Last First

When you are expecting a baby you can't help but make plans, especially for your first year. It's like a script that has already been written for you with the specific details left to develop. First time sleeping through the night, the next size up diapers, teething, weaning, babbling, walking, words, etc.

When your baby dies, the script goes out the window. There is unfortunately not a handbook out there that can instruct you how to not feel like you want to die that first Mother's Day, or how you will push away fellow moms whose babies were born near yours, all living while your sweet one is underground and their nursery quiet and dusty.

The first year is a minefield of firsts and unfulfilled dreams, especially when facebook cruelly shows all of those babies hitting milestones that your baby should be experiencing. Your heart will twist and shrivel at the joy on their parents' faces and the unintentionally shattering comments that people tend to leave. "You deserve this more than anyone!" "There is nothing better than baby snuggles!"

Holidays and parent celebration days are the hardest, I think. You can't help but remember on those days that your life has been pulled apart and scattered to the wind. 

I was afraid of Haven's birthday, especially so soon after our miscarried baby and Christmas so fresh in our hearts. But thankfully (and surprisingly), I found this weekend peaceful. Rather than be sad at home, we stayed at a friend's cabin (he is out of the country). On the way out, I picked up a rose for Haven to quietly remind us of her. I lit a candle on her birthday (February 16th) and let it burn all day next to her rose. Danny and I relaxed, played games, watched movies, and enjoyed the quiet time together. On the way back into town today, I placed her rose on her stone. 

Yesterday was our last first. It is with some relief that we pass this milestone. I don't believe there is closure when your child dies - how can there be when you are constantly aware of their absence? But there can be peace and healing. I hope that both of those things continue to grow in us. 

Happy birthday, Haven. Mama and Dad love and miss you every day. I hope that wherever you are, you are warm and happy and laughing. 

The End, the Beginning

One year ago today, perhaps to the very hour, I felt my daughter kick inside me for the last time. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that night and savour it. Just soak in the magnificence of my big belly and the beautiful life inside.

We stayed up late even though the next day, Valentine's Day, was my last day of work before maternity leave. We were in a good mood, I remember. High on life - our family was about to be made complete. The next day was the final step toward parenthood - once maternity leave started, it was just a matter of days or weeks before our baby was here. We went to bed like any other night. Our lives as we knew them were over...we just didn't know it yet. Sometime between Haven's last kicks and the morning, she died.

I remember thinking the next morning that she must be sleeping in; usually she was pretty active in the morning. I even poked my belly a few times and said "wake up, sleepy-head." A coworker wanted to feel her move, but my belly felt soft. I was having Braxton Hicks contractions all morning, which felt sometimes like she was stretching inside me, so it wasn't until I returned from my farewell lunch that it dawned on me that she hadn't kicked yet that day.

I called Danny and waited for him to pick me up from work - I was distracted and a bit worried, but the possibility that she was gone didn't fully sink in. Someone handed me a big gift on the way out - they had missed my baby shower a few days before. It would sit in the back seat of our car with the car seat while I laboured to bring Haven into the world, silent.

Those days haunt me. They have played on a loop so many times in my mind since then and the sting has never left. I remember so much of that day in excruciating detail - what I ordered at lunch, what I was wearing, that I accidentally ripped my purse as I sat down, the winter storm raging outside. Later, my clothing piled on top of my winter boots next to my hospital bed as the look came into the nurse's eyes...

I wish I could let go of this trauma. I live with it pretty well most days, but it is always there under the surface. 

One year. I should be planning a birthday party, wiping up drool, trying to get some rest. I should also be halfway through a second pregnancy, but I am laying in bed typing this with an empty womb and an empty, quiet house.

I hope it is not always so.

Memorial Jewelry

As a bereaved mother of both a full-term stillborn daughter and now of a miscarried baby, I know just how hard it is to find thoughtful and subtle ways to memorialize your lost loved ones. I'm always torn between wanting to share and not wanting to make a spectacle of either us or Haven. It's just another juggling act, one of many in which bereaved parents find themselves. It is difficult to know how to remember our miscarried baby, because hardly anyone knew we were pregnant. In the world of pregnancy and baby loss, it is a struggle to feel legitimate and heard when your loss doesn't usually seem real to many others. I grasp any opportunity I get to tell our story and remember our daughter (and now this little lost baby) with respect and dignity.

I discovered last week that my friend, Kat Grace, sells customizable jewelry for a company called South Hill Designs. I was admiring the photos she posted on facebook and was surprised when she private messaged me and offered to purchase a locket for me in Haven's memory. I was blown away by her kindness and really excited, as the lockets, which are the main seller, are gorgeous and perfect for memorial jewelry (though they can be used for whatever purpose you design them for).

Just one possible combination of many.

I thought immediately of all of the others who are looking for a beautiful way to memorialize their lost babes. I am sharing about this here because I figured it might be an easy way to benefit some grieving parents and to benefit my kind friend at the same time.

Mine will be a large round silver tone locket (no crystals) with a tree of life background screen, a February birth stone for Haven, a November stone in memory of our recent loss, and a little silver sparrow (click here to read about the significance to me). It is so pretty - I will be sure to post a photo when it arrives. There are a lot of little options that I think would be gorgeous for a memorial piece, including charms like little wings or angels, birth stones, coins that say 'family' or 'love' (I have put forth the suggestion of an 'angel' coin for the loss community). There are also wrist lockets (bracelets in which you can put charms, etc.)

If you are interested, please check out the following links. Kat is very quick to respond and will answer any questions you have. Please be sure to purchase under her profile. 

Her section of the South Hill Designs web page:

http://www.southhilldesigns.com/ca/katgrace/default

Her facebook group:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/South-Hill-Designs-by-Kat-Grace/1496301670634782

I love the monogram screens. So pretty!

I really like the oval shaped lockets, but I chose round
because I adored the tree of life screen.

There are so many charm options!

Lots of love to you all.

B.