Painful Memories.

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Today my 9 year old made me cry.

Normally I am pretty good at not letting the kids see me upset, but this caught me so off guard that I slipped up a little.

We were watching a daytime drama, and it featured the story of a lady who gave birth to her baby at 22 weeks, and the baby could not be saved.

While waiting for the inevitable to happen, the parents decided to have the baby baptised.

CJ asked me why they were having the baby baptised, and so I told her, it was so that the baby could go to heaven.

I am not a religious person, so if I'm being perfectly honest, I couldn't think of the correct answer straight away.

Thinking about it now, I feel pretty silly.

The next question raised a lot of emotion inside of me, that had been pushed to one side for so long now, that I didn't realise it was still so raw.

"Mummy, is the baby that died in your tummy in heaven? They weren't baptised, so where did they go?"

I felt my eyes well up immediately, and even as I sit here writing about it, I can feel the prickling sensation of the tears forming.

I want my children to be able to make their own decisions about religion when they are old enough, and Daddy D is a Christian, so I told CJ that there are special rules for babies that die in their mummy's tummy, and that they are always accepted into Heaven because they are extra special little angels.

Again, in all honesty, I guess I want to believe this myself.

It makes it a little easier to think of it that way.

CJ picked up on my sadness, and gave me a cuddle, telling me that what happened to "us" was really sad, but it must be a lot worse for people who's babies die after they are born, because they have actually met their baby, and are more aware of what they are losing.

I have a very bright spark for a daughter.

I managed to do what mummy does best, and push my feelings to one side and continue with my day, but it really did make me realise how raw the pain is still.

I had my miscarriage 3 years ago, and I guess I though I was "over it". The thing is, you never get over it.

It has to be one of the most painful experiences of my life so far, and I think you can only understand just how devastating it actually is, if you have experienced it yourself.

There are probably people that are reading this, people that know me quite well, that didn't even know it had happened.

That's because it seems to be one of those taboo subjects, that nobody really wants to open up about.

Miscarriage is very common, and many women, and their partners, suffer the horrific consequences of them, but it gets pushed to one side.

"Never mind, these things happen for a reason".

Try telling that to a woman, who has had to suffer the pain of child birth, while knowing that you will never meet this child.

You will never know if it was a boy or a girl.

You will never see their face.

You will never know their personality.

It is truly heartbreaking.

There is always the element of blame as well.

Did I do something wrong?

Could I have stopped this from happening?

Deep down, you know that there is nothing you could have done, but that doesn't stop you wondering.

Roo was only 4 months old when I fell pregnant. A huge shock to Daddy D and myself. It took a while to sink in, but eventually we came to terms with it, and we were starting to get excited.

We always said we would either have 2 or 4 children, as we didn't want an odd number. Roo was number 3, so in a way, it was perfect. Our family would be complete. Yes it was earlier than expected, but you adjust. We would be fine.

We invited both sets of parents to our house for Christmas dinner, and announced the pregnancy to them on Christmas day. They thought it was a joke at first ....... needless to say it was a big shock to everyone.

I miscarried in January.

Once the bleeding started, I had several scans, over a period of a few days, to establish whether it was a miscarriage or not.

On the first scan, there was a baby (foetus) but on the next, it was gone.

We were taken into a little side room, and the nurse broke the heartbreaking news to us, that our baby had died.

It was now only a matter of time before the bleeding would increase, along with the pain.

Nearly 2 weeks.

That's how long it took for my miscarriage to complete.

Two weeks of agonising pain, tears, blaming myself and shutting Daddy D out, forgetting that he was suffering as much as I was.

"Never mind, these things happen for a reason"

I wanted to scream, and cry, and hit out at anyone who said such things. Didn't they realise what I had just been through? The pain I had experienced? How much I was hurting inside?

The sad answer to this question is, no. Most of them probably didn't.

Like I said before, if you haven't experienced it, then you will find it very hard to realise just how devastating it really is.

Our baby was due on 30th August, so on this date, I always light a candle.

Our baby would have been 3 this year.

Some people might think it morbid to mark the date each year, but it is the kind of thing that you will never forget, and marking the day is just another way of coping.

After the miscarriage, it took us nearly 2 years to conceive again, but now we are blessed, and have Little Man.
He is in no way a replacement for the little one we lost, but he brightens up every minute of every day with his bubbly character, giggles and cheeky smiles.

At last, our family is complete.

I hope this post encourages people to speak up more, and to make miscarriage less of a taboo subject.

I thought I had recovered from this tragic experience, but it is clear to me now, that the pain is always there in the background ......... we are just very good at ignoring it.

Missy xx

About Missy B

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Marissa Bird is a busy mum of six, blogging the realities of parenting, whilst trying to keep her sanity by reading books and taking photographs in her spare time... if she can ever find any!