The Light And The Shade After Grief

*a heads up this post talks about feticide, please be kind to yourself and perhaps not read on if you’re not in the right space.

I’ve said it many times, life after loss, grief, requires a lot of effort in understanding how to hold the light and the shade at the same time. The good and the bad, the joy and the pain, the ugliness and the beauty.

We’re 9 weeks postpartum. Our daughter, Rani, is an absolute joy. She’s so precious, I am that besotted mother, I stare at her, I dote over her, I look at photos of her after I put her to bed, I rarely get frustrated with her (yet), I’ve even become accustomed to the 2 hourly feeding overnight. Is it because I’m embracing it after loss? Is it because she’s a girl and there’s something about girls that seems more fragile? Is it because I’ve got a 7 year old and I know that nothing is forever, each stage won’t really last that long and before I knew it, Claude was off to school, arguing with me about where money comes from and what Pokémon has more power and damage.

The way I look at her though, the way I stroke her face and cuddle her, the utter delight I have for her is punctuated by feelings of guilt, as though the feelings of happiness somehow betray my darling Herbert. I say in my head as though I’m sending him a message – this doesn’t make me wish you weren’t here any less, if anything, it makes me want him here more. We were firm in our decision to only have two children, I’d even encouraged James to organise getting the snip prior to things going with Herb.

The 6 week shots rolled around, I told James I’d be fine without him if he was too busy to come. Believe it or not I’ve never used an online calendar until the last few weeks, I’m old school and love a handwritten paper diary, I’ve always felt it sticks in my head better. Well, throw in another human to life, board meetings and work bits for me, James’ many work appointments and health appointments, Claude’s I-have-a-tiger-mum-equals-extra-curricular schedule and sleep deprived induced memory loss meant I had to meet James’ desire to have a shared online calendar. It has surprisingly (to me) worked very well, and super handy when I’m stuck under a baby sleeping or breast feeding and I can check things at my fingertips instead of going to my diary. So, knowing James had seen it in the schedule, I proclaimed if he was busy at work he didn’t need to come along- I got this. He said he wanted to come along and that it’d be easier if we’re both there to hold her.

The first two shots were fine, I sat beside her, the nurse (who is an old friend of ours) was providing every bit of comfort she could, and James held Rani on his lap. The third shot was on the leg closest to me, I had full frontal view of her face. She of course screamed from the first two on the opposite leg to me and was still crying when the third shot went in her leg. I watched the needle go in, but something on the third shot when I looked at her face and saw the utter shock, horror and pain in her expression, the way she contorted her body; something snapped in my brain (oh, hai trauma 👋🏼). The nurse chatted to us and I responded back, I have no recollection of what I said, I just went in to autopilot. I paid the bill and I carried her in my arms, hugging her to the car. I stood at the car door, and just cuddled her, I didn’t want to take her out of my arms. Within a few seconds though, I got her in the car and we drove home.

We got inside and I laid her down in front of me and just started bawling my eyes out. Howling crying. James wasn’t quite sure what was going on and just came to comfort me. Once I could get the words out I explained how the shots reminded me of the feticide. The shock and utter pain she felt made me wonder if that was how Herb felt. It felt utterly cruel that a place of comfort and the most safest place any of us as humans could really be is the womb and he had to suffer a needle straight in to his chest, in to his heart to stop it beating. A feticide requires a needle – similar to an amniocentesis needle to go through the mother, in to the womb and straight in to the babies heart. Through a needle, within a needle, Fentanyl is delivered first and then potassium salts to stop the baby’s heart. We were well past the stage of being able to take a tablet, which depending on gestation age, some can.

This procedure we had is very complicated for the obstetrician to do this and requires another obstetrician and a nurse present to support if required. As he was 36+6 by then, he was huge, I felt him have the cardiac arrest. The flutter of his movements was horrific, the trauma of the whole procedure will never leave me, I don’t think any amount of therapy or time will ever heal what I had to go through. Once they had finished the procedure and checked with the doppler that his heart had stopped a scream came out of me I will never, ever forget. I didn’t even know a human could make the sound that exited my body in that moment.

After this moment I looked up at James and saw one perfect yellow ladybird in the middle of his top, which is why we use it in any posts to do with Herb. The old wives tale is that if a ladybird lands on you when you’re sick it’s meant to take the sickness away, we felt it was a sign from Herb to say thank you for not allowing him to continue to be sick anymore than he has to. I have a tattoo of a ladybird now on my arm. The fact he was delivered pain relief first doesn’t provide me with a huge amount of comfort, it’s like when you have to have a local or general anaesthetic – there’s still the initial needle. And I feel awful Herb had to experience that.

There’s such a dark cloud over termination for medical reasons. It is still so taboo. And a feticide – I’d never heard the word until we asked what were the options for our son. It’s such an awful word, it sounds like homicide. The word itself adds to the taboo nature of it, I’m sure there are plenty of people who would say it is murder, those with certain beliefs, religious beliefs, values etc. I respect we can all have a difference of opinions, but until it’s your baby, your family impacted, your own flesh and blood no one can ever judge a person for making a decision for their family. If we talk about it more and realise how common it actually is and the process of it, it may becomes less stigmatized and hopefully one tiny fraction less scary for those who have to experience it.

After her shots, I wore Rani for the rest of the day in a baby wrap, I wanted to hold her as close as I could to me.  

Next up was the postpartum check with my obstetrician. I, again, didn’t think I’d be activated at all. Didn’t cross my mind, I didn’t co-ordinate for James to come with me. Just rolled in and had it hit me like a wave. I had flashbacks for when I went for my check-up after Herb. I did the same naïve thing and went alone, thinking I’d be fine, but I had my first panic attack since the birth and almost ran out of the clinic. My obstetrician was wonderful and we had the appointment outside in the sun. The whole being back there, empty handed hit me like a tonne of bricks. This time, going in with her made me feel so happy and joyful, yet guilty and sad I never got to go back with Herb. That I’m here with her, because he isn’t here. I also, for the first time in a long time, thought about the moment our obstetrician found a problem for the first time. Claude was with us, it was school holidays, I was so excited to meet him (we were so close to the birth),to show Claude his brother’s amazing hair that we saw on the last scan billowing in the fluid, I remembered being asked the question “had I been unwell lately”, and no I hadn’t I was unfortunately a healthy host so I didn’t get any symptoms of having toxoplasmosis. And the penny only really dropping when she said we’d have to go to Hobart immediately to see the specialist was the moment I realised things were really bad.

I had a lovely appointment though with my obstetrician, and was quite sad to say ‘goodbye’, this is definitely our last pregnancy. I’m so grateful for her care, she saw us through a smooth first pregnancy, a smooth and then horrific second and an anxious, heightened emotions third.

And as things usually come in three’s don’t they say, I went to my first postnatal Pilates class. I was amazed at the results after Claude so always planned to do a course after pregnancy. I rolled in, the only one without my baby, which I reflect could have enhanced my emotions, with about 7 other mums who all brought their babies. James has a super flexible schedule and came to take Rani for the hour so I could fully focus. Top husband points to James. But it washed over me a couple of minutes in that after Herb I did a beginners Pilates class so I could avoid the Mums and Bubs, I stupidly, one day though, booked a class after the Mums and Bubs class without realising and arrived to them all walking out with their babies. Fuck. That. Hurt. I should have been with them, I should be carting my baby around in a capsule, sleep deprived from feeding not sleep deprived from grief. I had completely forgotten I did this until now. So I just bottled up my emotions, did the class and just focused on my movements and breathing, and when we finished I straight away called James in tears about how sad I felt, how triggered I was and how I’ve got this unrealistic expectation that I’ve ticked all the boxes of triggering things (I hate the word triggered, I prefer activated, but sometimes I feel triggered is the correct description) through the pregnancy because that was so damn hard, and now when things come to smack me around the head, I’m so unprepared they knock me for six.

So to the other loss mums who may or may not experience a pregnancy after loss and go on to parent another child – don’t be as naïve as me. Although, it is impossible to be prepared for everything and expect we’ll be all over everything, I wish I’d perhaps taken a very brief moment or two before all these things to just sit and ponder how they’d make me feel.

As always, thanks for your time reading. Sending my love to those on the journey of trauma, loss, grief, TTC and all the things that we fight on with in life.