Memories

I was remembering tonight the days after I first found out my waters had broken around 17 weeks.  I was admitted to hospital and told that there was a 90% chance that I would go into labour within 48 hours.  As it happened, I didn't, Paige held on for another 11 weeks to my amazement.  I remember the first night I kept thinking over Psalm 23 again and again because I was so terrified.  The day after the bereavement midwife came to see me before I was discharged.  She told me what to do if the baby came at home which was terrifying.  She advised Paddy and I to go and buy a blanket to put the baby in when it was born, which we did, and we also bought a tiny elephant teddy for her.  I also bought a card with Psalm 23 written on it.  I always felt that the words were for Paige as much as they were for me.

My darling Paige,
The Lord is your shepherd
You have everything you need
He lets you lie down in green meadows
He has led you beside peaceful streams
He is renewing your strength
He guided you along right paths
Bringing honour to his name.

Even when you walked
through the valley of the shadow of death
You were not afraid
For He was close beside you
His rod and his staff
Brought you protection and comfort.

He prepared a feast for you
In the presence of your enemies
He welcomed you as a guest
And annointed your head with oil
Your cup is overflowing with blessings
His goodness and unfailing love
Will pursue you all the days of your life
And you will live in the house of the Lord forever.

These memories are very special to me, even thought they are sad, because they are the things that happened while Paige was on this earth.  I feel extremely blessed that Paige did not come at that time because I feel it gave me more time with her and when she was born, I had a chance to give her a cuddle, as did her grandparents and we have lots of photos and memories of that time.

Ways of Grieving

Sorry, very cheesy title.  Paddy and I saw the psychologist at the Royal a couple of weeks ago.  She asked what we would like to talk about and my main areas of turmoil were the circumstances of the day leading up to Paige's death and also our plans for the future.  She seemed to feel that I was jumping too much ahead of myself and said I should be using this time to concentrate on grieving for Paige.  She explained it with a picture of a bridge and said that I want to get to the future but I can't get there without passing over the bridge (signifying the grieving process).  A book I read recently (can't find it now to quote it properly!) had the picture of a person chasing the setting sun and said that it is better to plunge yourself into darkness and catch the sun when it is rising.  I actually find this really hard.  In recent years I suffered a bout of depression and had cognitive behaviour therapy and I learnt a lot about making myself feel better and solving problems, etc so it is really hard to choose to not make yourself feel better and to allow yourself to be consumed by sadness.  The fact of the matter is though, I think with grief you don't actually have any choice!  You can try to run from it but it always catches you one way or another.  After this appointment I decided to try and take her advice and allow myself to express my feelings about the care I received on the day Paige was born both to my husband, my GP and the bereavement midwife at our local hospital (not the Royal).  At first I felt like I was completely losing control and that I could not possibly ever come to terms with the fact that had my treatment been different, Paige might have lived.  Actually though having ranted about it as much as I want I haven't thought about it as much this week so I guess maybe the theory is right.  I noticed on one of the bereavement sites a mum saying she went to a befrienders group and felt awful the next day and someone replied saying that it was like that for them but then they felt much better. 

I happened to mention to my GP how the psychologist had said about me jumping ahead of myself and he looked kind of confused and said that everyone has their own way of grieving which I thought was very sensible.  So on the one hand, I think it's important to be in the moment about my grief for Paige, I think that thinking forward is very much part of the recovery and I'm not going to feel guilty about that.

Where there is life there is hope

Forgive me, I am a complete beginner at blogging so I hope you are not asleep before you get to the end of this!  I decided to write this blog really to help myself grieve for my beautiful daughter Paige who was stillborn on 2nd October although I hope it is of comfort to anyone else going through the same thing.  The phrase above, where there is life there is hope, was give to me many, many times while I was pregnant with Paige.  My membranes ruptured at 17 weeks and she held on till 28 weeks and I had so much hope toward the end.  In fact, I would not allow myself to conceive of my baby dying.  Unfortunately I had to live my worst nightmare and still am.  My question since has been, if she is no longer alive, where is my hope?  What am I supposed to hope for now or put my hope in?  Will I definately have another baby?  I don't know.  Can I do anything to bring my child back.  Definately not.  I prayed and prayed when I was pregnant that my baby would survive; every day without fail.  I contacted countless people and had them pray too.  To be honest I don't really know what I was trying to achieve, as if I could somehow twist God's arm.  So when Paige died I was very angry and felt really let down by God but as the weeks have gone on this has subsided a little.  I'm starting to realise that God is the only thing I can completely put my hope in; that Paige has not ceased to exist but is being looked after by him in heaven, that he is looking after us as a family, that he has good things for us and that maybe, just maybe one day when I get up there I will be able to look back and understand why.  Don't get me wrong.  It sounds as if I have this all figured out.  I don't.  I am living minute to minute and find that all of my waking and quite a lot of my sleeping hours are spent in sadness.  I really hope things get easier soon.