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Five years…

Well it’s been a while…and in some respects much has changed since my last blog (leaving IBM after 13 years!) and in other ways things are the same. Today makes five years since Isabella was born sleeping, and the pain is still very much in my heart and head. Thursday would have also been Max’s fifth birthday if he hadn’t been born sleeping in April 2018.

This September has been particularly hard, because if either of them had lived, they would have been starting school. I’ve sat at my desk, which is by the school street window, and sobbed as I’ve seen the little reception children walked past, thinking that my sleeping babies should be with them. It’s so hard to explain, as that will be Isaac next year, and I am so excited for that stage of his life. But the pain doesn’t go and the thoughts of what might have been are still there.

As I said, I moved jobs and went to work for an ex IBMer at a company called Anaplan. This particular person did know what I’ve been through, and knows that there are still times when I struggle, especially with certain triggers (even people with the same names as my two sleeping babies still feels like a stab in the heart when I hear them). She has been very supportive and given me the space I need when I’ve needed it. When I joined I did think about not being open about it and starting afresh, as I was adding new colleagues on LinkedIn, I was thinking maybe I won’t do any posts about baby loss and not share my sponsorship links or memories of the Rebecca Room etc, but then I thought why shy away from it. It will always been part of me, part of the fabric that is my life history, and still affects my life. I am not ashamed of my continued grief and it’s never going away, so I am just going to roll with it. A friend recently shared this on her Facebook, and I think it’s so true. In general I am learning to deal with reminders, and triggers etc, by just having cry, taking some deep breathes then looking at my children (or pictures of them) and realising that I am amazingly lucky to have them and that they are more than enough for me! But…the grief is still there.

Someone recently described to me the word their use for when talking about the date a baby is born sleeping, and they call it their angle day, which I think is lovely. As with Isabella, she died and was born on the same day, so I’ve never really felt I could call it her birthday, with Max he died in my tummy one night and was born the following morning. Even if you don’t believe in heaven, I still think angel day just brings a calmer and more peaceful image. I went to see them both today with this in my head, and it definitely made it easier.

As some of you know with September being a hideous month for me with these two dates, I decided to do a swim for SANDS. For those that don’t know the Stillbirth and Neo-natal Death Society provided the room that Max was born in and support in dealing with my grief after both losses. The challenge was meant to be swim five kilometres during September, but I decided to push myself to eight. If anyone could spare a few pennies for this awesome charity in Isabella’s and Max’s memory I would really appreciate it.

https://www.justgiving.com/page/becksbigswim?utm_term=MnyqMyEmE&fbclid=IwAR2o5DRpu4E0rJn2Zk4R5ufepBKqSx0DelxlmqFzz2lgVw8H3oJg8gD86gM_aem_Ablwet5LmWTehwahZZVPd2dcH475bXuK3EFAnQe61H1czRabhGZTJz_cy8KBkG8rxhI

That’s me for now, it might be a long time or a short time before I post again who knows!

Cardio and cake…battling the Becky bulge!

So it’s been a longggggggg since my last blog, and I really want to get it started up again this year. It will NOT be about baby loss, I need to leave that behind, even though it’s still with me a lot of the time. My first one of 2022, therefore, is going to be about working towards a healthy body.

As some of you know, I have been on a health kick for the last nine months – I am deliberately not using the word “diet”, as it’s so much more than that. I was inspired to start by my amazing sister Sarah King. She absolutely smashed weight loss in 2021 and seeing how well she was doing, I decided enough was enough and in May started my own journey. Since getting pregnant with Dylan (who I can’t believe is soon to be six!), I had put on FOUR stone. A lot of that was pregnancy weight I never lost, weight added through emotionally eating after grief, and lockdown pile on! I knew I could do it, as in 2013 I lost 4.5 stone, going from a size 20 to a size 12/14 – for a giggle here is an article for that Match.Com paid for when they found out Matt and I were now married (having met on there in 2010), but the article was more written as a weight loss story. Some of the comments are hilarious, but I got a heap of Amazon vouchers from Match for it so was worth it!

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2749416/amp/I-fell-love-ballooned-size-20-Woman-piled-weight-meeting-dream-man-online-sheds-FOUR-STONE-time-wedding-day.html

I started using an app for tracking calories, called Lose It, that Sarah recommended. It’s really simple to track what you eat during the day, set yourself a calorie limit and it links to Apple Watch – so the more exercise I did the more calories I was allowed during the day. I did have to keep reminding myself that the calorie amount was a LIMIT NOT A TARGET! So in the beginning, I tried to keep well below it. In theory, the more weight you lose the app would lower the calorie amount you are allocated per day, however, I haven’t changed mine, just prefer to keep to a certain amount of food and gradually try to up the intensity of my exercise. If I used the app’s suggestion I just know I would have ended up miserable, as still really like and NEED the occasional treats.

I have never been a big drinker so it wasn’t like I would lose a lot of weight by cutting out alcohol. My problem was anything beginning with C – chocolate, cake, crisps, crumpets, and worst of all cheese! So had to swap things out, now having cereal bars as snacks, baked crisps that were lower in calories for a treat, cereal every morning instead of thick white delicious toast, and low-fat cheese – and a LOT less of it and less often too! Don’t get me wrong you will still see me munching on cheese, chips, cake, and chocolate, but I reward myself with those if I have seen a loss at the scales OR if I have eaten a low-calorie lunch and exercised that day.

It wasn’t all about calorie intake though. I needed to improve my fitness, Dylan is a VERY active child and I felt like I was really struggling to keep up with him (I can’t still now as he can run 2K in just over 10.5 minutes!). I had always trained with Jane Booth, and we spoke about my goals and she came up with a weekly plan for me to do in the gym, which as my fitness levels rose, got more intense – no slacking with Jane!! Jane is fantastic, as she appreciates sometimes when I was super tired or had period pain that meant I wasn’t up for certain things, but at the same time always pushed me to be fitter and stronger. As well as these sessions Jane convinced me to sign up for a walk climbing fitness class at the sports center – think 60 seconds climbing a wall the 60 seconds of squats, etc – it’s awesome and I really hope after reading this blog someone signs up to the next term!!

My first target was losing 2 stone by a wedding we were attending in October, which actually I worked really hard for and managed to lose 2.5, so then changed target to 3.5 by end of the year – which again I achieved. Then ultimate was four stone, which I hit this morning! Actually, it was 56.5lbs/25.8KG in 9 months. There’s an old saying about pregnancy “nine months to bake, nine months to shake”… technically I did it in 9 months, there was just a five-ish-year gap before I started trying!!

Here are my before and after shots! (thanks to Jane again for the photoshoot in the gym today!)

I am super super pleased that the hard work has paid off. I am no way near as toned as I was for the wedding, that will take more time, but I am now at a weight I feel I can maintain through exercising well, making smart food choices BUT (at this is the most important part) – I can still have a takeaway or meal out with friends and not feel guilty about it!

That’s it for now, I hope this blog wasn’t preachy or came across as smug in any way. I often share posts about how proud I am of my children, but just this once, I wanted to share how proud I am of myself 🙂

I hope some of you will join me climbing or bouncing soon!!

Xoxo

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Three years on…and still no easier

So it’s been six months since my last blog, and three years ago today since I lost Max. I really wish I was writing this blog to say “I am fixed!”. I wish I could say that I haven’t spent the last two weeks dreading this day, that I don’t shudder every time I hear the name Max, that I don’t think about how I should have a two and a half year old, that I don’t look at the age gap between Dylan and Isaac and wishing it was smaller, and that I no longer dread my birthday – knowing that the day after is the anniversary of Max’s death. Sadly, if I did say any of those things I would be lying. I just want to know when this will get easier, if anyone else has been through this, as the years pass, does the anniversary sometimes slip pass without you even thinking about it???

So it’s been six months since my last blog, and three years ago today since I lost Max. I really wish I was writing this blog to say I am fixed! I wish I could say that I haven’t spent the last two weeks dreading this day, that I don’t shudder every time I hear the name Max, that I don’t think about how I should have a two and a half year old, that I don’t look at the age gap between Dylan and Isaac and wishing it was smaller, and that I no longer dread my birthday – knowing that the day after is the anniversary of Max’s death, I don’t look at the forget-me-nots that appear at this time of year and fight back the tears. Sadly, if I did say any of those things I would be lying. I just want to know when this will get easier, if anyone else has been through this, as the years pass, does the anniversary sometimes slip pass without you even thinking about it?

Recently I decided to go through my phone and delete some of the 20,000 plus photos on there. They start in Summer 2015, pre kids, fun girls holidays, nights out, work trips etc – all of which seem a lifetime ago now. Then move to pregnancy photos of me with Dylan in my tummy from Autumn 2016, then hundreds of photos of Dylan’s first year in 2017, all of which were lovely to look through and remember so many happy times.

Then 2018 comes, the year I was dreading looking through. All start off ok, a picture from my birthday reminds me that I spent five nights in hospital bleeding, and that I begged the hospital staff to let me go home for the night so I could go to Pizza Express with Matt and Dylan (as I was due to be back in two days later for a scan). Happy and smiling at the camera, probably thinking I had been bleeding for a week and nothing happened, so surely I was ok, thinking hospital wouldn’t have let me go if it was that bad. Now, having read hospital notes, I know it was classed as a “threatened miscarriage”, and although the hospital didn’t say it, they may well have thought I was going home to lose the baby.

Then suddenly BAM a photo of the Forget Me Not baby loss suite at the Royal Surrey Coutny Hospital, where I gave birth to Max on the 16th April. I am not sure why I took the photo, or why I kept it, but just wanted to always be able to picture the room in which I held him in the little woolen woven basket.

I look through the photos of the next two weeks, and now I know I went back to normal lift too soon. We wanted to keep things normal for Dylan – had family days out (we took him to the Zoo, the beach etc), went back to work, visited friends etc. I know look at those photos knowing that the smile in them was fake, I wasn’t healed mentally or emotionally, even if physically the bleeding had stopped. I kept going through the photos of that time, I guess in some ways a self inflicted torture. I certainly shouldn’t have done this so close to the anniversary, but in some ways I wanted to make myself certain that we never let it effect Dylan. I’ve decided to give myself a break from doing it though for the next few weeks, as I know all too soon I will hit the photos from around September 2018, and know that’s when my heart broke for the second time with the loss of Isabella. I feel like there are photos of me pre loss, and post loss, I feel like something changed within me forever, having that level of pain and hurt.

I don’t know if the years passing will make it easier, all I know is that every April 16th, the date Max was born, I will walk to where Max’s ashes are scattered and tell him how loved he would have been, and that he is always in my heart.

In other brighter news, I had a smear test two weeks ago, and got the results this morning, all clear! Although I didn’t think there would be any problems, I always remember my dear friends Riggy’s battle with cervical cancer and know that cancer doesn’t care who it picks – it can get you any time, so you should always be prepared. Riggy was, and she kicked cancers arse!

I hope you are all surviving lockdown, that you are making happy memories with your families, and looking forward to a summer of meeting friends without fear, and possibly being able to hug your parents for the first time in over a year.

I promise more positive blog next time 🙂

Take care everyone.

P.S – I am not saying I am not happy now, I know how truly blessed I am, not only to have my rainbow baby, but to even be able to have had Dylan as well – as so so many women struggle to conceive. Just some days are easier than others.

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Imprints….

So another year has passed (and crazily six months since the last time I posted on this blog) and I will be lighting another candle tonight to remember the two lovely little babies that aren’t part of our family. The years gone really quickly this time – surprising considering what a “unprecedented” one 2020 has been. Maybe the ten weeks of no nursery for Dylan and Matt being furloughed – allowing us some family time that we never imagined we would have – made it rush by. Although I have to admit those weeks had tough moments, and even with Dylan at school now my maternity leave feels far from “normal”.

I can’t believe that it’s been two years since we lost Isabella. I keep wondering whether I will ever “forget”. How many years it will be before I don’t feel sad on the 25th September (the day she was born) or the 27th September when Max was due. Will I always hate the last week of September? Or in a few years will those dates just pass by without me feeling heartbroken? Will I always feel a stab of pain when I meet another child named Max or Isabella? I think it’s just this time of year that, sadly all my losses are so close to Baby Loss Awareness Week and so there’s lots of stuff on social media, it just brings it all up.

On the day that was the anniversary of Isabella’s death Matthew and I went up to the woods where we spread her ashes. It’s odd as it makes me so sad to go there, but there’s also part of it that’s comforting – almost like we can be close to her, like she’s in the wind and trees around us when we are there.

I am hoping that once I’m back at work, and I know that I won’t be having another maternity leave that my mindset will change and that maybe the losses will be easier to process and less consuming. I think when they went back to work in 2018 after losing Max I was constantly thinking I wonder are we going to get pregnant again, when should we start trying, will I face problems etc and naively thinking it would not happen again. And then I lost Isabella and I spent my time again thinking are we ever going to get pregnant again – it’s too much of a risk etc. Then we lost her and I took ten weeks off work. So it basically felt like 2018 was so baby and loss focus, it’s almost like I lost a year of my life of thinking about anything else. This realisation makes me sad, as I should have been focusing on Dylan, but then I look at him and realise he’s not been effect, he’s just awesome and loves life.

Then throughout 2019 I kept thinking you’re gonna lose this baby too – luckily that didn’t happen. So basically the point of going over this is that when I go back to work in January 2021 I won’t have any of that. Because we are definitely done we wouldn’t put ourselves through it again, and are we’re very, very blessed to have our two little miracle boys. So I think work will feel different. I think I’ll feel like I can focus on my career again, as well as obviously focusing on my family, but luckily IBM has very flexible working so you can focus on career and family at the same time. And I am I’m hoping that that change will make a difference in how I process things.

I still think about Isaac’s birth all the time. And again, I’m hoping, as time passes, that I’ve stopped thinking about it in such negative ways. But the moment, even nearly eleven months on I still feel that I missed out on his birth experience. I feel just heartbroken that neither of us were there when he was actually born. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling that way? Having four births and no positive I’ve birth experiences, I doubt I will.

On to more positive things… I am very, very proud to have been part of a team of amazing women who have raised money for SANDS again this year. Sadly we had to cancel the ball due to coronavirus, but luckily we have some wonderful family and friends who helped raise money by buying tickets for a virtual raffle. We raised a whopping total of £1440, which I’m astonished at because it’s very similar amount to the raffle from last year – but last year we sold a lot of tickets on the night. I want to say a big shout out now to all the very lovely people and businesses that gave raffle prizes. Because without them none of it would have been possible. It’s been heart warming that despite many of the businesses having a tough year they are still being so generous. And of course thank you to all you wonderful people for buying tickets!!

Dylan has started school and is extremely happy there. He’s made some new friends and has some fantastic friends from nursery with him, so I’m really glad that that has gone so smoothly. But even with that, I sit here whilst writing this blog and think about the what ifs. If Max or Isabella had survived I wouldn’t be at home now on maternity leave and Dylan would be in after school club three day whilst I worked (which he will have to be in January, apart from Tuesdays with Granny and Friday afternoons with me). But as it turned out, I’ve been here the first term that Dylan has been at school, and actually been really nice because it felt like he has been able to ease in, and I get extra time with him. So maybe every cloud does have a silver lining, however small the lining and however giant the cloud was!

So I really on this Wave of Light night, it was just a quick blog to say where I’m at, but also to send many virtual hugs to those that are remembering babies tonight and lighting their candles. And even if you haven’t had the misfortune of losing a baby, I know there are many other struggles that come with trying to conceive so thinking of you guys too – as I am sure this is horrendous too. If you haven’t experience loss, maybe you know someone that has, so perhaps light a candle for them.

Until next time, whenever that may be, take care of yourselves xxx

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I cry because…

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Wandering Wonderings and Rambling Rambles

I am using a new app to write this blog where you speak and it turns into text. Hopefully it’s going to work as I’m trying to keep up the blogging whilst looking after/failing to home school a four year old, constantly feeding a four month old, whilst being majorly sleep deprived, during the Corona Virus lockdown of spring 2020.

I’m currently just walking back from my daily “allowed exercise” through the Chawton Park woods and trying to get Isaac to sleep in the sling as he refuses to sleep in the cot and I’m not supposed to drive anywhere unless it’s essential. I would argue napping a baby during his four month sleep regression is essential, but not sure that would really make the cut. I just went to visit the place where we scattered Max and Isabella’s ashes. It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to get up here since Isaac was born. And in a weird way, I wanted to go and introduce Isaac to Max and Isabella – that sounds so strange when I say it out loud (remember I am walking and dictating this blog into my phone). I think though, unless you’ve been in a similar situation, you may not be able to understand it. Issac to me, is their brother. They are his big sister and big brother, I know you could say Isaac wouldn’t be here if Max had survived, or if Isabella had survived, which is factually correct. But as I’ve explained before, in my head I have given birth four times, I have four children, just that sadly two of them are not on this earth with me.

Anyway, parenting through Covid 19 was meant to be the theme of this blog. This was certainly not how I was expecting to be spending my maternity year. I was expecting to spend it drinking lattes and eating cake, having lunches with friends who were either on maternity leave or “stay at home mums”, who by the way I haven’t absolute new found extreme respect for. I don’t know how anybody does it looking after pre school children (and younger), full time at home. I’ve been doing it for two ish weeks, granted with a newborn as well, but other people do that too and smash it (I am talking about you Emma T). I’m shattered emotionally, physically and mentally. So, this is me, taking all my hats off to stay at home parents – I shouldn’t say just mums as there stay at home dads too. Anyway, back to maternity leave, I thought I would be in the gym with Isaac in crèche for an hour a few times a week, I’d be spending my Tuesdays volunteering at NCT Happy Days. My Wednesday’s would be doing an amazing baby group called Tots Play which is led by a friend called Georgie – we did the baby development course before this all started, and had just started doing the Discovery Tots classes. I was loving my maternity leave and feeling the most relaxed and settled I had been in two years.

See this is what’s so weird about life at the moment – a couple walking just moved paths so they could observe the two meter social distancing rule – we used to walk past people perhaps stop and chat, and now just keep walking past them, hide in a bush etc.

I’m worried about my parents, even talking about it now, as I walk makes me want to cry. I cry every time I see them – clarification when I see them I’m not going around to their house as that’s against the COVID rules. I mean from a distance or on video. I’ve not seen them properly for over three weeks, occasionally we get each other shopping and leave it on the doorstep, knock on the door, stand well back and say hello. I am finding absolutely heart wrenching – can’t handle it at all and now I’m crying in the woods, all on my own with only a tree to hug. I haven’t seen my sister either – and she is my best friend – I can’t handle not seeing her even if it was just in the nursery car park during school drop off, just talking through it now has made me realise how lucky I am to live close to my family, and see them so often. Now I’d never ever want it to change.

The reason I’m worried about my parents is my mum has asthma is 69, and dad, as many of you know, had a stroke many years ago, but is still not in hundred percent health. It doesn’t seem like this virus knows any bounds anyway – a 13 year old boy died who apparently had no underlying conditions, a five year old boy died at the weekend – he did have underlying conditions but ****, five years old, and taken by a virus, my heart absolutely breaks for his family.

We are trying to play by the rules as much as we possibly can. We haven’t seen anyone else other than the four of us as haven’t been anywhere. We take the exercise we are allowed daily from our house and we’ve been lucky and getting a few home grocery deliveries, where we need to stock up my sister or parents have had deliveries and we are all doing bits for each other – we antibacterial wipe things as soon as they come in the house etc.

Social Distancing in woods building a stick den

The only other person I’ve seen outside of my house was when I saw a nurse when Isaac had to have his four months jabs. It was just scary and super surreal – you go into the health centre and get asked to put on a mask and sanitise hands, there was someone manning the door and everywhere was eerily quiet. The nurse had a mask on too and was so lovely and calm – it was one of those things you can’t avoid though, I believe in immunisation so Isaac had to go. So as you can imagine being kept in the house with a cranky four month old post jabs isn’t easy (plus an even crankier four year old who wants to see his friends). Also said four month old is currently going through a sleep regression and something called the “fourth leap” – which is a mental developmental stage where they can be really fussy and clingy etc. The stress levels were certainly very high last week!

I shouldn’t moan because I know other people have it a lot harder than I do. Matt has now been furloughed as well. I’m trying to think of its blessing rather than worrying about the difference in money (as obviously I’m on heavily reduced pay because I’m on maternity leave). But it means he is now around how to help “school” Dylan and quite honestly, I was seriously starting to worry about my mental health – so it has come as relief. I was crying every single day, I felt like I was letting both boys down. I was getting angry at Dylan because I was too tired and massively overwhelmed by the fact that he may not be going to nursery and home schooling on my own for possibly 12 weeks – probably even longer. Also I felt that it was hampering my bonding time with Issac as well, because it felt like the only time I could give him was really just trying to feed him before Dylan would call for me to go and play with him, but at least Matt can help now. I am still worried about my mental health – I think everyone at the moment is focusing on physical health, understandably so, but the mental health of people is also drastically important. For people who are losing their businesses, people who have their jobs, people have lost relatives, that’s going to have a big impact for years and years and years to come on mental health too. It’s just the physical side of it seems to be the tip of the iceberg of what is going to happen because of this outbreak.

I worry for my friends who work on the NHS frontline, but I’m trying to keep in contact with them as much as I can. I feel incredibly sad for my pregnant friends, must be ultra worrying for them, especially if they’re not going to be able to introduce the new arrival to friends and family – that is something that’s a lovely part of welcoming a new baby, to the world.

I feel like it’s something that we’ll look back on in years come when we’re old and grey and say “I remember the outbreak of 2020”. When we would #clapforNHS every Thursday night, when we put rainbows in our windows, did family video calls, when we would listen to a 5pm political broadcast every night, when our prime minister was in the ICU with the virus (whether you like him or not, I think everyone wants to see him pull through, he does love his country in his own way).

I am really praying that I’ll be able to say that I didn’t lose anyone I loved to it. The one good thing is that my boys will not remember any of it, and I am grateful for the extra unexpected time we get to spend as a family before Dylan goes to school. I do worry about the fact that we’ve been three years getting Dylan into a structure – because he needs structure, he is highly active and can be highly emotional (like I am sure most four year old boys can be). And at the moment very attached to me- will not let me go anywhere in the house without following me around even though I just got stairs go to the loo, he says “I love you Mummy I want to come with you and want to be with you every single minute”. First it was cute but now I worry about how he’s going to adapt to going to school, I am really hoping nursery will reopen by August so he’ll get back into a little bit of a rhythm of things – back to a more formal educational setting, wearing a uniform, back to some lessons etc – if not, September is going to be incredibly tough. I think because all of this I’m going to try and stay off work until January unpaid, because he’ll need the support during his first term, but also because I want to be able to have some time after all of this with just me and Isaac, to try and repair a bit of the bond we were developing.

Anyway I am getting to the main road on my walk now so will stop rambling. I hope everyone is ok and will see you on the other side. And remember #stayhomesavelives.

Birth Notes, Books and Boobies

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So it’s been a while since my last blog! I wanted to wait until I had gone through my listening service appointment until I blogged again, but that was a couple of weeks ago and been taking the time to sort my thoughts out around it.

A listening appointment is with a senior midwife where you are able to go through your notes line by line and ask questions. I had it after Dylan’s birth and it really helped me process everything, so had high hopes – unfortunately I was disappointed – not due to anything the hospital did wrong, but my expectations were unrealistic. In short, I thought the notes would be really detailed as they were with Dylan, but in reality the “birth” started at 18.50 when I got to ward and finished at 19.35 when he was out. They didn’t have time to observe every tiny detail. Basically I was on machine at 7.00, 7.05 everything normal with readings, 7.12 machine started going crazy so they tried to get me in different position as heart beat was saying 70 – half what it should be. Luckily there was a Dr free on the ward at that very moment who immediately came and examined me and made the call to do an emergency c section (I shuddered to think what might have happened if for some reason it took a while for a Dr to come and make that decision). Then at 7.19 a “category one” bleep was called – the worst one there came be which makes the surgical team come running, as well as the special care baby unit notified – clearly they assumed that little man was going to come out with some problems to overcome. I was in theatre by 7.24 being prepared, and 7.29 “knife to skin recorded”.. by 7.35 he was out and cord cut etc.

As you can see everything was rapid. His heartbeat did go back up in theatre, which made me ask “what if they had just waited”… as even if I could have had an epidural and Matt be present I would have felt better about the birth, but quite rightly the midwife said that if they had waited, I could be sitting there asking why they waited if my baby had died. She also emphasised that once they call a category one it’s rarely changed, and that they really only do emergency c sections under general in the absolute worst circumstances. The notes also said he came out “pink”.. and had no problems. I lost 1.7 litres of blood, so that’s why it took a while to get me back to recovery etc. So I did get some answers, but there are still things I will never know, like why he stopped moving, was it the cord causing problems or something with my placenta, how close we had come to losing him, what position he was in etc. I just have to accept that somethings will always remain unanswered and I shouldn’t dwell on them as we do have our little miracle safely here. But it’s just hard when I still think about it every day, not having a proper birth, neither of us being there etc. I just wish one of my four births had been a positive birth experience.

I have also been reading the follow up to “This is Going to Hurt” by Adam Kay, called “‘Twas the nightshift before Christmas”… (both excellent reads) – I am probably not meant to put photos on here but included Amazon links so you can buy the books to read the rest, so in theory free publicity. There are some pages that really hit home.

The first one reinforces my point in my last blog about following Count the Kicks and listening to your body, Isaac wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t….and I am glad that the staff at The Royal Surrey know the importance of following “a mother’s hunch”.

The second section that made me cry was around baby loss, so people may think losing babies at 17 and 12.5 weeks isn’t as much as a big deal as my blogs make out, but I still gave birth to them both, I named them both and I had a funeral for both. Adam rights very movingly about a couple losing their IVF baby… not just a “six weeker”. I had “normal” scans with both loses and it’s so hard to realise things can literally change over night. It’s natural to want answers and explanations – but we never got any.

Trying to be more positive… I recently had a wonderful conversation with someone who had tragically lost a child at 28 weeks, and she told me how they used to mark the date every year, friends and family would send cards etc – but the couple asked them to stop. The reason being she said was that her son that was born after the loss got upset by it. She advised not focussing on children that you have lost, yes talk to them about it if they ask, but the youngest child might come to think that they wouldn’t have been born if the children you lost had survived. Which ultimately for us is true, but I would never want Isaac to grow up feeling that. I do think this was good advice, I’ve kept all the scan photos and memories of my pregnancies with Isabella and Max, but will only show both boys if they ask.

Finally what has also taken up a lot of my time and headspace is the struggles we have been having on our breastfeeding journey. We discovered Isaac had a tongue tie – after I saw a lovely and very supportive breastfeeding consultant called Emily Taylor at a clinic in Bordon at the Forest Health Center (runs every Friday) – as I was in agony when feeding off my right hand boob. She also thought that his jaw was quite tight, so suggested some cranial therapy. It was great to have confirmation I wasn’t going mad and there was a reason I was in pain, so very grateful to Emily.

I got the tongue tie cut privately, as I couldn’t handle waiting 13 days to been seen by NHS. It did ease the pain, but sadly only for a few days, and it seems now the tongue has reattached so I’m currently deciding whether it’s worthwhile cutting again.

What has DEFINITELY helped is the cranial therapy we have had with Kate Rosati. So far I’ve had three sessions, and have a fourth booked in soon. It’s fascinating what Kate can tell by looking at how Isaac feeds as well as physical features. For instance, his forehead in one area is quite flat, so she thinks he was born back to back. Also, his jaw is tight and his chin locked down – causing a little ridge on his chin – and she thinks this might be where the cord was wrapped round. He also swipes a lot at the right side of his face, so that might be were his face was squashed into my pelvic area. Kate is so calming and knowledgable on breast feeding as well, and seeing her has made the feeding 100x more comfortable and meant we are able to continue on our journey, when I really was ready to give up.

I’ve decided to keep this blog going sporadically, talking about being a mum of boys and parenting after loss, so I hope you will stay with me, thanks for all the love and support so far xx

P.S photo of Isaac just because he’s so damn cute!

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While you were sleeping…

Advanced warning, this blog is going to talk about my traumatic birth experience… if you can’t handle the following fact, then I suggest you don’t continue on…I was put to sleep under general aesthetic not knowing if I was going to wake up to my baby being dead or alive.

For those of you that are still with me, get comfy, maybe with some tea – it’s going to be a long one! The most important thing I want you to take away from this is how important it is to listen to your body, that and having faith in the glorious NHS.

On Saturday 30th November, at around 4pm, I realised I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt the baby move. We had gone into town for the Santa run, and I had a sugary hot chocolate, which would normally make him go crazy in my tummy, but nothing had happened. So when we got home I had a lie down.. nothing, then a bath.. nothing. Throughout my pregnancy I had be diligently counting kicks, following the advise from the wonderful Kicks Count charity – https://www.kickscount.org.uk, who emphasise how important it is to monitor movements, and be aware of any changes in your babies normal pattern. Ultimately knowing this helped save Isaac’s life.

I came downstairs and insisted to Matt that we go to the hospital immediately. Something just didn’t feel right. Mum came round within about ten minutes to look after Dylan and put him to bed (I am sure she teleports somehow), and we headed to the hospital.

If Matt was unkind, I am sure he would have told me he thought I was being neurotic/OCD about it, but he’s not unkind, he is supportive and understands that I lived every day of the pregnancy expecting to bleed and lose another child. We got up the ward and luckily were seen incredibly quickly. They took us into a side room and I immediately started crying – it was the same room in which they told use that Max was going to die, having lost all my waters. I thought it was a sign. The midwife was very sweet and offered to move us to another room, but I just wanted to “get on with it”. I was put on the heart rate monitor and immediately there it was, happily beating away at 140 beat per minute – or so we thought. The sobs of relief came, but were short lived.

The midwife left the room and within minutes the machine started going crazy, Matt went out into the corridor to find her, as thought maybe it had come unhooked etc. Another midwife came in – Shona – to readjust the pads, but it wasn’t working, his heartbeat was going below 100 (something termed Bradycardia) and I am pretty sure it flashed up lowest at 63 BPM, there was definitely an 80. Then suddenly there was also a Dr in the room, who did an internal check to see whether I was actually in labour or at least dilated, I was not. By this point I was in a lot of pain, I thought it was contractions, it felt like he was twisting in my tummy.

Next thing I knew they said we were going through to “delivery”. I naively thought this meant they were going to break my waters, but then the reality became clear as I was rushed down a corridor, with Matt practically running behind us, as alarms were blaring and people were appearing left, right and center. It was then I saw the door we were going through had a sign saying “theatre” – I was still confused at this point – they wouldn’t let Matt in, and I thought it was just because he needed to scrub before theatre and that I was having an epidural, all I remember is Matt calling “I love you Becky” before doors closed on him. They told me a little white lie and said he was getting changed when I begged for him to be let in.

By that point there were people everywhere, someone doing a cannula in each hand, someone putting towels across me, painting my tummy with weird dye, a catheter, oxygen mask, and being told to drink some horrible tasting liquid. I still didn’t really understand that I would be asleep for the birth of my baby. I was thinking, this is it, I am going to have yet another dead baby. Nature had played a cruel joke on us letting us get to over 37 weeks, and now I was going to lose my rainbow baby. The last thing I remember doing was screaming at poor Shona, “DON’T LET THIS BABY DIE!!!!!” over and over. I went to sleep not knowing whether he was alive or dead. Something that I will never ever get over. We were later told that Matt wasn’t allowed in the room because a) they don’t let husbands in as it takes up time to scrub etc and b) it’s thought to be too traumatic for the husband to see his wife being put to sleep and baby being born that way, but I still wish one of us had been there to see the little man being born.

Two hours later I woke up in a small dark room, where Matt had been all that time – Isaac having been given to him twenty minutes after we went into theatre (poor Matt – when I think about him being on his own in there not knowing what was happening with his wife or child makes my heart ache with sadness for him). Bless him, Matt had done skin to skin with Isaac, and called my mum to let her know the baby had arrived safely. Mum then had to stay the night in our bed and look after Dylan for the next few days – luckily he adores his Granny and Grandpa. It’s still hard to come to terms with thought that my mum and dad knew my baby was alive before I did.

Apparently when I came round the first thing I did was start shouting about the radio being too loud (there was no radio). When I opened eyes properly, there he was being held up to me in a little red hat and a towel. I looked at Matt and said “is he alive?” (the red hat in my head signified danger/end as Royal Surrey use a traffic light system for hats for their new borns). Then they handed me my miracle.

I felt like I was in a weird dream. The pain I was in then showed me I was definitely NOT in a dream!! Unlike an epidural, where the pain relief is still present for a few hours after c section, with a general, there was no such relief sadly – which is one of the reasons why they only do it as a LAST resort. They gave me a morphine drip, but for some STUPID reason, I didn’t want to use it, I think I just wanted to be as compos mentis as possible, to be in control of my mind, to absorb what had happened.

They were monitoring me every two hours, as I had lost over 1.7 litres of blood, and there was talk of a transfusion. But they were both surprised and happy that I seemed “really well” given the amount I had lost, and my blood pressure and iron etc were all fine. The staff were very sweet and got a large black beanbag for Matt to try and sleep on next to me – although his legs still hung off the end. There were times during the next few hours where I lay in the darkness and thought I was in the same recovery room, like after we lost Isabella and I’d had a D&C after loss, but then suddenly Isaac would make a noise in the hospital cot, and I would remember that this time my baby was alive.

Within a couple of hours I was able to get Isaac to breastfeed, which I was so happy about, but then bubble burst slightly when they told me yet another side effect of a general was that it delays your milk coming in. He was so little (6lbs and then dropped to 5lb 6oz over the next 48 hours), and I just instantly felt like I wanted to protect and nurture him. It was hard though not being able to pick him up myself, but every time I moved my tummy hurt and I still had a catheter in, as well as two cannulas.

At about 7.30am (12 hours after he was born), at my request we were moved to a private room – I just had spent so much time on wards at that hospital in the previous year that I just couldn’t bear the thought of being on one again. I wanted the three of us to have some privacy, I needed the quiet to process what had happened. One of the Drs came in and said two things that will always stay with me. One was that we were lucky the little man wasn’t in SCBU given the circumstances of his birth (turns out he had the cord wrapped round his neck), and secondly that we were “moments away from the worst case scenario”. My blood ran cold when she said this. So many what if’s – what if we had dinner first before leaving, what if we had stayed to put Dylan to bed, what if mum had taken longer to come round to the house, and what if he had kicked just once? I know if he had kicked just once I would have not insisted on going to the hospital and just gone to bed.

The first full day (Sunday) went in a blur, various checks and all was going well. Matt’s mum, dad and nan all came to visit us, and it was lovely for them to meet their latest grandson. Matt went home to catch up on some sleep and Isaac and I watched Netflix! (he would only sleep on me).

On Monday I was delighted that Wendy was able to take a break in her shift and visit us. It was so nice seeing her, she has been with me at every step of this journey. She is such an amazingly kind person, and I feel really really blessed to have her in my life now. She will always be Isaac’s “aunty Wendy”.

Then jaundice hit! The first six hours under the lamp in the afternoon went well, and it didn’t seem to bother him. During this time we had a visit from the lovely Jacqui Tingle, she was brilliant – Isaac decided at that moment to be sick everywhere! She helped me clean it all up and has such a calming presence.

Matt went home to pick Dylan up, as we really wanted to keep things as normal as possible for him. My parents came to visit, Mum armed with various gifts for Isaac and me, and it was lovely hearing what Dylan had been up to for the last couple of days. Unfortunately the same calmness under the light was not apparent for the second session of eight hours. He WOULD NOT settle. Poor like thing just wanted to feed or cuddle. There was an AMAZING transitional care nurse – called Sheena – who basically spent her entire shift with me trying various ways to settle him. At one point I was even just in my pants sitting in a chair with the blue light shining down on us whilst I fed Isaac – me covering my eyes with a sleep mask. At 4am I was at my wits end, but he was finally allowed out from under the light, the lovely Sheena took him for a couple of hours so I could get some much needed sleep.

On the Tuesday morning I saw a Dr and she said we could both go home. The relief was overwhelming. I just wanted to see Dylan, and let him meet his little brother.

I will be forever grateful to the midwifes, Drs and nurses at the RSCH. I can not fault the staff – they work so hard, such long hours, and never complain. I am sure I was a pain in the bum at various points, but they were always so kind. I am in NO DOUBT that it is due to their speed at getting Isaac out that saved his life. That at the work that Kicks Count do in making sure mums are aware of their babies movements.

As I said at the beginning, if any mums to be are reading this, LISTEN to your body, don’t worry about being neurotic or bothering people with questions etc, do what you have to do to keep your bump safe. If I hadn’t listened to my body, and trusted my instincts, Isaac would be another one of my babies to not take a breath, and another missing piece of the Owen family puzzle.

I would like to thank all my family and friends, especially my wonderful husband, my parents, my sister and my bestie Katy Pelling White – who have really be my rocks during the journey for number two over the last two years. They have dealt with all the lows, and I know they are delighted for me now we have finally got our “high”. I couldn’t have done it without them.

I will continue to blog, moving from our journey to complete our family, to the both the good times and the hard times of being a mum raising two boys, so I hope you will all stay with me 🙂

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A year older a year stronger… or so I thought

So it was this time a year ago I wrote by first blog on this site, timed with Baby Loss Awareness Week and the annual Wave of Light (https://muddledmummy.com/2018/10/07/i-feel-guilty-when-i-laugh/) . I had lost Isabella in very traumatic circumstances the month before on 25th September, having lost Max only five months previously on April 15th – and was very “broken” to say the least. I certainly couldn’t envisage a time that I would really enjoy life again, let alone contemplate making a new life.

So much has happened this year, both at work and at home, that it has flown by. It was unimaginable to me that a year on from lighting that first candle that we would be 31 weeks pregnant with a little boy (counting down only 7 weeks to go now before induction – the date has bow been booked!!). It was also unimaginable that Rebecca’s Room would have gone from an initial idea to actually being opened and in use (https://muddledmummy.com/2019/09/08/momentous-miraculous-moments-rebeccas-room-a-reality/). And I DEFINITELY didn’t realise that I would have the honour of being involved in the Secret Garden Charity Ball – all in aid of the Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Society (SANDS) who had funded the Forget-Me-Not suite in which I gave birth to Max.

I was first asked to join the committee late last year, by the wonderful Kat, and was introduced (via the wonders of Whatsapp) to the other lovely committee members – Lauren, Laura and Allison. It was very soon apparent how driven these ladies were for not only putting on an amazing event (which they had done twice already in 2017 and 2016), but also how much they cared about raising money for SANDS. I could only hope that I would be able to help out as much as I could.

It was daunting meeting them for the first time, as they had all known each other for a long time now, and I felt like a newbie at school walking into the pub the first time, but I shouldn’t have been nervous. They were all friendly and welcoming, with some sharing their stories of loss with me, that meant so much to be around other women that understood my pain. I had found a new tribe.

The months rolled by and I tried to help sourcing raffle prizes, securing two tables of lovely friends at the ball, and nearer the time selling as many raffle tickets as I could. They organised so many fantastic things, from light up SANDS letters to a three course dinner with DJs. The date of the ball, last Saturday night, came around very quickly and I was asked to give a speech on the night. I thought all would be fine, my speech covered why I joined the committee, how amazing I thought the ladies were, logistics for the night and what everyone’s money would be going to – listing out some of the ways SANDS helps bereaved parents.

When I practiced it at home, it was fine – different story on the night though! I didn’t even make it to the second paragraph before I felt the tears coming. As soon as I mentioned losing my two beautiful souls the emotions overtook me and I ended up crying on stage in front of over one hundred people. I could blame tiredness, my hormones, nerves – but ultimately, I just think it’s all still too raw for me to be ok. Despite the CBT I am still having, every day I miss Max and Isabella, every day I think what if, and every day I still expect to loss this baby. It just all took centre stage – quite literally – on Saturday night. The next day I was looking through some baby loss awareness week posts on Instagram, and one of the hashtags this year is #itsoknottobeok, also in line with mental health awareness week – and I think I need to keep this in mind. I know some people will find it odd still feeling this devastated, and think it shouldn’t matter as much know as have another little one on the way, but I think ultimately only people who have been through it will understand that a piece of your puzzle will always be missing. But that is ok. How many have a complete puzzle anyway, there are always things people wish for…

Here are a few pictures from the night – we raised so much money for SANDS – an UNBELIEVABLE £5,300 and I am really proud of all of us. Bring on 2020! I would also like to thank my amazing tribe who came to the event to support me, I hope you all know how much I love you.

Finally, please remember to light a candle at 7pm tonight, and remember all those beautiful souls taken too soon.

I got my table forget-me-not seeds to plant

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Momentous Miraculous Moments…Rebecca’s Room a Reality!

So we’ve actually done it… got to the supposedly magical 24 weeks (well actually will be 26 on Tuesday but it’s taken me a while to write this!)… when various sources state that your baby has a 50/50 chance of surviving if born at this gestation. It’s odd, as although if born this early the baby would be extremely premature and likely have a range of massive health problems, it was still an important milestone for us to hit. It is over double what we got to with Isabella, and seven weeks more than we got to with Max. I have extremely positive moments when I think about how far along we are now, but then extremely negative moments when I realised we still now have another twelve ish weeks to go before they will induce me at thirty eight weeks, and I still check for blood every single time I go to the toilet.

Anyway, back to the positive. Had a scan on Thursday and everything is looking normal at the moment! Saw my consultant and she’s happy with how things are going, agreement is to have another scan in four weeks and clinic appointment with her, but go and see my local midwives in a fortnights time to check blood pressure and urine. My consultant (Miss Hutt) is being so thorough that she has also booked in a gestational diabetes test for me in three weeks time, to “make sure we don’t have any nasty surprises”.

BUT the main reason for writing this blog, and it’s title, was the opening of the Rebecca Room this week! I honestly thought it would never happen, not because I didn’t have trust in the wonder woman that is Wendy Fuller, but just that it was so surreal that a room would be opened with my name at Royal Surrey County Hospital.

Mum and I went along on Thursday and met Wendy at Compton Ward reception then walked down to a side room, which had a big purple bow on it. In the vestibule area there is one Forget-Me-Not picture that Wendy and I chose, and another picture on the wall – which was actually the image we had on Max’s order of service back in May last year. Wendy had organised lots of lovely cake, and various people joined us in the room, some of the lovely EPU staff, Sisters who work on Compton ward, some of the great board members I went to speak to back in March. I was truly touched to see them taking time in their day to come, and it was clear they all really cared. The room is painted in two different tones of purple, much more calming than the bright yellow door that had been there before!

Wendy then showed me the amazing work her and the team had done on the new information box that that the have on the ward – most importantly it includes a printed version of a new pathway of care when pregnant ladies come onto the ward, it documents EVERY step that staff should take, with a checklist of items that are needed to ensure that during a traumatic time ladies are treated sensitively thorough out. It also includes an “in memory” book I gave them for bereaved parents to write in, as well as the same memory boxes that are used in the Forget-Me-Not suite on the maternity ward. Wendy told me that staff from the Compton ward are also now doing shifts on the EPU to help their interactions with maternity patients. I did ask if they had anyone else lose a baby on the ward since me, and sadly there has been one lady, but Wendy said due to lessons learnt from my experience, her ordeal had been handled very differently, so it’s reassuring to again know that it has helped others, even if it still brings me to tears every time I think about it.

After a tour of the room, and chatting to various members of staff, I was invited out to cut the ribbon! There were lots more staff waiting outside, and it was heart warming to see them all coming along to see the opening of this very special room. When I cut the ribbon I was astounded to see a brass sign saying Rebecca’s Room – I genuinely thought it was just going to be referred to that in paperwork/by the staff, not for all to see! Of course this made me cry (and mum), but Wendy was on hand to give me a big hug. There was a photographer there, and afterwards I had a chat with someone in communications, so there will be a press release coming out soon that I will share with you all.

The room is brilliant, it will always be a sad time for the parents that use that room, but it certainly is a more tranquil setting, and is equipped to deal with things so much better now. I am in awe of Wendy (and her team) – her determination, her passion and her drive to get this done. It really does feel like a miracle. I can’t wait for Wendy to meet the little man, and I really feel I have a friend for life, she will always hold a special place in my heart. Ultimately, the world needs more Wendy’s!!!