When you give birth to your stillborn baby, people talk a lot about the grief you harbour as the mother, of course they do, it’s the most obvious emotion within the entire situation.
Then there’s griefs horrible little friend, guilt. It’s the overbearing, heart wrenching, soul destroying devil that’s ready to battle you with all it’s armour, and always coming at you when you least expect it. Every time I think about the fact Virràe has lost his little sister, that I failed to bring her home, I have a wave of sickness wash over me and it’s current is so strong that I can’t even come up for air. I know many people reading this will be desperate to tell me that I didn’t fail, and logically I know that, but that little bugger guilt whispers in my ear everyday that I did. I try to fight back, and sometimes I win, but sometimes the guilt is too powerful, and I am very quickly defeated.
Virràe was the very first person we told when I fell pregnant, we were so excited to be growing our family and that he was being promoted to big brother. We couldn’t wait to bring him into the fold of our special secret. We were slightly nervous as to how he would take the news as he had always been fairly adamant he didn’t want a little brother or sister, but when we told him there was a baby in my tummy, it was like a switch had been flicked, and all of the sudden he grew up over night, and into his new role. He was more ready than ever to love this little life, in fact, he already did, I could see that now.
Virràe had already informed me that he wanted a little sister, he was rather insistent actually, and so I took it as a sign that perhaps he knew something that I didn’t...
At five weeks pregnant I became extremely sick with hypermesis, this is normal for me as I got just as poorly when I was carrying Virràe. I was rushed to hospital and put on a drip twice, staying for several days on both occasions, but this time there was something different, and that inner feeling that I had a little girl growing inside of me was stronger than ever. Sometimes I allow myself to dream about how it would have been if everything had been different, if she hasn’t died, if I’d been able to bring her home, and my heart aches an ache that only a bereaved mother knows.
During one of my stints in hospital, I had lost about a stone in three days and yet the baby remained absolutely fine. This fascinated me, how could I feel as though as was at deaths door but there be absolutely no harm to this little jellybean inside of me? They obviously detected my anxiety and I had a couple of early scans to make sure. At the six week one Virràe was there with me, I really wanted to make this a reality for him, and I knew seeing something visual would make all the difference.
When a tiny little baby appeared on the screen, Virràe was in awe of the heart beating furiously, and it really was just that. He even said to me “mummy look how fast it is”, and I could see his face glowing with wonder and excitement, as was mine. I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
I was told many times just how strong my pregnancy was, and at the time I took a lot of comfort from those words, it made me feel safe and out of danger. As a mother you would do anything for your children, and you would tolerate anything, just so long as they are okay. I was prepared to remain sick and poorly for the full nine months, just so long as my baby was healthy. However, that being said, I would also tell anyone that dared to ask how I was, that I couldn’t wait for this pregnancy to be over with so I could just stop feeling so ill. Even when I stopped vomiting I still felt hideous. “Roll on September” I would say, “I can’t wait to get this baby out”. I curse myself for even uttering those words now.
Virràe was very excited by my changing body shape and everyday he would talk to my bump. His little face lit up when he thought the baby could hear, confirmed by the on demand kicks of course, and would often sing little songs, and always say good morning and goodnight. One evening I was taking him for a bath and he said to me, “mummy, hows my girl?” My heart melted and I knew in that moment he was going to be the most perfect big brother. I also did a very desperate prayer that I would get him his girl.
When you’re pregnant, you always hope and pray that your baby will be okay, but your mind never goes to that catastrophic world of losing your baby. It never happens to you remember...
September was due to be an incredible month of change for us. Virràe was starting school, and I was having a baby. He was over the moon that mummy and ‘his baby’, as he would often correct me, were going to be there to drop and pick him from the school gates. He spoke about it nearly everyday and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was that all my stars had aligned so perfectly.
I had no idea then of the hurricane that would hit my world, I had six blissful months of delirious happiness, dreaming of our future as a family of four. Now I stand in darkness, picking up the debris of mass destruction with the downpour of grief and guilt sometimes too strong to withstand. Though I am soaked through with the pain of this constant shower, I continue to wait patiently for the sun to rise, for I know one day that it will. When it does, I am very aware that the debris will still be there, but I trust that the sunlight will make it much easier to pick up, and that somewhere along the way I will find an umbrella to shelter me from any sudden downpours...
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