What lies beneath...

Three years on from Monty's stillbirth, I still go to Bristol SANDS. I look forward to the monthly bereavement support group meetings as an opportunity to devote a couple of hours to my son, to see new friends that I have made, and to share thoughts, feelings and experiences with other bereaved parents.

It can be emotionally tiring, opening up to new people but there is comfort in being surrounded by others who understand because they are travelling on a parallel journey.

It's the club I never wanted to join...
but now I'm a member, I don't want to leave.

This month, I shared the observation that I will be forever broken. It may sound dramatic but it is the truth. I am not the same person that I was before my son was born. I am somewhat healed but I am fundamentally and permanently changed by the experience.

The charity Mind includes bereavement in its A-Z of mental health. In my first year as a bereaved parent, I experienced several of the symptoms listed. A friend suggested counselling and I found that it really helped to talk to someone. But there is a legacy of bereavement - a feeling that something is still not quite right. And I have started to realise that this feeling is simply part of my 'new normal'. It is here to stay.

I found this thoughtful blogpost on Coffee and Crumbs, which gives a sensitive view on what to say to someone who is grieving. It's true that I grieve differently every single day. Some days are better than others.

My bereavement journey continues.

Turning orange

June is SANDS Awareness Month. This year, SANDS aims to turn social media orange, encouraging people to change their profile pictures and upload selfies to raise awareness and money for the charity.

I'm doing my bit, too. This month, I acted as a lay-person reviewer for research proposals looking at attitudes towards post mortem examination for babies and children. Instead of accepting the fee for my work, I asked for the money to be donated straight to SANDS. I'm also still knitting and collecting blankets to send in for the SANDS memory boxes.

I have also written an article for the Willow Tree Centre newsletter, due to be published later this month, about how bereavement counselling helped me to deal with my loss and rebuild my life.

As more time passes since Monty's stillbirth, my strength grows. His loss is no longer a physical and visible wound; my bereavement is becoming more neatly woven into the fabric of my life. I still want something positive to come from my experience, so I look for opportunities to give something back, to raise awareness and to raise funds.

Always loved, never forgotten

#Sands2015

1/6205

This time last year, I was 31 weeks pregnant, in full-swing rehearsal for the LABBS Convention in Telford, and blissfully unaware that my baby wasn't going to make it.

Since then, 6205 babies have been stillborn or died shortly after birth in the UK. Monty is one of them.

This week (9-15 October 2013) is baby loss awareness week. I have bought a commemorative pin and, in the run-up to Monty's anniversary, I will be trying to raise awareness and break the silence and taboo surrounding stillbirth.

Ursa major

Six bears were knitted to raise funds for Bristol SANDS:

Six bears were sold but people wanted more!

Notes and coins were thrust into my hands.
Requests were made for particular colours.

I knitted two dozen bears (some of them are pictured below) and raised over £100 to say 'thank you' to those who have helped me.

because it's June

Did you know that, every day in the UK, 17 babies will be stillborn or die shortly after birth? I didn't, until it happened to my son.

The bereavement group in Bristol has been very supportive. I have only attended four group sessions so far but the befrienders there have empathy and provide good advice. Everyone there has lost a baby and so there is a shared understanding of the pain, grief and anxiety that comes from such devastating loss. People come and go but I always feel welcome. There is tea and biscuits and tissues.

June is SANDS Awareness Month. I want to give something back, so I will be doing my bit to raise awareness this month. I can't run a marathon or abseil down a building but I can knit. So, as well as telling people about stillbirth, I am knitting teddy bears (like the ones pictured below). The money I make from their sale will be donated to Bristol SANDS. It's not much but it's my personal way of saying thank you.

Why today?

Why, today, do I feel so sad? Why do the tears flow so readily? Yesterday, I was fine.

Why, today, do I feel emptiness where you used to be?

I've been thinking and talking about you a lot. I miss you. I want you back.

Tonight, I will talk about you and think about you some more, in the company of other people who are in this club that no-one wants to join.

Our one night was special. Precious. Too short. It's all I have of you and I clutch it tightly.

I'll get by with a little help from my friends

Since Monty died, I've been given information about SANDS and the contact number for the local support group. I've received lots of cards, letters, emails and texts from friends. I have also been approached by people I don't know very well (such as, mums from toddler groups we attend) who know that I have lost my baby and who want to help in some way, even if just by going for a coffee.

I am lucky to have so many people who care about me and such a big support network and have decided that I need to start taking up some of these offers of help.

It can be hard to ask people to listen, when what I need to talk about is so sad, but I'm finding it very helpful to talk to friends (in particular, other mums) on a one-to-one basis. Some people have a similar experience to share, others have a different experience of loss and can empathise. In almost every case, I have found that it makes it easier to understand that my experience of grief is not unique and that I will, in time, start to feel better.

I'm on maternity leave from work at the moment and my daughter goes to nursery on three days of the week. I've got too much time to myself, which just gives me room to think too much, and I need to make sure that I spend some time every day in the company of others. Grown-up conversation is welcome and, on the days that I do have my daughter at home with me, it's good to meet up with other people who have toddlers for a play date.

I am determined to get back to my singing but I've been so tired in the evenings that I only made it to one half of a rehearsal in the past month (and I realised, when I got there, that I couldn't remember how any of the songs go!). It's the Christmas party on Thursday and I'm going to make a special effort to be there so that I can spend time with my friends before we break for the Christmas/New Year holiday.

I know that I'll never get over the loss of my baby (and why would I want to?) but I also know that, with a little help from my friends, I can regain some happiness, grow stronger and enjoy my "new normal" in a positive way.