Today is the official birthday of our baby boy Arthur George who was born sleeping at 22 weeks of pregnancy. Legally he doesn’t exist as he has no birth certificate or death certificate as he didn’t draw breath. If he had he would technically have been alive.
TFMR
He was a termination for medical reasons known as TMR and it was the hardest decision myself and my husband have ever had to make (read more about it in this earlier post). We knew it was the right one to make as he wouldn’t have survived to full term passing anyway around 30 weeks so we felt it was the kindest decision. We still wondered and worried as to whether we were right.
Already grieving
We were still grieving the loss of Violet and then felt as though we were burying our last little bit of hope when we said goodbye to her brother. We entered a period of darkness even darker than we could imagine. The little flicker of hope we had extinguish completely when we were informed there was a 50/50 chance of future seriously ill babies like Arthur. A few months later we got the surprise news of another pregnancy. A pregnancy fraught with worry, stress and anguish as we wondered if once again the light we thought we could see at the end of the dark tunnel was in fact yet another high speed train set to derail us once again.
Aurora
Now exactly a year to the day we held and said goodbye to our little son I’m holding another 5 week old little daughter, Aurora.
Aurora at 3 weeks old.
We named her Aurora as it means “Goddess of the Dawn” and “Light”. We thought this was beautiful and had special resonance for us as we now can start to see daylight again through the fog.
Arthur
Happy birthday to our little rainbow Arthur George who taught us to dream and hope again after the loss of our first precious daughter Violet.
He also made us more determined to change more babies lives by raising more money for Violet’s cardiac surgery fund at Alder Hey Hospital. We set a date for the Violet Ball at the end of this month, 29th September at Radisson Edwardian hotel in Manchester you can get more information here. There are tickets still available and we are looking for raffle prizes too so if you can help please get in touch.
Emotional is probably the only constant state at the moment, as with the majority of new mums, never mind those who have gone through child loss. I’m facing a wave of different emotions everyday but unlike most new mums mine include sadness, feeling angry, confused (how can you feel immense pain & pleasure at same time) & devastated that my older children aren’t here too. I am a mother of three not one.
Midwives
The midwife service would ordinarily have signed me and baby off by now and passed our care onto the health visitors but given the extreme circumstances (loss of two children) they are keeping a close eye on me alongside the health visitors, which is nice in a way, as it is a total contradiction to the care we had 3 years ago where we were forgotten about for the first few weeks after we left hospital. We complained at the time to Manchester’s NHS trust and it resulted in a full restructure of procedures for new mum care in Greater Manchester, hopefully meaning high risk babies that have undergone surgery shortly after birth won’t now fall down the cracks as we did.
In a way this is probably also now the reason why both departments are now OTT with our care.
Me (tired & make up free but happy) with Aurora
Are you sure you’re ok?
Midwives and health visitors ask me how I’m doing then look at me carefully to observe my facial expressions & body language to see when I say that “I’m ok” if I’m being honest. They all looked surprised when I explained after Aurora was born healthy that for the first time in 9 months a lot of my anxiety and worry had lifted. I actually felt a huge sense of relief and was also in slight shock that at last the ordeal of waiting and wondering was over. She was finally here and was healthy. Sometimes it still feels surreal so I have to pinch myself to check I’m not just dreaming and other times I still find myself because of sleep deprivation accidentally calling Aurora Violet as though my brain has regressed in time. Although I’m led to believe this also happens often when you have multiple children who are alive too.
Anyway got to dash baby waking for a feed…thanks for reading.
Most people have never heard of an amazing charity called AvMA – Action Against Medical Accidents, probably because until the worst happens you have no need to seek them out.
Introduced to AvMA
We were introduced to this organisation by the Manchester coroners office, when we were first informed that there would be an inquest into our daughter Violet’s death at Manchester Children’s hospital.
The coroners team said it was highly likely that the Manchester NHS trust would employ their own barrister for the hearing, when it finally happened, and that they wanted us to feel supported, as though someone is on our side. They said they didn’t want us to be bullied by the trust’s representatives and that an organisation called AvMA might be able to help.
Legal aid?
You may now ask “well what about legal aid?” It turns out that no matter what your financial situation in this circumstance legal aid is not available for an inquest hearing. Can you imagine the additional heartbreak and stress for anyone who is grieving a loved one and believes their death might be because of negligence or an accident but has no free legal support? We were quoted upwards of £1000 by several solicitors to pay for legal advice and support for the inquest.
No win no fee?
You may ask “what about no win no fee” though but this also isn’t available for a coroner’s inquest as this hearing looks solely to find the cause of death not to apportion blame or result in any type of compensation. In order to get a pay out you would have to have a separate legal proceeding in front of a judge rather than a coroner and this would be after the inquest and is a separate legal action entirely.
AvMA
AvMA provides free independent advice and support to people affected by medical accidents (lapses in patient safety) through a specialist helpline, written casework and inquest support services. They can put patients in contact with accredited clinical negligence solicitors if appropriate. They also work in partnership with health professionals, the NHS, government departments, lawyers and, most of all, patients to improve patient safety and justice.
Our case
For us it meant having a trained barrister examine all the documents associated with Violet’s death and care whilst in Manchester Children’s hospital. This proved invaluable to us as she requested certain things we hadn’t noticed were missing, such as when we asked for a copy of Violet’s medical records the hospital hadn’t included any of her X Ray results, of which there were many. We then had time to request them ahead of the hearing.
Violet in hospital watching TV
Judy, the barrister that volunteered her services to us, was amazing. We had a conference call with her a few weeks before the inquest and were pleased to see that she’d pulled together a list of her main concerns that all tallied with ours. She had done extensive research, including combing through not just the post mortem report but also the medical reports and all of Violets notes (that we couldn’t bring ourselves to sift through again). She also consulted various medical professionals she knew to get their advice on things.
Support during the inquest
At the inquest itself both Julia the representative from AvMA and Judy our barrister were amazingly supportive. Judy asked all the questions we wanted and cross examined some of the witnesses, the various specialists and consultants responsible for Violets care while she was in the hospital. We passed Judy notes from the table behind with any additional questions that came to us while they were giving evidence, and before the coroner had finished with a witness, Judy always double checked with us that there was nothing else we needed to ask.
Saved further emotional trauma
I was originally instructed by the coroner to read out the police statement I had given immediately after Violet died and Judy said she could ask for me to be excused from doing this because I was heavily pregnant and the additional stress it would cause. We didn’t even realise this was an option and the coroner said he would admit the statement to the records as a printed document instead. This saved me having to undergo further emotional distress on the day.
Violet playing with her balloon the morning of the day she died
Outcome
Ultimately the inquest couldn’t bring Violet back and we got some answers but not really the resolution we wanted. However I’m not certain we would have received these same answers if we hadn’t have had AvMA and Judy helping us. It was a traumatic day with lots of tears, so I doubt we would have had the strength or wherewithal to ask so many questions ourselves. Their help and support at what was an extremely vulnerable time for us proved to be priceless.
Legal expenses
Judy and AvMA only invoiced us for their expenses, which totalled less than £200, including travel costs from London and an overnight stay, so when you consider the thousands a barrister would normally charge this was a bargain. We’ve since given a larger donation to the charity too, so we can help them to help someone else like us who find themselves in an impossibly heart wrenching situation.
Caring charity
AvMA operate as a charity offering support to parents and families like us whose loved ones have died or been seriously injured because of what might have been a medical accident. This will be the hardest most traumatic time in their lives and as a result they are certainly in need of support, especially around something that could result in answers, justice and in the case of proven negligence, when someone is seriously injured, later on a possible future financial payout too, that could make the difference to quality of life.
I know this charity isn’t as attractive or as immediately heart tugging as a animal, Children’s charity or a cancer cause but rest assured they can make a huge difference to people’s lives at a time when there world has just ended. When they are already struggling to deal with the grief and shock of losing someone, in our case our 15 month old daughter.
It won’t happen to me…
You never think this type of thing will happen to you. That one day your perfect little life bubble could burst and you lose a child or someone close to you but if this happens then you certainly need legal support from someone like AvMA as life at this time is overwhelming and devastating enough without adding a looming inquest to the list.
If you can afford to donate to this amazing charity, even if a small one, then please do so as you could help someone like us who has said goodbye to their child. If you’re a legal professional and would like to donate time or expertise to work with the charity to help someone like us then please do take a closer look as we’re so grateful to Judy for giving up her time and expertise to help us.
Barristers donating time
Judy explained to us that she understood a little of what we had gone through with Violet, as her daughter had been premature so she had spent lots of time with her in hospital and luckily she was healthy now but she knows how scary it can be to be a parent of a sick child. She said she can’t begin to imagine then losing them and then the stress of the coroner deciding to launch an inquest into what happened too. After reading our case she felt compelled to help us. A truly wonderful lady and we will be eternally grateful to her for her help and compassion.
Here’s a link about AvMA please take a look and consider giving them some support if you can
I’m now heavily pregnant so that means that strangers and anyone I meet can tell instantly that I am with child, which is fine I’m happy to talk about it.
Is it your first?
The difficulty comes when they ask if it is my first pregnancy and I have a policy of always telling the truth so when I say it is my third. I get comments like “wow you’ve got your hands full then”, “you must really know what you’re doing”, “you’re a glutton for punishment” and “are your other two excited about their little brother or sister”.
A photo I took of a mother with her two children paddling in the sea in Morocco
Try to move conversation on
Often I let them make a comment and then I move the conversation on without having to tell them that neither of this baby’s siblings are alive. Occasionally the person I’m talking to will bring the conversation back around again by asking what my existing two children are? Are they boys or girls? Then I have to explain that they were one of each but unfortunately they are no longer with us. I’m sure they would have been excited to have a little brother or sister.
What happened to your first two?
They then usually ask me what happened to my first two children and I tell them honestly or they nervously say “I’m so sorry” to which I answer “it’s ok” when clearly it isn’t then the conversation moves on.
Third time lucky?
People often tell me “oh hopefully this one will be third time lucky then” and I know this comes from a very good place filled with love. I know we were very unlucky to have had the situation with Arthur but I don’t feel we were unlucky to have had Violet. I know we were extremely fortunate to have known such a special little person if only for 15 months. We were very unlucky to have lost her but would happily repeat the time over again and again in the style of Groundhog day if we could – well maybe not the very last 6 hours or 10 days in hospital!
Here’s Violet having a showdown of attitude with her bigger cousin Evelyn. Sometimes I wonder what she’d have been like as a sister.
It makes being pregnant bittersweet and we are simply hoping this time to have a stress free birth experience too, as with Violet bless her we certainly had a lot of drama.
Last week was a hard week for us as it was our daughter’s third birthday. Along with the happy memories we also had memories of her difficult birth, where both of us nearly died, and the memory of her having heart surgery too.
When she was at Alder Hey in intensive care, when we couldn’t hold her she held our fingers & later on in her life she took comfort from holding hands.
First 10 days in hospitals
This time three years ago she spent her first 10 days in various NICU wards, at St Mary’s hospital first before she was transferred to Alder Hey hospital. In Liverpool she had open-heart surgery at just 4 days old.
We had to sign a million legal forms and contracts saying we knew the odds were stacked against her. That we knew she might not survive and return alive from the operating theatre. And that if she did there was a chance of brain damage; disabilities and the heart problem might not be “fixed”. We also knew her chance of survival without the operation was nil. She was only alive because of the additional hormones and support she was being given.
Off for heart surgery at 4 days old
I still remember the day she went off to the operating theatre that morning was only the second time I had actually held my daughter in the four days since her birth. The first time being the day after she was born just before she left St Mary’s Hospital in an ambulance for Alder Hey, with her daddy in a taxi in hot pursuit. We didn’t want her to be alone without at least one of us. I had to remain in St Mary’s because of all the injuries I sustained during labour and as soon as I could I was discharged to head over to Liverpool.
The second time I held her just before her heart operation
We told her about exciting plans
The days before her operation and the hours before it we spent time talking to her about what we were going to do together once she was out of the hospital. We chatted about all the different people she would meet, describing friends and family members to her in detail. We spoke about all the places we would take her to including New Zealand to see her Uncle Tom. Cyprus to see her Aunty Mel and Bali for mummy & daddy’s honeymoon. We chatted about her Grandma and Nanna. Said she would learn to swim.
We basically described to her then the life she ended up having crammed into a 15-month period. I wish I had have mentioned university and her own children to her then perhaps she’d have stayed around for longer!
Violet in Cyprus in April 2016
The journey to operating theatre
When they took her down to the operating theatre I couldn’t watch. I knew I would end up screaming and it would distress Violet, so instead I collapsed onto the floor of the nearby family room sobbing. Her brave daddy on the other hand walked her down to the operating theatre. Talking calming to her the whole time reassuring her. Reminding her how much she was loved. How strong she was and that she could do this.
The bond between father & daughter was strong from day one
Then we waited for an eternity
Then commenced the longest 8 hours of our life as we hung around the hospital waiting for a phone call. We finally received it saying she was out and still alive! We were so relieved but our hearts sank when we returned to the NICU ward to be told that the specialist team wanted to speak to us before we saw her. We thought oh no this is where we get told something bad has happened. We were told the opposite that the surgeon thought it was an 100% success. He felt she wouldn’t need any other operations on that part of her heart again ever.
You know what we discovered he was 100% right too, as her post mortem showed his operation was a permanent fix. This is the reason we are fundraising in her name for Alder Hey. So superstar surgeons can continue to work their magic on baby’s that are told they only have a slim chance of survival.
Now it feels like a story
Last week these memories all felt like it was someone else’s story, as though it was a different life and it played in my mind like a feature length film.
Thoughts of ordinary things
The thing I found hardest was the realization that ordinarily I would have spent the weekend before her birthday preparing for it. Buying her gifts, cards and organizing a birthday party for her. Then the night before I’d have been putting an excited little girl to bed and wrapping her presents to set up for the morning.
Here she’s opening first birthday presents & getting excited about bows!
Party and gift planning
This year instead of planning her party the weekend before I focused on doing some planning for the Violet Ball to be held in her memory on 29thSeptember to raise money for Alder Hey to thank them for saving her life at 4 days old.
Instead of wrapping her presents the night before her birthday we decided to make up little “Random act of kindness” parcels containing little packets of sweets, including Parma Violets. Then on her birthday we distributed them all around the area where we live. Including taking some to her nursery. Leaving some on the benches near the playgrounds in the local parks where she loved the swings. We left some near the mural on Beech Road that has a violet coloured balloon in her memory. Some near to where she attended Babel Baby classes. We placed some on benches in the cemetery close to her grave, after we took her birthday balloons.
The challenge now will be deciding what we do next year for her fourth birthday? Please let us know your ideas as all will be considered.
Everyone talks about “rainbow” pregnancies and what a blessing they are.
Joy of a rainbow
It is very true that when we were expecting Arthur we were overjoyed and all of a sudden we had a new lease of life. We had hope for our future, as a family and truly believed the sun was shining on us again.
Optimism for future
Yes we were still immensely sad about Violet and our grief for her was still strong but we had a renewed sense of optimism towards the future especially after we had Arthur’s 16 week scan and they confirmed that unlike Violet’s his heart looked ok. We were ecstatic and so relieved that we genuinely looked forward to his 20 week scan as they would double check his heart again in more detail but if there were any slight abnormalities then they would be minor.
Finally announced our pregnancy
We were so pleased and reassured by his 16 week scan results that we even felt confident enough to let friends and others know we were now expecting. That in January 2018 Violet was going to be a big sister.
Bad news at 20 weeks
Then we had the 20-week scan. Arthur’s heart did still look ok but what didn’t look right was his brain. The sonographer wouldn’t/couldn’t tell us too much other than his brain didn’t look how it was supposed to look and she would have to refer us to a top specialist. Our world crumbled. We then had to wait over a week before we could see a specialist to get more details.
Heart broken again
We were heartbroken. The fact that something might have been wrong with his brain hadn’t even dawned on us, as we almost expected a heart defect and as we knew from our experience with Violet that wouldn’t necessarily have been a deal breaker as a heart can be fixed but a brain? The interim week waiting to see the specialist was one of the longest in our lives and in the meantime I could feel little Arthur kicking and wriggling around much more hyperactive than Violet had been.
You can’t repair a brain
When we finally saw the specialist he explained that Arthur’s brain had declined and become even more severe, just in the week since our previous scan. The issue was the amount of fluid in his brain, which was already so vast it had crushed most remaining parts of the brain including the area responsible for reflex and animal impulses like breathing and swallowing. The increased movement from Arthur was put down to the nerves being over stimulated by the fluid sloshing around his brain.
His symptoms weren’t even anywhere near the borderline and in fact he was so beyond this that the prognosis was that he might at best reach 30 weeks of pregnancy and then would die. His head would be so large and full of fluid that he wouldn’t be able to be birthed and would have to be removed through caesarean section, which could have complications for me too and given my age we were told if we still wanted other children then losing him earlier would be the kindest option for everyone.
TFMR
We explored every alternative but I couldn’t bear the thought of my little boy suffering (incidentally his deformity had affected him so badly that they couldn’t even identify his gender through the scan) and it wasn’t until I birthed him at 22 weeks that we realised he was a little boy. Having to end his life was the hardest decision we have ever had to make but the thought of him suffering and declining further was too much to bear.
Having to give birth to him was traumatic and extremely upsetting. We did get to meet our little boy while he still looked like a healthy but tiny baby and he was beautiful like a miniature version of his daddy with dark brown hair. We spent several days saying goodbye to him in hospital and gave him a funeral service before burying his ashes with his sister almost a year to the day that we lost her too.
Guilt mixed with grief
We will never forget our little boy and we miss him more than imaginable but it is a very different type of grief to that that we have over Violet. We knew her, shared experiences together, heard her laugh, babble away incessantly and have a million photos of her that we can look at too. In a way this makes it easier as we have constant beautiful reminders of our memories of Violet. I find I’m much angrier at the world over Violet because she had battled and overcome so much in her short life that it feels much more cruel for her to have been taken away as she was.
The world can be cruel
Grieving Arthur is much more difficult as his loss so early was our decision however his brain abnormalities weren’t and he would never have survived to full term anyway. Never been able to breathe or swallow unaided if he had survived to full term. It is the cruelty of us having to endure this on top of losing Violet that I find very hard to bear. I remember screaming “how much pain do they want us to go through”, “what have we done to deserve this” and “how cruel is the world”.
After the rainbow
People talk about rainbow babies and how they are “God’s gift” well Arthur did fill us with hope for the future before it was cruelly ripped from us again. I’m often asked why I don’t believe in God and this is the reason why.
Now we are struggling to discover what there is “somewhere over the rainbow” or as I like to say we are somewhere after the rainbow; what happens when you’ve had a rainbow and it is faded and disappeared?
We look for the next one I guess and try to keep positive.
Well we’re very nearly there as this week hopefully our nearly two year long battle for answers about what happened to our daughter Violet and caused her untimely death will come to the fore.
Inquest
Ever since she died suddenly on 26th September 2016 we have been chasing hospitals, lodging complaints, hounding for the release of medical records, researching the strange medical terminology and random disease mentions that appear in her post mortem report and waiting for the coroner to finally set a date for the inquest hearing. Finally after over 18 months we got a date and it is this week.
Will this be the light at the end of our tunnel? (photos taken beneath a glacier in Iceland)
AvMA
Fortunately a legal charity called AvMA have now agreed to support us with a barrister to act as our mouthpiece during the hearing and she will ask questions on our behalf. We are so relieved about this as were dreading having to question witnesses ourselves. She has also offered to read out my witness statement on my behalf and this has lifted a lot of my dread, as I was worried it would be too traumatic to stand and relive these moments in the courtroom although I know some parents can find this somewhat cathartic.
Questions for barristers
My husband and I spent time this weekend drafting questions for our barrister that we would ideally like to be addressed and it is traumatic thinking again about our precious daughter’s last days and moments. Running through all the “what ifs” in our heads that we know may or may not be answered with any certainty.
Stress and worry
The stress and worry about this week has actually given me a mental block to my writing so apologies for no recent insightful blog posts.
I do have lots of lovely more uplifting things to write about and post, involving travel to amazing places but at the moment these seem too trivial and frivolous to me to be able to focus on when we have more serious emotional events looming.
Stay tuned and I’ll hopefully be able to check in with you all in a week’s time having discovered the light at the end of the tunnel.
I often hear parents with more than one child talk about the guilt they feel about spending more time with one over the other. About how guilty that makes them, as they try to give equal attention and time to each child. Well what happens when you have several children but they are no longer living?
Their shared graveside
Second child syndrome
I frequently feel guilt over my second born Arthur because he gets forgotten in favour of his big sister Violet, who is centre stage in everything & poor Arthur as the second child is pushed to one side almost ignored.
Our rainbow Arthur
We never knew Arthur.
Yes I felt him move inside of me. People, our family & friends never met him. He never babbled at people. He never laughed or cried. He never pointed at anything he wanted looking for someone to fetch it for him. He never sighed and rolled his eyes when I attempted to sing poorly. He never looked annoyed when someone sang nursery rhymes to him out of tune. He never orchestrated control of a room full of toddlers & adults so they danced to his tune, despite not saying a word. He never made his displeasure felt through tantruming. He never banged a drum or read a book. He never smiled. He never held a balloon or shrieked with excitement if he spotted a cat or dog. He never saw or rode on an airplane or a boat. He never danced along to music. He never opened his eyes to look around. He never even took a breath or made a sound.
Legally he doesn’t exist
Technically & legally he doesn’t exist, as he was born sleeping at 22 weeks, so he doesn’t have a birth or a death certificate. He did have his own crematorium service and his ashes were buried with his sister. He has his own name in flowers on their grave and in time his name will be written on their shared gravestone but bless him he doesn’t have a lot to remember that he was here.
A photo of Arthur
Easier to talk about Violet
It’s much easier for us to remember and to talk about Violet as lots of people knew her. There are lots of shared memories we can all draw on. We have thousands of photos and some video footage of her. She even had her own circle of friends, who we always remember at Christmas and their birthdays, as that would be what she’d have wanted.
No shared memories or friends
Arthur bless him doesn’t have any shared memories or friends. He didn’t impact any people other than our immediate family but he is still special to us. We still fight to try to get answers for his condition, in the hope that research might help others out there too. In time we will probably fundraise for charity for him also so he has a legacy alongside his sister’s. We’ve chosen to focus on our first child for now, as there’s a clearer legacy path for her. In her memory we will focus on helping other babies to have life saving heart surgery either here in the UK at Alder Hey Hospital or overseas in third world countries through a great charity called Healing Little Hearts.
Photos
This blog is full of photos of Violet and that’s great because we have lots of her. She loved having her photo taken too. It is important for us to recognise that just because we can’t share lots of photos of Arthur or share amusing anecdotes about what he was like as a person it doesn’t mean he isn’t thought about or loved by us.
Violet at 1 year old
I like to think too that if they were both still alive today that Violet would definitely still be stealing the limelight away from her little brother, as much as humanely possible. She would certainly boss him around so maybe him playing second fiddle is just a symptom of him being second born, whether he is alive or not?
What do you think? Do you feel guilty about spending more time with one child over another? Does one of them hog the limelight over a shyer sibling?
When I was pregnant with Arthur I remember we were so happy and filled with hope for the future; even more so after his 16-week scan where they checked his heart and confirmed that unlike his older sister’s it was perfectly symmetrical.
I threw myself into getting prepared for the new pregnancy and baby, which included signing up for Pregnancy Yoga and Pilates courses.
Mindfulness
I remember I was so looking forward to the classes. They’d give me chance to focus on this new little life inside me and to try to be positive about the future. I was also looking forward to building a support network of new friends who would be pregnant like me and so would be able to share the experience with some peers too. We’d done NCT classes when pregnant with Violet and gained friends from it. They were then like a support network through pregnancy and baby’s first year.
How chilled out I felt after the first Pilates session
When I registered for the classes I made sure to let the organisers know my sad story about losing Violet the previous September and she said she’d make the teachers aware of this.
Anyway my first class, which was Pilates went well and afterwards all the participants chatted together about their pregnancies. It was very welcoming and inclusive just what I’d have hoped for.
How I hoped my pregnancy yoga would be
My second class, which was Yoga wasn’t anywhere near as relaxing or positive as I had hoped it would be. Lots of the same ladies were at this one that had been at the Pilates class, so it started off very friendly and welcoming again at the start.
Lack of communication
We then took our places and mats to begin the session. The teacher announced that she wasn’t the one we were meant to have and she had been asked to step in at the last minute. Still no red flags in my eyes.
Then she asked everyone to begin by introducing themselves, what stage of pregnancy they were at and if it was your first baby or not. If it wasn’t your first baby then how old your other children were? Were they looking forward to their brother or sister? I felt my positive little safe space and new support network crumble like a house of cards!
Honest words
They went round the circle and I was one of the last, so I spoke about my second pregnancy. I told them all that I had had a little girl who died at 15 months old, just 9 months earlier. How I imagine she’d be delighted to have a new brother or sister but alas she was no longer here. There was total silence and shock in the room you couldn’t even hear anyone breathing. Finally the teacher said how sorry she was to hear the news and thanked me for being so honest in sharing with the group. I remember everyone being in shock and blankly staring at me. Even when the final girl had started talking about her pregnancy, they were still in shock looking at me. How I managed not to break down I don’t know.
Longest yoga class ever
Then we moved on with the class. I think it was the longest Yoga class of my life. Only one of the other participants looked over and smiled at me, reassuring me to check I was ok. Most other class members even those I had spoken to at the earlier Pilates class now avoided my eye contact. At the end of the class the majority of people rushed off desperate to escape quickly, so they didn’t have to face speaking to me or dealing with any emotional heartache. Perhaps they were worried I had some contagious “all my kids die” disease. Maybe they are right?
The one girl who had smiled at me earlier, came up saying how she was blown away by my strength and she just felt the need to give me a hug. The teacher then apologised for having put me in that position in the first place. She said how brave she thought I was, that I had shared what happened so honestly with the group. Then the tears came and I found myself crying all over the teacher and this poor girl who was 40 weeks pregnant and due to give birth anytime!
Devastated
When I got home I was so upset I wrote to the organisers to say how a class I was supposed to find relaxing had become super stressful and emotionally fraught. It certainly wasn’t the Zen experience I had hoped for! They apologised for the miscommunication with the stand in teacher and said they’d give me an extra session for free if I continued with the course. They reassured me all teachers would be briefed about my situation.
I continued with the sessions (Yoga and Pilates) but they just weren’t the same, as I now received pitying looks from all the participants who simply felt sorry for me. The welcoming feeling I had felt at that first Pilates session was now gone and I was an outcast in the group, cast aside by the others. A few of them occasionally spoke to me but it was more so they could settle their curiosity about what had happened to Violet.
Don’t get me wrong if anyone had openly asked about Violet or whether I had other children, I would have told them the truth anyway. I would have preferred a chance for them to get to know me a little first, before they learnt my sad news as that’s the basis of friendship. It needs to be built from mutual understanding and shared interests rather than pity.
Hope shattered
Then when I lost Arthur at 22 weeks of course I contacted the course organisers and they refunded my subscription costs. I asked then perhaps if I could switch onto a postnatal Yoga course so I could try to heal. I was told that they didn’t advise this as it would be too emotionally distressing as everyone would be talking about their babies and my story would upset everyone else in the class too. Instead I was recommended to try some other sessions that after further research were designed for the elderly and infirm. I decided I couldn’t face attending a class full of geriatrics!
I was devastated that when you think of how many women sadly go through miscarriages, stillbirths and other troubled pregnancies that there are no Yoga or Pilates classes designed for those who have suffered loss. Surely we need it even more than those who have birthed a healthy baby who is still alive?
Music really does stir the soul and it can also retrieve memories you forgot you had made.
Whitney Houston
The other day I was driving in the car and a Whitney Houston song came on the radio “I have nothing”. The lyrics are pretty emotional anyway if you listen to them.
“Don’t make me close one more door
I don’t want to hurt anymore
Stay in my arms if you dare
Or must I imagine you there
Don’t walk away from me
I have nothing, nothing, nothing
If I don’t have you, you, you, you, you”
When I heard it start I remembered how much my daughter Violet had liked listening to the great divas sing. Then I remembered that this was also the first Whitney song she ever heard and the entire memory of that came flooding back.
Listening to music with her favourite toy elephant
The memory
I remember that she was about six months old at the time and already had her own playlist on my i-tunes. A playlist that already contained Katherine Jenkin’s 50 romantic arias, all the Adele albums and a few Jennifer Hudson tunes too. She had very particular musical tastes and disliked nursery rhymes. I would play different tunes to her and from a young age she’d let me know if she liked them or not. If she did then they’d be added to her play list. She enjoyed listening to her chosen songs while she read, played or relaxed.
Anyway as she was chilling out with a book that day I suddenly thought ohhh what about a bit of Whitney, I bet she’d like Whitney Houston and the first song I played for her was “I have nothing”.
Whenever a new song came on for the first time Violet adopted a look of concentration and would stop whatever she was doing to listen, making her mind up as to whether to continue focussing or not quite quickly. Violet continued concentrating on the Whitney song and then when she heard her hit the first big note a wide beaming smile appeared on her face. She continued to listen in silence, simply smiling after she hit all the big notes and then at the end of the song Violet was so delighted she actually clapped!
I rapidly downloaded all of Whitney’s Greatest hits onto her playlist for her. She had one of the most particular musical tastes of a baby ever. I often wonder whether she would have had a musical future either as a musician or behind the scenes.
Emotion
The retrieval of this memory reduced me to tears in the car and luckily I wasn’t far from home but I gave the hubby a fright when I pulled onto the driveway in floods of tears!
Are there songs that have brought back happy or painful memories for you? Feel free to share them
