Hollie Nich - Posts

To those who don’t understand

Sun, 24 Mar 2019 21:49:00 +0000

Based on my personal observation, there are two types of people in the world: those who feel and show empathy and those who do not.

It is my main goal in life to always attempt to put myself in the shoes of others and try to be understanding about things I have not experienced myself. To me, empathy is the most important attribute to attain as a human being, especially in today’s world. In 2017 my world, became the baby Loss world and I am so grateful to have come into contact with people who have graced my life with their empathy and compassion. They have not felt the all encompassing pain of losing a child but they’ve made a damn well effort to try and understand what that must be like. There are however, the few who don’t and as a result THEY. JUST. DON’T. GET. IT. This is for those people.

To those who don’t understand,

We all have strengths and weaknesses and I’m sorry that empathy has fallen under the latter for you. I’m sorry that you don’t get what it’s all about. Miscarriage. Baby Loss. It’s not all your fault, society has failed you - society has failed women and their lost babies. We live in a world where the painful parts of our lives aren’t supposed to be discussed. But that is something I will NEVER adhere to. 30th March 2019 will be 2 years since my ears were filled with those dreadful words ‘I can’t find a heartbeat.’ Those words and the chaos they created in my life have consumed me everyday since, so let me explain to you what it’s all about.

It’s about potential. Did you know that a baby’s heart starts to beat as early as 24 days? If you’re reading this put your hand on your heart and feel it. That heart you feel beating inside of you, started beating when you were 24 days grown inside your mother’s womb. You were the size of a tadpole but you were life, with an overwhelming amount of potential. Everyday I look at my intelligent, beautiful 1 year old and I remember the first time I saw her. She was a 7 week old baby on an ultrasound monitor with a huge heartbeat that we could see so clearly. Now she can crawl and stand and almost walk. She can say ‘daddy’ and ‘hiya.’ She laughs and she smiles and she cuddles me. Everything that she is, is everything that I lost.

It’s about love. There are no rules with love and especially when it comes to a mothers love. Where in the baby books does it tell you which week you’re supposed to start loving your baby? Week 5? Week 12? When I found out I was pregnant with my first child I was devastated. I did not feel ready to be a mother and I did not want to have a baby. But even in those first few days where I couldn’t stop throwing up and felt miserable, there was this automatic instinct to protect the life growing inside of me. It was love, a new love I had never felt before. Now, I am not a perfect mother. In fact, I have days where I hate myself and I don’t feel good enough and I truly believe I am the worst mother in the world. But grieving my baby everyday since I lost her is good for one thing and that is to remind me that I am a damn good mother. I am a mother who loves her children to death and more importantly, in spite of it.

It’s about my bathroom. Can you imagine sitting on your toilet for hours whilst blood pours out of you? All the while knowing that there is a tiny human somewhere in amongst all that too? I’m sure many reading this will be female and therefore will have experienced a period. I’ve had heavy, painful periods in the past. Losing a baby is NOT a heavy period. I do not wish to ever read or hear of a miscarriage being compared to it ever again. My baby was 6 weeks when she died and that’s very early on in a pregnancy. I had never seen so much blood before in my life and keep in mind I had already birthed two children previously. The pain was agonising both physically and emotionally. The sight of it all was traumatic. And the knowledge of knowing that my baby was dead and alone and lost in there, as we flushed it all away, will haunt me (and my husband) for the rest of our lives.

Can you imagine what it has been like to sit on that same toilet everyday since? It was tolerable. Up until I had my first period in December 2018. It was like I was re-living the whole thing, looking down at the tissue, covered in blood - the instant panic. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t pregnant. Sometimes, even now when I take my period, my hands shake and my stomach churns as I remember that terrible moment in my past, where everything the sonographer had said was confirmed - my baby was dead. Can you imagine re-living that terrible moment over and over again? Can you imagine re-styling your bathroom so that you can actually bare to sit in it without crying? Changing the colour scheme and adding new items to make it look like a different place because the old place held such terrible memories? This has been my reality. This is what it’s all about.

It’s about the after-care, or lack of it in my case. I was told by a midwife to come back for another scan in a weeks time but if I did start to bleed to call gynaecology. That was it. The extent of my education and preparation for miscarriage. No leaflet or anything. And when I called gynaecology? They asked me how many pads I had been through and when I didn’t give them their magic number they told me they couldn’t bring me into the hospital but to keep an eye on it. They gave me no advice. And when I went back the following week they told me someone would call me about counselling. I’m still waiting for that call. I had a baby after my loss and I did not return to the same hospital.

It’s about breast cancer. Random I know, but everyone has their own stories and a breast cancer scare is part of mines. When I found out I was pregnant I took my health a lot more seriously. There was a lump on my head I needed to get checked as well as an issue with one of my breasts. I was referred to the breast clinic to have scans. My appointment came after we lost our baby and I was an emotional wreck. In the weeks leading up to the appointment I had convinced myself that I must have breast cancer. Some people do that when they have a symptom and they’re really worried about it. But for me, it was about the fact that my baby had just died for no known reason. It wasn’t fair and I was sad and angry and frustrated. The only way I could make sense of it was that I must have breast cancer and that’s why I lost her. Breast cancer would be devastating and awful but at least then I’d have a reason why my baby couldn’t live and why I wouldn’t one day be holding her in my arms.

I had the scans and I did not, thankfully, have breast cancer. And here’s the twisted, screwed up part of it. I was sad. I was sad that I once again didn’t have a reason for my baby dying. I was sad I didn’t have cancer. And I’ve never told anyone, other than my husband, that before. So losing a baby, it’s about being....fucked up. And sorry mum, that was the only adequate way to describe that.

It’s about the dates. 14th February. 30th March. 31st March. 14th October. Not to mention Mother’s Day and Christmas. They may seem like any other day but to me they are filled with all sorts of happy and painful memories. I dread each and every one of them. The build up is usually the worst and the actual day isn’t so bad. Walking around knowing you’re one of the, if not the only person who remembers is heart-wrenching. Having people invite you to things on said dates is truly heart-breaking, especially when you feel like you have to decline without being honest about why to spare their feelings. Baby Loss makes you uncomfortable my dear? Gosh, losing it was terribly uncomfortable I must say.

It’s about never wanting to have a baby again. I became pregnant very quickly after my loss, despite several uses of contraception. It was an upsetting, painful and worrying pregnancy. It was obviously worth it to have my beautiful, healthy daughter who has brought me so much peace. But it mentally, it was a massive struggle. PND is something I have struggled with after the birth of my rainbow last year. My husband and I have decided to have no more children and eliminating the risk of ever having to experience losing a baby in pregnancy again, was a huge factor in making that decision.

It’s about being the dead baby lady. It’s about feeling like an inconvenience, a broken record, a negative nelly, ungrateful and selfish. It’s about the world constantly belittling your experience. It’s about the mental gymnastics that baby Loss and pregnancy after baby Loss entails. It’s about not being heard. It’s about post-natal depression and mental health. It’s about the guilt and the shame and the constant ‘what ifs.’ It’s about the longing to be understood and accepted and acknowledged. It’s about having our babies acknowledged. It’s about changing minds. It’s about education and the lack of it. It’s about feeling like you’ve been failed. It’s about loneliness. It’s about deep heartache that you never imagined was possible. It’s about trauma and painful memories and reliving them. It’s about giving up the greatest thing in the world without even having a reason to show for it. It’s about being broken and damaged and searching for healing. It’s about taking a step forward and being knocked three steps back.

It’s. About. EVERYTHING. There is not one part of my life unaffected by the loss of my baby. It’s all about her and it will always be all about her.

Dahlia Theresa Nicholson.

30th March 2017.

Yearly Family Banner

Wed, 02 Jan 2019 17:03:00 +0000

So, it’s the last week of the holidays - can I get a hallelujah?! The Christmas decorations are slowly disappearing, the last of the cardboard and toy packaging is being thrown out, the kids have you at your wits end with their sugar rushes and constant fighting....and FINALLY, January has arrived. A new year and a fresh start (boooo all you new year Scrooge’s who spew negativity over our reflection and commitment to change moments). But wait! There’s still 5 more days until the kids go back to school - damn. And maybe you’re like me, stuck at home whilst your partner heads back to work today?

Whatever your situation, I’m here to share one of our family traditions that I started a few years back. It’s fun, cheesy and sometimes messy but it’s a great activity to help keep the little ones occupied and help you have 10 more minutes of sanity. Every January we attempt to have ‘Family Unity Day.’ I read about it in a book named ‘Family Traditions’ by Meg Cox. I LOVE this book and highly recommend it - it’s packed full of so many beautiful rituals as activities to use in your family. I bought it before I even had kids and I get a little choked up everytime I think back to that newly married gal and now I’m actually getting to do this stuff with my beautiful children. It’s available to buy via this link but i found it in America so there may be a hefty shipping fee:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Book-Family-Traditions-Revised-Updated/dp/0762443189/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1546445191&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_QL65&keywords=family+traditions+meg+cox&dpPl=1&dpID=51GU7uQKfXL&ref=plSrch

Now, family unity day can involve many things. First of all you need to get into the mindset that imagines your family as a sort of tribe or team. What would your family song or chant be? Two years ago Mark invented a rap for us all which we posted online. You can watch it here: https://vimeo.com/198074325

As well as inventing a family chant, we also create our yearly family banner. This includes our last name stretched across a huge poster in bright colours and then everyone picks a corner or space to make their own! We write our names, our goals, draw pictures of our favourite things and use paint to put our handprint next to it!

It’s a great activity because everyone of all ages can join in. Even the youngest family members can get help leaving a hand or footprint. My kids love participating in this activity and this is how we spent the 2nd of January 2019. My oldest girl chose to draw a unicorn & a mermaid as well as trying to write her own name which she has been practicing a lot over the past few months. My son drew a lot of scribbles and helped me draw a spiderman since that is his obsession at the moment! I drew a rainbow for my youngest since she is our ‘rainbow baby’ and a horse because she is obsessed with the Netflix tv show ‘spirit.’ I drew a Dahlia because she is the centre of my universe as well as a method spray bottle which comes at a close second haha! As hubby is working he will do his this evening but you can count on there being something batman or football related.

The last thing we do is decide on a family motto or goal for the new year. Our 2019 motto is ‘Our Family matters most.’ Hubby and I have decided on this particular motto because we know that life can be so busy and stressful and as a result, we sometimes we forget to focus on what’s most important and to us that’s our family - every member living under our roof. We love and care for others but our family here at home should be our main priority and focus. And so we’re both going to work hard to remember that this year.

And once everything is complete, the kids have finished throwing glitter and scribbling over all the writing, all that’s left to do is hang our banner on a wall - loud and proud for all to see who visits, but most importantly for each of us to walk past everyday and be reminded of our goals, the things that make us happy and each other.

Happy new year for 2019 & have a go at having your own family unity day!

October 2nd: Baby Loss Awareness

Tue, 02 Oct 2018 18:04:00 +0000

2nd October 2018

Purpose

Why am I doing 'capture your grief' this year? To help get me through the month, to give me something to focus on everyday, to talk about something that's really important to me. I guess really I'm hoping to feel just a little bit better by taking part in it. Things have been tough recently and you could say I've reached an all time low so I'm hoping that by taking part in 'capture your grief' that I'll be able to lift myself out of the hole I'm in even if it's just temporary. I guess my purpose is really all about self-care and actually trying to take care of myself for once.

#captureyourgrief #captureyourgrief2018 #whathealsyou

October 1st: Baby Loss Awareness Month

Mon, 01 Oct 2018 17:24:00 +0000

This month is Baby Loss Awareness Week and I am taking part in a grief project every day in October. I've decided with each prompt that the facilitator has offered, I am going to share (someone else's with permission) or take my own photo as well as share a piece of writing (long or short) with my feelings about said prompt. I'll be sharing my posts on both Facebook and Instagram as a therapeutic experience for me but also to raise awareness this month for baby loss. Thousands of baby are lost every year in the UK - it affects too many people - so many families and family members. Yet why is it such a taboo? It's time to break the silence and raise our voices so that we can grieve and heal without the added burden of having to hide our loss - our child like it's something to be ashamed of!

1st October 2018

Sunrise

I woke up at 7am to watch the sunrise from North East Fife in Scotland. It was quite poignant for me, watching the sunrise as the first part of the grief project, when during my grief there have been so many dark days where I wasn't sure if I would live to see the next sunrise. October has always been a special month for me - I love autumn & Halloween and the whole build up to Christmas. But it's even more precious now that it's a time to remember our baby and how we should have been celebrating her 1st birthday this month. As Anne of Green Gables said 'I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.'

Social? Media

Sat, 08 Sep 2018 12:06:00 +0000

Last week our family took a 7 day holiday to one of my favourite places - Whitby, Yorkshire. My dad has been going on holiday here since he was a boy and brought my siblings and I as we were growing up. So it was quite amazing to take my own children and watch them enjoy all the same things I did as a kid.

Prior to leaving I had told my husband that I really wanted us to take a break from our phones this holiday so that we could just focus on being together and take advantage of that time. Mark is often on his phone for work and we both use our phones for social media so I wanted us to get rid of any of those apps and try to keep off our phones as much as possible. It turned into a bit of a social media fast and we've now been back from the holiday a couple of days and I still haven't been back on my Facebook or Instagram.

I'm someone who uses social media a lot - too much. I do the 'I'm bored scrolling' and I post a lot on my 'stories' of what we're up to as a family whilst watching everyone else's. I love social media - I think it's got so many positives. It's kept me connected to friends far and wide and it's a great platform for sharing the things I want to write about.

But social media can be so negative at the same time. It can take up all your time, it ruins your ability to communicate properly in the real world, it can have a bad affect on mental health and it's a place full of cyber bullying and criminals! For me I thought that it would be hard to go without using it for a full week and that I would feel this want to go online but I was really surprised that I did not feel that way at all. I didn't feel bored or isolated from what was going on! I felt in tune with myself, my family and my time was filled with everything we were doing.

Instead of standing at the cafe counter scrolling through Instagram whilst waiting on my hot chocolate, I was looking up and seeing everything around me. Instead of sitting on the sofa late at night scrolling through memes and click bait on Facebook, I was chatting to my husband or watching a favourite tv programme with him. Instead of lying in bed at 11pm flicking through people's stories, I was closing my eyes and going straight to sleep! I didn't miss it at all.

The main thing for me when I decided to do this was that Mark and I would be giving our children 100% of our attention. We very rarely have all of marks attention - he has a very high pressure job that keeps him very busy even when he's at home. Mark didn't use his phone for work once the entire trip and with our social media gone we were really just using our phones to take pictures or message family members. Major Truth bomb: a while ago Lillie asked me why I was on my phone all of the time! Ouch. Important lesson for mummy. On this holiday the kids had so much more of our attention and it has been one of my favourite trips.

I don't know if these were coincidences but this is my take on it. The kids were really well behaved for the most part of the week. Could this be because their parents were really present for most of the day and not taking 10 minutes here and there staring at their screens? I felt like we had so much more time to do everything we wanted and when it was time to leave I wasn't even sad because I felt so content with how we had spent our time. Could this be because none of it was sucked up by social media use?

I felt happier and focused - my mind was clearer and junk free. I know for certain that's because I was not using social media every day. Now, I'm not saying we shouldn't use social media! I love it and I'll continue to share and be a part of it. But this has definitely taught me a lesson on how taking time away from it can have so many benefits for me. And it's also about setting a good example for my children - because they won't stay children forever and I don't want them to be addicted to things like this where it can lead to low self-esteem, anxiety and problems with real life communication!

It has become apparent to me that there is now an expectation when it comes to sharing things on social media. We expect people to post about things going on in their lives and equally people expect you to now what's going on in their lives by seeing what they post. We need to focus more on having real conversations and sharing information and news instead of being shocked when Sally down the road doesn't know you have a new dog when you previously posted dozens of photos of said dog AND tagged her.

Going forward I've decided to try using social media only in the evenings. There can be days during the week where there isn't a lot going on (besides the three crazy kids needing kept alive) and I'm stuck at home so I do have a tendency to use my phone more. But I do think that if I make a conscious effort to not use it that I'll concentrate on more important things - things I'm perhaps procrastinating. It also means that my children will have more of my attention and we'll probably have a much more enjoyable day like we did with our holiday!

I definitely don't write this wanting to make anyone who uses or overuses social media feel bad. Please don't! Social media is a wonderful thing that has changed our world dramatically. I do think that taking a break has really benefited me and I feel better for having experienced it!

When Toddlers tell the Truth

Fri, 24 Aug 2018 17:10:00 +0000

My last blog was about religion but I had put a poll on my Instagram and a lot of people had voted for something on parenting. I've realised that I can only really blog about what falls into my lap and what I'm experiencing. And a few weeks ago that happened to be some heavy feelings about my faith. This week however, I am going to open up about some parenting stuff and basically share a lot of my insecurities!

A few weeks ago my 4 year old daughter said something to me that cut me really deep. She's just a little thing asking an innocent question with no clue of what the implications could be. She had no idea that what she said would hurt my feelings but mostly because I knew what she said was true.

I was feeding them cereal (for dinner by the way, since we are keeping this real - I did it all the time as a kid it won't kill them) and her younger brother knocked his bowl over with the milk and cereal flying everywhere. This happens every single day no matter how much Mark and I try to prevent it (as I'm sure it does to most 2 year olds). I raised my voice and told little Mark to sit at peace and eat properly - probably because I was tired and it had been a stressful day, it was definitely an over-reaction.

Lillie looked at me with her innocent little eyes and said 'Mummy, why are you angry all of the time?' Ouch. I instantly went on the defensive and said 'I'm not - Why? Do you think I am?' and she nodded. I left the room and cried in my bed. I felt so hurt by the question but so guilty too. Why was I angry all of the time?

Firstly, I'm just going to put something out there that might be quite shocking for some people. Looking after children IS NOT EASY. Giving up your body for 9 months each time you produce another human being? NOT EASY. Keeping said human being(s) alive till they're fully grown? NOT EASY. I mean I know women have been doing it since the beginning of time, churning them out and growing them up, but believe me - definitely NOT EASY.

Don't get me wrong I love all of my children - to death. I love them so much that I squeeze each of them probably a bit too hard and a bit too often every single day. At bedtime I check on each of them 3 separate times as well as the door locks. Spending time with them is wonderful and often so rewarding. But you know what? Sometimes it's crap. Really really crap. Sometimes they drive me crazy. So crazy, that yep you've guessed it - I get angry.

All the parenting books and websites will tell you that getting angry is bad and we should never raise our voices at our children. And you know what? I would love to fulfil that perfect prophecy of parenting. But let's be real - we're human beings and sometimes we get angry about stuff. Sometimes we lose patience, we get frustrated, we feel irritable. It's natural and normal and pretty much inevitable!

One thing I've learned is that to be a parent, you have to be mentally strong. And in my experience being a parent who stays at home with my kids (all day long alone) mental strength is so crucial. There are so many days that I can go hours and hours without interacting with another adult. You'll often find me cleaning poo off the floor that my almost 3 year old has smeared everywhere, whilst my 7 month old screams in her high chair because she is insistent on me holding her every single second of every day, just as my 4 year old has finished screaming 'flips sake' (often repeating things learned from her parents) in her rage over me telling her she could not have another sandwich since dinner is being served in 5!

And yes that is as hectic and stressful as it sounds. Actually no - it's worse. A lot worse. So the parenting job is tough work and sometimes it's so tough I can react in an angry way. But there's other reasons for my anger too. Too often our angry attitudes in life are the results of pain and heartache. And pain is something I've felt a lot of. Pain in loss, in broken relationships, in broken faith and then the pain that comes from reacting to that pain in a way that I don't want to.

You see my primary role right now is to be a parent but I'm still a human being, feeling all of the feelings. I can't switch them off but I can sometimes bury them, although it's definitely not the healthiest approach when I see them bear their ugly heads on a stressful day at home!

Maybe I need to take a self-care class but let's be honest? As parents, we tend to put our children first and life is so busy that we don't always stop to take care of ourselves and our feelings. We carry all that pain, stress, guilt and self-loathing and we try to keep it locked up inside only to have it spew out all over the kitchen table one day, joining the home cooked meal you spent forever making, thrown in rage by one of your mini humans.

The funny thing about children is that they're so forgiving. Just as we forgive them for their age appropriate tantrums, they forgive us for ours. They love us and love us and love us and love us. A few weeks ago Lillie asked me why I was angry all of the time but just yesterday she told me I was the best mummy ever. This compliment came with a huge hug. And it's in the moments like these that it hits me - I'm not angry ALL of the time. I'm not failing as a parent. I'm not a bad mum! I'm actually a freaking great one! Why else would my little boy constantly tell me in his cute voice that I'm his 'best friend?'

Why else would my oldest daughter stop me outside of the supermarket (after having picked her up from a sleepover) to say wait mummy I didn't hug you yet? Why else would my 7 month old baby kick her legs and smile anytime she sees my face? Ok fair enough I am her source of food at the moment but believe me there is love there too! They all love me and they all think I'm awesome - so I should too! I should love me and think myself awesome and give myself a lot more credit. Because do you know what? I deserve it.

The Lost Sheep

Wed, 18 Jul 2018 13:39:00 +0000

Dear lost sheep,

Hey! How's it going? I hope you are living a happy life and that all is well in the 'lost sheep group.' I'm afraid I didn't realise how painful it is to be a part of the herd until I myself joined it recently. Ignorance is definitely bliss and it's something being re-confirmed to me again and again. So I wanted to take a minute to apologise for a few things.

To begin with, I'm sorry that this herd exists in the first place and that your decision to leave the LDS Church meant that you automatically found yourself here. I hope you were able to find like-minded friends and not feel too alone.

I'm sorry for the way you were judged for the choices you made. I'm sorry that people looked at you with eyes full of pity believing so strongly that you had been led astray by Satan himself. I'm sorry that they despaired for your salvation and believed that your place in eternity was now lost.

I'm sorry that people (including myself) assumed that you just weren't faithful enough, that you didn't read your scriptures enough or pray or invite the Holy Spirit to be with you always. I'm sorry that without even realising it we were conditioned to put those of us that were 'in' on a pedestal above those that were 'out.'

I'm sorry for the way people talked about your children and how sorry they felt for them. They thought you were letting them down and that your actions were unfair on them, as if what you were doing was motivated by anything but pure love for your children & the inherent need to protect them. And as if your children couldn't possibly grow up to be good people with a life full of happiness unless they were raised in the church.

I'm sorry that you may have lost friends. I'm sorry that the church preaches about being inclusive and loving all but if you're not part of the club then you do get treated differently. I hope there were some who truly exemplified Jesus Christ and everything he stood for and stayed your true friends no matter what.

I'm sorry that if you ever chose to share feelings, beliefs or other pieces of information online that you believed in, that there were those that took grave offence, judged you, mocked you or talked about you. I'm sorry that some people felt because you were 'out' that you had no right to share how you felt, that it automatically meant you were being disrespectful even though they felt entitled to share their beliefs and would often do so.

I'm sorry that what was already a difficult time full of torment and heartbreak as the religion you had built your life around crumbled to pieces, was made worse by the fact that you knew that the people you had built relationships with for years were both silently & blatantly judging you.

I hope that you don't hold any grudges and can heal from the difficult experiences that have left you wounded and forever changed. I hope that you can forgive and understand that although they were getting it all wrong, most of the time the way people treated you was usually motivated by a genuine love and concern.

I hope you remember what it felt like to walk in their shoes, to have had faith in something and sorrowed for loved ones who didn't. I hope you remember that everyone's journey is different and often people are just trying to do what they think is right. Your feelings of hurt and patronisation are valid and hopefully some of these cultural ways of thinking will change with time. Hopefully one day they will learn that Mormons aren't the be all and end all of happiness and they will be happy for those that choose differently.

Until then, I hope you'll welcome me with open arms into the herd as I lick my wounds and buckle down for whatever else comes my way.

Love always,

A lost Sheep.

Thank You Midwife!

Sat, 05 May 2018 15:20:00 +0000

Today is national midwife day and I wanted to write a little something for the blog since I have been cared for by many midwives over the past five years! Throughout my pregnancies with both Lillie & Mark I would say that the healthcare I received was brilliant but it was really the care I received after my third pregnancy and during my fourth that really was above and beyond wonderful. First, a little back-story to illustrate how special the care was for me.

Firstly I would like to say that I love the NHS and I am a huge believer in the health care system we have here in the UK. We are super fortunate to not only have the free healthcare that we have but also outstanding services from NHS staff that do go the extra mile within their roles. However, there are a lot of cutbacks, staff are stretched and sometimes (and especially within baby loss and bereavement) it really can be pot luck on the type of care one will receive depending on the area you are in.

Back story:

So almost a year ago to the date I was in a really difficult place in my life. It had only been 3 months since we had gone to our hospital for our 12 week scan only to find out that our precious baby Dahlia had died 6 weeks prior and I had suffered a missed miscarriage. This was a truly devastating ordeal for both myself and Mark and the memories we have from losing or third child have left a lot of trauma and scars.

Weeks went by and life went on (despite the difficult days and heartache behind the smiles) and we found ourselves in a hotel in Perthshire having a night away from the kids. It was here that I decided to take a pregnancy test. I had been experiencing headaches for a few days now which had been a tell-tale sign of my previous pregnancy.

Now, after losing Dahlia I really just couldn't imagine having another baby ever again. I knew that with time this feeling would probably ease and that I would hopefully go on to have another beautiful baby but at this particular time it just felt far too soon. So mark and I were obviously doing our best to be careful and prevent another pregnancy. Unfortunately the very FIRST time we were 'intimate' together after losing Dahlia, we had an altercation with contraception which resulted in me having to go to my GP the following day for the morning after pill. I was so upset and felt it was so unfair the bad luck that we were having. It was even more traumatic having to sit with my Dr, sobbing as I tried to explain what had happened.

So there we were the morning after our hotel stay a few weeks later and I took my test. The second line came up rapidly and clear as day - I was pregnant: my heart was confused. I was happy and sad. One minute I felt contented and at peace and the next I felt angry and empty.

What followed was a lot of conversations with various friends and family, probably way too much googling and a whole lot of worrying that perhaps the positive test was a result of leftover hormones from the previous pregnancy. It was truly AWFUL. I went to my local surgery to meet with a dr in the hopes that I could have a test or ultrasound to confirm it. I was so elated to find out I'd be meeting with a female dr, convinced that she would be more sympathetic to my situation. Her blazay attitude still makes me feel sick to my stomach. She said that if I wasn't considering terminating then it didn't really matter whether I was pregnant or not and that I should wait 2 more weeks and take another test.

By this point the nausea had started and I was struggling to eat or drink and look after my two young children. I went to stay with family who could help take care of us. Now for yet another twist in this horrid tale. I took a second pregnancy test which was positive and the very next morning I went to the toilet and started bleeding. My heart sunk to my toes, I almost considered ignoring it. This brought back so much, along with new feelings and I felt like my head might explode. I called NHS 24 but I knew that the help I so badly needed would not be there as I had learned before that it's completely inconvenient to lose a baby on a weekend!

The nurse I spoke to was very helpful and assured me that someone from my hospital would call me either that night or the next day. I am still to this day waiting on that phone call.

My heart was broken. I desperately needed answers about what was going on with my body. By this point I had completely forgotten about the email I had sent a few weeks previously to a different hospital about moving all my care to there. I had a lot of different reasons for wanting to change to a different hospital and the day after I started bleeding, I received an email telling me that I could and that I had already been assigned a midwife: enter Rebecca.

And this is really what I wanted this post to be about: Rebecca. This midwife really was my saving grace, more than once throughout my pregnancy with Willow. As soon as I made that very first phone call to her, she had me in the same day for an emergency scan where we were relieved and completely overwhelmed to see our beautiful girl at 7 weeks. She had already outlived Dahlia and it stung but we were so grateful to have peace of mind. Not only that, we were given scans every two weeks up until our 12 week scan to make sure everything was okay.

I wish there were words to explain my feelings about the way that my midwife handled my care from the first moment she spoke to me. I had been stuck in a place where I felt like each time I had spoken to a health professional, I had a hit a brick wall. And each time that happened it hurt so much I could hardly breathe. Having that weight lifted and being met with sympathy to my individual circumstances and needs really overwhelms me when I think or talk about it. My heart swells when I think about the moment she told me I could come in for a scan...I am emotional just thinking about it.

Because of my overall experience in 2017, my pregnancy with Willow was full of ups and downs with more downs than I ever thought possible. Members of my family seen me at my lowest and most vulnerable and so did my midwife. At each and every appointment I had with Rebecca, she would talk with me about how I was feeling and try to figure out what we could do to better my situation. At one appointment in particular when I was really low she set up appointments with my GP and had my health visitor come out to visit to assure that I had the best support in place prior to the arrival of another child.

Rebecca also took a lot of care and time checking on our baby girls development. She always measured my bump a few times at our appointments and on Christmas Eve when she felt that I hadn't grown at all she sent me straight to another hospital for an emergency scan just to be sure that our baby was growing healthily. She always kept a close eye on my iron levels as I was very anaemic and when my medication wouldn't help she brought me in for iron infusion which helped to prepare for the worst (and the worst would happen after Willow was born).

When we chose the hospital that we did (which only had a midwife led unit) we knew that if I gave birth there and anything were to go wrong I would have to go by ambulance to another hospital. Unfortunately about an hour after Willow was born I suffered a post-natal haemorrhage which resulted in just that. I had previously had two relatively straight forward births and my pregnancy continued low risk as long as we could keep my iron levels up so I really do believe that having those iron infusions before giving birth saved me from having to have a blood transfusion. My midwives worked super hard and very quickly to look after me and stop the bleeding by the time I reached the other hospital. It was so painful and such a scary event and I am so grateful I had so much support around me for that.

My overall experience at the hospital I was cared for compared to the care I had received in my previous pregnancies was far better and individually tailored to my personal needs. We couldn't choose between Iris & Willow when it came to names so when we found out that one of Rebecca's daughters was named Willow, we knew this was a sure sign! I am so grateful to my midwife Rebecca and the other midwives, nurses and consultants who helped to bring our rainbow baby safely into the world. To them all I want to say THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart! Our little Rainbow is 3 months old now and the miracle we never knew we needed.

The Dreading of March

Mon, 19 Mar 2018 17:46:00 +0000

Willow is 8 weeks old today and I have spent those 8 weeks falling more and more in love with her with each passing day. I have mostly felt very happy and well since she arrived and have adjusted to life with three young children, much better than I expected. However, as we have entered the month of March I have found it difficult to deter my thoughts from looking back to March last year, where I experienced the worst trauma of my life: the loss of our third baby. In these past two days I have really struggled with feelings of lowness, loneliness and heartache.

Each day I am caught up thinking 'what was I doing on this day last year?' Fortunately I have diary entries to answer those questions and they are filled with the hopes and dreams for the new life that had brightened up my own life ever so briefly. Willow will be blessed at our church this coming Sunday and although this will be an extra special day for us, it's also a sore reminder of the little one who won't have a baby blessing. I suppose with all kinds of baby loss, you are left with a lack of firsts: first birthday, first Christmas, first smile, first steps. With this, comes the dreading of certain months and dates: all reminders of those firsts never fulfilled.

Today Willow had her first round of injections and she has definitely been the most upset out of all of our children. I wept along with her and felt a real sting, a sense of protectiveness that I've never had when enduring the injections with my little ones before. I think I am feeling extra emotional and extra anxious at the moment so I've decided to do some writing to try and help myself feel better. I have always found writing a real kind of therapy and I always breathe a sigh of relief after putting my thoughts and feelings down in print.

I hope to write about when Willow was born and share the wonderful, yet difficult experience that I had. It was very different to my previous births, in both good ways and bad. I think writing about the precious moments of her arrival will really help to lift my spirits and keep me centred on the blessings our family are so abundantly given.

When I think back to this time a year ago (the days leading up to Dahlia's first and only ultrasound), I am reminded of the short and sweet time we had falling in love with her and excitedly preparing for the new addition to our family. We were convinced she was a girl and when Mark suggested the name Dahlia we both grew attached to it very quickly. Celebrating Mother's Day was so wonderfully special knowing that I had new life growing inside of me and that I was going to be a mother to another precious soul.

One of the most painful things about her death was that I had been so happy about being pregnant. With my firstborn I had been rather devastated as she was conceived very quickly after we were married and it had not at all been what I had planned. I was also extremely unwell which made me feel a hell of a lot worse about the prospect of a baby to care for. With my second child I was much more excited and thrilled for my little girl having a sibling but the timing still hadn't been exactly what we wanted. And then with Dahlia, I felt so at peace knowing she was coming. I finally felt that beautiful feeling I had read about mother's having when pregnant. I was so happy I didn't even care about how sick I felt. I was desperate for life with that precious little baby - it really was so cruel to have her taken away like that.

I have held Willow in my arms so tight these past few days. Her soft little head glistens with the tiny drops of water that have fallen from my tired eyes. She is a reminder of the painful heartache whilst being the source of healing all at the same time.

Our Missing Pumpkin

Tue, 31 Oct 2017 09:24:00 +0000

Autumn is my favourite season of the year. I am a total Christmas fanatic but the weather & nature in October is just perfection. Halloween is also a favourite celebration in our house and our 3 year old daughter has been talking about it since June!

I've been receiving those 'on this day' notifications from Facebook throughout this month. A year since my sister & I seen JB live, a year since we took the kids to the pumpkin patch and pushed them around the field in a wheelbarrow. Such precious memories and I had no idea at the time what the following year would be like. I was totally oblivious to how dramatically life would change in just 12 months.

And now here we are on October 31st with two beautiful children: Princess Fiona & Shrek. Two little ones that had their first halloweens. They sat naked as babies in their pumpkins & waited whilst a million photos were captured. They wore the 'my first halloween' bibs and sleep-suits. They made ghosts & witches with their handprints and footprints. They had and continue to have their firsts.

But we do have one who has no firsts - there is a pumpkin missing from our patch. There is an emptiness, aching arms and a heavy heart this month. My favourite season has been somewhat tarnished by the fact that our little one should have been born. She would have been about two weeks old by now. And she'd have been lying in a huge pumpkin whilst I took a million photos and cherished every precious moment with her.

To all the other families out there with missing pumpkins, I'm thinking of you and sharing your pain.

Happy Halloween.