Breakdown In Communication

I guess it was inevitable but I had a little breakdown at work this morning. I’m not proud, I know it doesn’t look good as no one should bring their drama to work with them but it’s been made worse by the fact that I’m only temping here. Oh well, so much for trying to make a good impression. Instead I must look like a mental case.

My only saving grace is that a couple of the people I work with know about Bobby so they were sympathetic.

The morning began with me waking up 20 minutes before I should have been at work and then the OH and I had an argument; a pretty bad argument to be honest. I left for work, turned my mobile off and turned up an hour late. When I arrived I was already trying to hold the tears in. I sit at a reception desk and as usual there was a constant a flow of engineers coming to and from my desk. This morning everyone kept asking me how I was which made me feel worse until eventually the tears flowed.

A short while after, I turned my phone on to find 3 text messages from my OH obviously still reeling from the morning’s argument. Feeling the tears welling up I went to the toilet to reply back and for the first time since Bobby’s death, I explained in the text exactly how I felt. How I cry myself to sleep each night, how I know I’m a cr * p girlfriend at the moment, how I’m tired emotionally and physically, how my heart aches so much because I miss my Son and how all I want is for us to be a family, how all I want is for things to be ‘normal’ again. He replied explaining he also couldn’t sleep, he constantly worries about things; work, money, us. The end of his text read; ‘I too think of Bobby everyday and wipe away a tear’.

This is the first time we have properly talked about our inner most true feelings and we did it via stupid text message. I now realise why everyone keeps telling me that communication is very important at this time.

As I have mentioned previously, it is our 11th Anniversary next week and we will hopefully get to spend the weekend together.

Looking back, I realise that since Bobby, we have not spent a single weekend together without either someone coming around or the both of us are off doing our own thing. I have spent the last three weekends around friends or families houses while he’s off fishing with his.

If we are going to make it to 11 year mark, then we need to start spending some time together.

I really hope we make it.

... (2)

I’m feeling quite depressed and extremely tired right now.

We should have been happy that we were now 30 weeks with only 10 weeks to go.

He should be moving around inside my stomach giving me heartburn or a good kick in the ribs; instead our baby is lying in a coffin in the ground, still, cold.

Lifeless.

Consultant Appointment

We had an appointment with a Consultant at the hospital at 2:30pm yesterday afternoon.

What a waste of time that was; or maybe not I can’t decide to be honest. Somehow though, I managed to walk out of there with some sort of slight closure even though we were not told anything new.

We arrived there to be greeted by the Consultant, the head M/W {I think} and a wacky looking Counsellor.

We spent 45 minutes there, which consisted of the Consultant reading through my notes and me adding my pointers as to what he had missed out or gotten wrong. He explained why I was left there for 3 hours waiting to be seen by a Doctor when Bobby had a heartbeat and I explained how it felt to be left there waiting to be seen by a Doctor for 3 hours when Bobby had a heartbeat, wondering WTF was going on and if our boy was going to make it or not.

I explained how I was told by the ambulance woman that they would be able to put the cord back in and how I was told it was quite common. I explained how I got there and waited for that to happen but it didn’t. I explained how it felt to be left there asking when the Doctor would arrive time and time again only to be told each time that he was in an emergency operation and how I thought ‘Well what exactly am I, not an emergency?’

You get my point…

All the way through this the Counsellor butted in asking me questions on how this made me feel blah blah blah.

The Consultant explained that the tests from the bloods and placenta showed nothing abnormal and how because we didn’t opt for a PM they couldn’t confirm exactly why he died.

I explained how we didn’t want a PM as we knew how he died. It was the infection.

I explained how I went to the hospital three days before my waters broke and how my urine sample showed no signs of infection and how my cervix was closed and how when three days later my Doctor confirmed that the waters hadn’t broken and yes I had an infection and yet then two days later when I had my 20 week ultrasound; everything was finally made clear…

I also brought up that I had written a formal complaint about the way we were left and what the response letter had said.

The head M/W asked me if there was anything I would like to take back to her staff to help deal with any future women in my position and I simply said ‘tell them what’s going on, let them know what is going to happen instead of letting them imagine what would happen and if it’s bad news then its bad news, just don’t let them get their hopes up for no reason like I did’.

They made a note of it.

The Councillor asked my OH how he felt to which I thought ‘oh dear’ because he had refused to attend at first because he didn’t want to speak to the Councillor but he simply said ‘well it’s sh * t but we are coping and I don’t have any unanswered questions’.

We were then asked if we had thought about trying again or if we thought it was too soon but I explained that we were trying but without any pressure this time; if it happens then it happens.

The Consultant advised that as soon as I know I am pregnant I should call his department so that he can set the wheels in motion for me to have an early scan and swabs taken to monitor any possible future infection.

The M/W went on to explain the difference between trying to save a baby at 22 weeks and a baby at 23 weeks. Simply put as I understood it; Bobby was unlucky. Had my cord prolapsed a week later, they most probably would have delivered him there and then. It was simply a lottery we didn’t win.

We were advised that if we wanted to see a Councillor then the service was there. I’m not sure if I will be seeing a Councillor. The one I met this afternoon I definitely wont be seeing. If I am going to open my heart to someone I want to gel with them and I certainly didn’t with her. She has given me her card if I would like to book an appointment so I think I will sleep on it for a couple of days and see how my emotions go.

This whole grief malarkey is confusing as hell.

I took a pregnancy test on Friday; of course it was negative but now I know that the moment I do get a positive, it’s the new pregnancy and no longer Bobby. In a way the negative gives me a fresh start but as strange as it may sound, it is the final confirmation that Bobby is gone, that my pregnancy with him is over and there is absolutely no trace of my boy left within my body.

Questions Answered

I’m sitting at work but I can’t concentrate.

We have an appointment with the Consultant at the hospital at 2:30pm this afternoon.

It is to go over the reasons why our Son died, to go over the results of the blood test taken straight after his birth and the tests from the placenta to see if there was anything abnormal from both. It will also be the first time I get to meet with the Counsellor to discuss any possible sessions with her. The Consultant will apparently go over any care that I will receive in any further pregnancies.

The thing is I know why Bobby died. We have it confirmed in the letter which we received last week from the Chief Exec of the hospital. As written previously I looked into possible liability action against the hospital and my Doctor for firstly not noticing that my waters had broken and for secondly being left with the umbilical cord hanging out for hours despite Bobby having a heartbeat when we got there.

However every solicitor I spoke to agreed that yes errors were made and that I should have been treated differently but they would not be able to find the evidence to prove that had anything been any different, he would have lived. Instead they told me to make a formal written complaint to my hospital of which I did and of which resulted in the letter.

The letter apologised, quite a lot and explained that there had been an investigation into my complaint. He advised that because there was no pulse from the cord when I arrived at the hospital, it was inevitable that our Son would die as once it stops, it can not be restarted again. He apologised that I was not advised of this by the MW at the time. This had been the main thing which had haunted me for weeks. The questions of was our son left to die, could he be alive today had he been monitored when we got to the hospital? The answer to both questions is no. From the time the cord came out to the time he died was 2 hours. The questions, did he suffer, did he know what was happening; no Doctor can answer but I may just ask the Consultant today anyway, just to see what he says.

I took a pregnancy test on Friday, of course it was negative but now I know that the moment I do get a positive, it’s the new pregnancy and no longer Bobby.

It’s our 11 year anniversary on the 2nd September and we are planning on going away for the weekend. The full plans are yet to be arranged/agreed on, but I think it’s what we need. I want to be able to turn off our mobiles and to be as far away from London to feel as though it’s just the two of us on our own, to re-jog our memories as to what it was like to spend time together and to actually have some fun. We used to have a lot of fun. I miss that most about us.

Right, back to work before payroll are on my case asking where these hours are.

Looking Back Over Her Shoulder

We should have been twenty-nine weeks today. It just doesn’t seem real anymore. It honestly feels like I was never pregnant; as though I dreamt it all. That person I was back in February is someone I no longer recognise.

This person I once was, cried her eyes out because she couldn’t believe she was actually pregnant after 28 months worth of tears over the dreaded AF arriving.

The twelve week scan showed a healthy, long legged baby kicking away, jumping around like ‘he’ was having a rave at a house party and she couldn’t believe her eyes that that baby on that screen was her baby growing inside her.

A few more weeks passed and she started to feel the kicks. She got to know the baby’s pattern and she loved every single one as though it was the very first time she had felt it.

A few more weeks after that and the pelvic pains started but she brushed them off as growing pains. Bob was still kicking daily so all was ok as far as she was concerned.

Go forward another couple of weeks and her waters broke. She new deep down that they were her waters but didn’t want to believe it; surely if it was then she would be in labour right now … wouldn’t she?

She went to the doctors that afternoon and listened as he told her that no the waters had not broken but she knew deep down that they had and she kicked herself for not going to the hospital there and then but she was too tired to; so she accepted what the Doctor told her. She took herself back home and carried on as if everything was alright although she knew deep down they were not.

Two days later while waiting in the reception for the twenty week scan she knew something was going to happen and yet again she was right. She was told her baby was going to die all because of some stupid infection which she knew she had all along but brushed them off as growing pains. She knew that had she had come to the hospital just two day before things may have been different now.

Ten days she spent in hospital, bonding with her baby which she had known all along was a boy despite both scans not being clear enough to see. She started to gain a little bit of hope that maybe, just maybe her boy was strong enough to last a couple more weeks and then when he was old enough she would explain to him what a miracle baby he was, because despite everyone saying he was going to die, he didn’t. He had lived to prove them all wrong.

She knew on that Saturday she was discharged that she really shouldn’t be going home but she went because she wanted to prove everyone wrong. She went because she missed her surroundings and her OH and she was worried about money of all things.

She knew a week later when she started bleeding that something major was going to happen but that it was now too late to do anything about it. That the journey was finally going to end and that she had no choice but to sit back and go along with it all; because deep down she had always known that something was going to happen and never for one moment should she have got her hopes up that this time it would be any different.

She woke that Thursday morning to find the umbilical cord hanging there and she knew that she should have woken up in hospital that morning because had she stayed as she knew she should have, then they would have been able to do something straight away.

Despite being taken by ambulance and holding onto the umbilical for dear life to keep it warm, she was surprised that Bob’s heartbeat was pounding away. For the first time in twenty two weeks she finally had proper hope that maybe, just maybe he would become her miracle baby.

At 8:45am Thursday 2nd July 2009, as she suffered a panic attack while laying in the hospital bed still holding onto the cord trying to keep it warm; trying to keep Bob alive, she knew this was the moment that Bob had died inside of her. At 10:20am the ultrasound confirmed what she knew all along’ that here was no heartbeat.

Her little miracle had become an Angel and the one thing which she had been dreading for the past three weeks and which she had asked the M/W’s about during her ten day stay, was now going to happen.

21 hours after he had died and 16 hours after the induction started; he was delivered into silence. He was silent, the room was silent. The only noise in the room was that of her screaming and her OH sobbing away to her right hand side, his head buried deep into the side of the bed.

Sarah the Midwife confirmed that the baby was of course a Boy and life since then has become a blur of confusion, of guilt or what if’s.

I’m thankful I no longer recognise this person I write about above. This person and I have serious issues with each other which will never be resolved. Why … simply because this person did not stand up nor speak out when she knew something/someone was not right.

She went along with it all, instead of taking charge to protect her unborn Son and herself.

The new person I now see reflected before me every time I look into the mirror will stand up for what she believes in and she will never let anything like this happen to her or her family ever again.

Warning - PMA Post!

I’ve decided to write a positive post about Bobby’s death. Not something I ever expected to think about doing, let alone type but although things are still hard deep in my heart, stomach and up there in my mushy brain; it is slowly getting better. Extremely slowly mind but it is getting better.

Today I called the cemetery to ask if the shared grave he is in was full and how long it would be before we could place our memorial onto our section of the grave. As it turns out there are three babies to be buried tomorrow and they will be the last to go in. How horrible is it to have to wait for babies to die just so we can place our memorial. It’s something I can’t think too much about right now as it’s just another thing to overcome in the long process of closure.

The lady on the phone explained that it was best to wait at least 9-12 months before placing the memorial onto the grave. Having never dealt with graves first hand before, I presumed that we would have to wait a few months at the most.

Ok so where is the positive in this post …bear with me while I remember where I left it.

Tomorrow I am going to call the Doctor’s as I need to have my Rubella injection redone as it has run out or something. While I am there I may as well also ask him to do a urine test to make sure that the infection which killed Bobby has now gone. I want to be assured that when I do get pregnant again; the pregnancy won’t start off with an infection in tow.

I finished my first AF on Sunday so I guess the next time we BD we will be trying… We spoke about trying again yesterday. My OH explained that he is scared about getting pregnant again and believe me he’s not the only one. If at all possible we have agreed to keep it a secret from the outside world until our twenty week scan. If I am as big at that stage as I was with Bobby then it will be a hard thing to keep a secret but it needs to be done. There is no way I am jinxing anything and as it was the day we found out about Bobby’s prognosis; as long as the scan goes ok then I guess we will feel a little more easier about the new pregnancy although far from 100% comfortable until that baby is in our arms streaming its head off. I hate the fact that the innocence of pregnancy has been stolen from us along with our Boy.

Ok now for the positive bit ...

I’ve been thinking about how my life has changed for the better since Bobby went to where he is now. I guess this is so my brain can process why it happened and make it seem as though there was a reason for it all.

• Since Bobby’s death the OH and I have become so much closer then I ever thought possible. We will be together 11 years in two weeks time and I can honestly say that Bobby has shown me sides to my OH of which I never realised were there. I really now can not imagine my life without him. {Not that I will tell him that}

• I discovered an inner strength which I didn’t realise was there. I knew before hand that I had a strong pain threshold and that I could push my body to certain limits when required; but I never thought I could do the same emotionally.

• The past two months have made me realise how close I am to my family. Both my parents were at the birth and although at first I didn’t want them to be, I don’t know if I could have gotten through it had it not of been for my Mum sitting beside my bed aaaall afternoon, night and morning, only ever leaving my side a couple of times to use the toilet. She proved over that period that the love for your child really is the greatest love of all. My true friends showed themselves in bright bold colours too and remain to do so. There are still some people who I considered to be good friends who were advised at the time of the situation and yet who have made no contact since. Not even a text to say ‘I’m sorry’. I’m grateful to Bobby for clearing out the trash in my life.

• He has given me a kick up the bum as to work and study too. I’ve always wanted to be a Teaching Assistant for challenged children. I looked into it while pregnant with him but due to being pregnant and the course being a year long, no one would then take me on. Now I have got myself a job; ok it’s only temping but it’s a start and I am currently looking into taking a home learning course possibly studying Child Psychology

• Lastly and most importantly he has opened my eyes to what life is really like. Yes it is mostly sh t, but when its good, its brilliant. The good parts must to be grabbed at, remembered and stored away for a later date to then be taken back out to give you a much needed smile when you need it most.

I look forward to that day when every time I think of Bobby I smile. I look forward to my future with him eternally right beside me, whispering ‘Come on Mummy be brave, you can do it’.

Life is but a Mystery

I’m sitting here at work where I should be doing last week’s payroll but my mind really isn’t on the job. I feel like I’m currently in a little bubble where I’m not sure what is reality and what isn’t, nor am I sure what to expect next.

Thursday night I had a mini breakdown while lying in bed trying to get to sleep. When I say a breakdown I mean I cried ‘hard’; the hardest I have cried since the week after Bobby’s death. So much so that when I woke Friday morning I had to go to work with swollen eyes. What a lovely look.

The OH went fishing on Thursday afternoon, which meant that Thursday evening was the first time I had an evening to myself for a good few weeks. I was looking forward to this evening by myself so that I could come home from work, chill out on the laptop, have an ‘early’ night and to maybe clear out Bobby’s clothes which were still hanging up in the wardrobe and to feel free to have the freedom to cry if I needed to without trying to hide it from my OH.

I did all of that apart from clearing his clothes out. I did that Friday after work before catching the train to go down to my parents for the weekend.

Taking his clothes out of the wardrobe really wasn’t as bad as I had imagined it would be. It was actually quite peaceful and although I got a little upset imagining what he should have looked like in some of the items, I didn’t find it as hard as I had built it up to be.

As originally planned, the items which we brought specifically for Bobby or what were brought for him by friends and family were placed into his memorial box. I don’t feel comfortable with the thought of our next child wearing Bobby’s clothes. What I didn’t want to keep I took with me to my parents and thankfully sold most of them at the car boot which we did on Sunday/yesterday.

I must admit having pregnant women coming up to our stall and looking through what should have been my Son’s clothes was hard and I did have to hold back the tears on a couple of occasions but it had to be done.

My 8 year old cousin would was with us came up to me during the day, gave me a cuddle and asked why Bobby had died. If only some adults were as interested as what she is.

I explained that Bobby was very special as he was needed to go to heaven so that he could look after those who he loved down here on Earth and that he was watching over us making sure we were ok. ‘He can’t see me!’ my Cousin said. I explained that he can see everyone and that she should be a good girl because she never knows when he is watching her. ‘But he can’t see everyone at once though’, she said. I replied with that because he was in Heaven he could do magical things and so he could look down on whoever he wanted whenever he wanted. Thankfully she didn’t come back with another smart comment because I had run out of responses lol.

I bought some Folic Acid tablets on Saturday which I have started to take to prepare my body for its next passenger when they should decide to board. We started TTC last night too. I think maybe that’s why my head is a little cloudy today because my mind is now constantly half full of ‘will it be next month’ and then half full of ‘don’t forget not to forget about Bobby’. I’m trying not to get my hopes up that this time next year we will finally have our Earth family but I can’t help it already.

Only time will tell.

What NOT to Say to An Angel Mummy

It was my best friends, little girl’s party on Saturday and we had to transform her court yard into a beach; queue the above photo.

It was a good day but a day where I met up with a lot of people for the first time since Bobby’s death.

I found out throughout the day, that my friend had obviously not told everyone the full story of Bobby’s death. I can’t remember the amount of times I had to re-account the events nor see the look of pity on people’s faces when I mentioned that, no I had infact gone through labour to deliver a dead child and yes! there was a funeral. What do people think happens to a baby after it is born asleep exactly? Where do they think they would possibly go?

I heard so many clichés that day I could write a fre aking Masters Degree Exam Paper on the subject.

The one that really p ss ed me off the most was; ‘s t happens’.

Yes s t does happen. we got s tt ed on big time but when your talking about my Son, please don’t mention the word s t in the same sentence as his name. You may not have heard him cry, he didn’t breathe the same air as you, nor open his eyes and see the same blue sky as you but he was still a human being. He was a pure innocent baby boy.

Of course I didn’t say that but now, sitting here typing away I wish I had. It’s now really fre aking bothering me.

I know that women especially don’t know what to say when faced with people like us but please if you don’t know what to say, say f k all and just give us a hug and a sorry instead.

It would be a lot more appreciated then fobbing us off with the first cliché that enters your head. We are worth more then a cliché!

Yes we are hurting like hell inside and yes we appear to be ok on the outside, but don’t presume for one moment that that means we are not crumbling away inside.

Angel Mummy’s wear our masks extremely well and rarely remove them in public.

Don’t presume that just because we appear to be listening to you rambling on about this and that and how bad your day has been, that we are not off in our own thoughts about what should have been and what bad days are really like.

Don’t take us at face value either. I’m not asking that your world should stop just because ours has, I’m asking that when you sit there and ask us ‘how are you?’, please listen to our answer before jumping onto the next topic of conversation. I mean REALLY listen to our answer, because if you listen hard enough, you will hear our truth.

Rant over. Mind a little clearer. Thank you for taking note of said above.

Finding Out a Friend is Pregnant

I would have been 27 weeks today. Jesus. I know I need to stop doing this every Wednesday but Wednesdays still have meaning to me, as do; Thursday’s = the day he died, Friday’s = the day he was ‘born’, Tuesday’s = the day he was buried. Wednesday’s were our Milestone day. Wednesday was both scan days and the day I was taken into hospital and the day we were told our Son would die. Wednesday’s are a big deal to me.

I wonder how long it will take before I stop counting these days … after his due date … after his 1st Angel Birthday … when he was suppose to start school … his 18th? Maybe I’ll never stop counting and the last time I count will be the day that I die. That day where he is there to greet me; the day I get to hold him again and the day were I finally get to see what colour his eyes are.

I had that random thought yesterday while in the kitchen cooking dinner. It is obvious he took after my OH as he had his lips, nose, legs and black eyebrows which would mean I’m guessing, that he would of had black hair too; just like his Daddy. The only suggestion that I am his Mummy was his chin. I wonder if he had my Green eyes or if he really was his Dad’s spitting image and had his Dark Brown eyes. It’s something I will never know.

This week has been an emotional week, one of the hardest in fact since the two weeks post Bobby’s death.

Sunday night I found out that one of my old friends is pregnant which I won’t lie it upset me. We have already had this conversation so nothing I am typing is any news to her and this is not in anyway a rant at her as she knows I’m not upset with her personally, obviously.

I already have two friends who are currently pregnant and who were pregnant before I was, so I guess I am used to them being pregnant; although I’m not looking forward to their births.

This friend is the first to fall pregnant since Bobby’s death so I suppose it would be hard. Not through any fault of her own at all it reminded me of when I first found out I was pregnant and it brought back the excitement of everything being new. The first MW appt. the sickness, the scary aches etc etc. It just brought home to me the fact that I am not longer pregnant. It’s a sh * tty feeling to have when it finally hits you.

I also found out that my temporary job; which I was hoping would become permanent, had already been advertised before I got here so despite that fact that I may be here for three months say, I will still need to train the new person. I just need, no I WANT a job!

In the twelve years of working, I have never had so much trouble finding a permanent job. It’s been nearly two years now that I’ve been temping. At first it was fun but now it’s tiring me out. I’m tired of the worry about where money is coming from and if the bills are going to get paid each month. I admit this was a huge worry while pregnant with Bobby but TBH I got to the point where I didn’t care anymore. I was happy to sign on, I was happy to be pregnant, but now that I’m no longer pregnant, I need some sort of focus to take me away from feeling sorry for myself. I guess I’m tired of life giving me hope only for it to take it all back and shout ‘yeah right, think again’.

I went to the gym yesterday after work and I plan to go every Tuesday and Thursday. I’ve been feeling rather self conscious recently, namely because I’ve put on over a stone from the pregnancy and secondly because we do not seem to be DTD. I don’t know if it’s because I’m desperate to do it in order to fall pregnant and that’s why the lack of it is bothering me but I’ve been worrying that it’s because my OH no longer fancies me. I’ve been asking him every day and he always says ‘of course I do’, but it doesn’t help the way I feel. Another reason for the sudden interest in the gym is to get my body in shape for when I ‘do’ fall pregnant again.

I am determined that when I do fall pregnant, my body will have no excuse to kill my baby again. At least I now know what to look for and what I can and can’t get away.

I just hope that all the things I have always wanted in my life finally come together and we get the break that we so rightly deserve and which we have been waiting years to arrive.

Loves Surprises

I received a letter from the hospital yesterday confirming an appointment at the end of August to see a Consultant Obstetrician to ‘discuss your recent pregnancy loss’.

It says in the letter that we will get the results back from the bloods which were taken after Bobby’s birth and the results from the placenta, as well as having the opportunity to discuss any future pregnancies and the care I may need when that time comes. There will also be a Counsellor present.

Whilst reading the letter out to my OH I asked him if he wanted to come. He said no and went on to explain that he doesn’t want to go because the Councillor will be there and it will be like dragging it all back up again and he thinks time will be enough for him.

He then went on to say, ‘plus you don’t need to see her either do you’, to which I replied, ‘well…’ He asked me what I meant and I told him that maybe it would be good to talk to someone about it and I confessed how I cry myself to sleep every night.

It seems silly but that was such a big thing to confess to him not only the crying part but also the fact that I was considering ‘help’. Even though I will willingly confess my inner most deepest feelings to the world via the Internet, I can not talk about my emotions with my friends or family. I even have trouble telling my parents that I love them; I’m not sure why. I was loved so much as a kid and although I’m a naturally very emotional person I can not express myself in that way to those nearest to me.

What my OH said next surprised me in a nice way.

He said ‘I sometimes cry too’. This is a very big thing to hear. He never ever, ever talks about his emotions either unless something slips out during an argument. He went on to say that he has ‘silly moments’ when he’s by himself and he thinks about things.

It just goes to show that despite being together for all this time and thinking we knew each other inside out, we are actually still able to surprise each other.

That’s nice and in a funny but sad way, it’s our Angel Bobby who’s made us realise that and it is he who has brought us together that little bit closer.