tears streaming down my face, our first pregnancy was a silent miscarriage. I’ll never forget the midwives telling me it was nature’s cruellest trick, a thief in the night. You have expressed the emotion so perfectly. Our second pregnancy was a twin pregnancy but we miscarried one twin, the idea that if we hadn’t lost babies toi early our beautiful babies wouldn’t be here is so comforting as I look at my amazing daughter and son. Thank you Xx

  12. Beautifully written post but so very sad – I’m so sorry you had to go through this. I had a similar experience at 19 weeks, when baby was diagnorsed with fatal chromosome abnormality and we had no real choice but to end the pregnancy. It was devastating and while I don’t think about it often now, I will never forget. But if that baby hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have Allegra now, so yes I guess these things happen for a reason. Sending love x

  16. A beautiful post for a life lost but not forgotten. I have also unfortunately had a few close friends that it has happened to and have felt their pain. I’ve been told almost half a dozen times now by different people that a spirit child walks with me and shortly before I married my husband we thought I may have been pregnant but were never totally sure and din;t get a chance to find out. Whilst I am still not totally sure to this day if I did miscarry very early or not, the more I get told the same thing, over and over again in different settings, the more I am beginning to feel a sense of loss that I never knew. However to have known and then gone through what you had to must have been heartbreaking and I can’t begin to imagine how it feels. I find it comforting though to think that our loved ones don’t fully leave us and are watching over us all the time and I believe your little angel will be there, proud of and helping you and your family. I just wanted to let you know that and to send you huge hugs xxx

  18. Beautiful. I’ve had two early losses – one that happened Christmas week at 5.5 weeks pregnant, and the second who would have been due Christmas week, I lost this past March at 4.5 weeks pregnant. I don’t think of them every day, but I know that this year, I’ll be lighting two candles instead of one in the days leading up to Christmas to remember the little ones that were loved but lost. I expect I’ll always think of those babies that week each year.

  20. What a beautiful and heart felt piece, and what memories it brings back too. As you say you always remember, sending love and hugs xxx

  21. Oh love. Heartbreaking and, as ever, so beautifully written. I had a missed miscarriage early last summer. Today as I bounced my friends 8 month old daughter on my lap I realised that she is almost the same age as mine would have been. Just like you, I don’t think of it often, but I haven’t forgotten. xxx

  22. I wrote this this morning. I wrote it for my blog. But I still can’t . So I thought I’d post it here. Seemed right somehow Jane. X October being loss month etc

    17th October 2008.

    Oh my love, my darling
    You were born too soon
    So small, so perfect.
    I loved you
    So so hard, so awful
    I held on to your dad
    And we cried.
    Sorry, over and over.
    I need you now
    I cry for you now
    Four years its been
    Still brand new.
    It’s hard
    So painful
    My heart is broken in two,
    For you, for ever
    We should be five
    We’re four, I can’t get past this
    Ever.
    It hurts so much
    The pain is real
    The tears crash down
    Like my world.
    Life goes on
    They say it
    And time will heal so much
    I’m waiting still
    They lie, it doesn’t,
    I don’t ever think it will.

    I remember that night;
    Your perfect face
    Your perfect hands
    Your perfect fingers
    Your perfect knees
    Just asleep and so small
    You looked like your brother
    And sister
    That’s what we said,
    They cried for you
    All in my bed. When I was not there.
    A mother of three
    Two here, one gone
    I wish and I wish
    It wasn’t so.
    The force of my grief
    Keeps me awake all night
    I replay it over
    The midwife’s voice
    Is clear.
    “Oh Rachel” she said
    Mum held my hand
    My rock at my side
    But I didn’t know you were there…
    Or had I known? Deep down, surely
    I did. My mind plays these games now
    Phantom kicks and flutters

    The whole room cried.
    Even the nurses.
    It was just so final.

    I can’t finish this
    It will finish me.
    The darkest of thoughts in the dark small hours.
    I hate it. I hate it.
    I can’t carry on,

    but I will
    I love you forever my angel.
    Mummy x

  23. A beautifully written post. You are right, we still remember. Not everyday but they are there. I do believe these things happen for a reason and without my two miscarriages, the first a missed miscarriage at 14 weeks and the second at 6 weeks, I wouldn’t have my gorgeous boy. First time round, with my daughter, pregnancy seemed so easy, trying to complete our family seemed near impossible, but we got there in the end. This post has really moved me, x

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