Letter to a newly bereaved mother

Dear bereaved mother,

I heard that you, too, have lost your baby. The precious child that you have been carrying and loving for months has been born and died. You have empty arms and a broken heart.

Unfortunately, you are not alone. Other mothers have felt this pain before you and more will follow.

The fabric of your world has been broken. The ground has given way beneath your feet. All that you understood and believed in has been shattered. Over the coming weeks, months and years, you will try to repair and rebuild your life; it will never be the same...

but there is help. Among family, friends and people you do not yet know, there is love and support. You just have to look for it. Take the plunge and open your heart, whether to a counsellor or a support group or the Samaritans. Do not hold the grief and pain to yourself - it is too great a burden to bear alone.

Although it seems that life has lost its meaning, you can find a new purpose.

The family you dreamed of will never be realised. You may go on to have other children but there will always be one missing. I know it may seem insensitive now to talk about the future but, one day, there may be another baby. Perhaps more? Rest assured that no future children will ever replace the one you have lost or diminish the love you have for your lost baby.

Take time to grieve. Find inner strength and courage. Build a sanctuary in your heart to keep your baby's memory safe. There is hope and in time, if you feel brave, you may embrace the fear and try again.

Yours faithfully,
Bereaved mother
xxx

Anniversary post

This blog has been active for one year now. How things have changed since I created the blog and wrote my first post about my life as mummy:

I'm still a working mummy (although I have reduced my hours) and my daughter has just turned 3. I am mummy to two babies but I have only one child.

There has been a change of tone in my posts since Monty died. I suppose this is inevitable but I don't intend for my life or my blog to be defined by his stillbirth. So, I try to write about positive family experiences at least as often as I write about my bereavement journey.

People say that 'time heals' and 'life goes on' but I don't think that's quite right. It's more that life continues around you; eventually, you find a way to participate again. I'll never 'move on' from losing Monty but I can move slowly towards my 'new normal'.

Something inside so strong

Apparently, yesterday was International Bereaved Mothers Day. I didn't know. It completely passed me by until I read someone else's post about it this morning. Do I wish we'd 'celebrated' it or acknowledged it in some way? Not really. I think about Monty every day and I hold his memory close. I don't need a special day for that. He is part of our family. He will always be missing and he will always be missed.

I do silently 'celebrate' the lessons I have learned through sharing my life with Monty, even though I never got to know him as a person. I have found inner strength and been reminded of how lucky I am to have supportive family and friends. I have re-assessed my priorities and attitude to life. We live in the moment more than we used to and value our family time, which is so precious.

People tell me that I am amazing. They marvel at how I am dealing with the loss of my son: how I manage to get up and dressed each morning; how I can talk freely about him and my experience; how I answer my daughter's questions and explain what happened over and over again. But I'm not amazing - I'm just dealing with bereavement the best I can.

I have to carry on with life. I have a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter and they need me. More than that, they need me to be me. I'll never be the same person I was before but I can be almost the same, with a few healed scars.

Mothering Sunday

I've never really celebrated Mothers' Day, although this year I did send a card to my mum. I have been treated to the longest lie-in I can remember and had banana muffins made for me by my husband and daughter. However, there is someone missing - my beautiful son.

So, to all the mummies who don't have their babies with them: I hope you manage to get through the day.

xxx