I've been looking at a lot of older threads thanks to Glow's new search function. On many of them, there was a lot of activity, lots of interaction, mothers feeling like they were getting to know each other, etc. I don't know if there are others like me out there, but I'm currently using Glow as one of my lifelines to not feel completely, 100% alone in the loss of my perfect, full-term child during early labor (evidently a cord accident). So I'm starting this thread to say, if you're out there, say hello! Let's get a conversation going. Let's connect. Surely I am not the only mother desperately wishing to talk to another one in similar shoes today. Although this is a depressing topic, I'm going to start the conversation with the prompt "I lost..." If you feel up to it, please chime in with your own thoughts or whatever else is on your mind today. You can be anonymous... speak up if you want!

I lost...
- First and foremost, my perfect child, whom I had been anticipating for the entire beautiful pregnancy and for years before that
- Complete confidence in Mother Nature (she really screwed me over there at the very, very end)
- The carefree, wide-eyed innocence I held throughout my entire pregnancy
- The ability to look at my magical, wonderful pregnancy without now feeling sad at the most stunningly awful ending
- Faith in some of the medical reactions and advice given here and there
- Attention span to focus on anything besides my missing child
- Peace of mind that I did all the right things, since I could have been far more hyper-vigilant about movement but was not
- Happiness for others... I actually really resent everyone else who has healthy children right now
- The desire to be around people the way I used to, the pleasure in socializing, the ability to listen to a carefree story without judging it and thinking of it as small potatoes compared to the heavier things in life
- Trust in any sort of karma, sense of right and wrong, order of the universe - as I consider my child's death cruel, senseless, NOT "meant to be" or "for a reason," and absolutely unfathomable
- Faith that I really will have a living child, ever - I am scared to even hope this will happen... and think I would always be paranoid that the child would still die at some point too soon even if not at birth
- The lifestyle I imagined, the extended maternity leave, the summer with my baby, the nursery, the accessories, the moments, the firsts, the new mom adjustments, the "oohs" and "ahhs" from excited family and friends
- The happiest moment of my life
- The opportunity to gleefully share my child with others whether in conversation, pictures, texts, etc.
- Getting to see my husband as a father
- Feeling like "I did it!" about birth - I DID do it, but nothing about "it" went as imagined
- A clean conscience... I ALWAYS wonder what I did wrong, what I could have done differently, if I cared too much about this or that, if I had been too influenced by this silly opinion and should have been more focused on something else, etc.
- My entire future with my child and the change of pace in my life that I had so anticipated and was so ready for
- A LOT of time, to now be back at square one - but with a whole grief journey to deal with now too
- Any desire to ever attend a baby shower or receive a birth announcement for probably the rest of all time
- Relating to any of my closest friends, who almost all have children (some on round 2 now) or are expecting... All friendships feel like they are on hold right now
- Watching my family members become grandparents, aunts, uncles
- Getting to be part of the new mommy club where we swap stories of sleepless nights, spit-up, and the like
- Any carefree thought ever
- All the work and effort and time that went into meticulously caring for this pregnancy - the appts, the classes, the books, the gear, etc.
- The ability to go anywhere without being nervous about what triggers I will encounter, whether I'll be asked if I have children, etc.
- The sense of optimism and hopefulness I used to have about life, especially the life I was supposed to have with my new little family and newborn
- Hearing "congratulations!"
- Being a mother to my live child and, most of all, seeing HER achieve her dreams in this world, or even take a single breath

I totally agree with everything you lost. I feel the same.

I lost:
The luxury of enjoying a pregnancy
The innocence of believing things would "be ok"
Faith in my body's ability
Friends
The chance to celebrate events without always missing my baby
"Firsts" with my child
A sibling for my LC

Hi Anon,

Everything you wrote is pretty much word for word what I've been thinking and feeling.

I lost...
My 7 day old child to an enterovirus
The warmth of Maddie sleeping on my chest
The hours of nursing and rocking
The sound of her laugh
The look on her face looking up at me
The fun Mia would've had playing with her little sister
My optimism
My ability to truly be happy
The desire to talk to my pregnant friends or friends with kids about their experiences
My ability to trust myself

I torture myself with the what ifs and the many decisions that could have altered Madeline's fate and mine.
I don't know if I can ever get over the fact that I might have been able to save her. Everyone says not to think like that
And that it's not my fault but as a mother I don't know if that's possible. I will forever wonder about her and because of that I don't know if this pain will ever go away. Maybe it won't be intense as others have said but I kind of want it to be. I want to feel the pain. Because I hurt as much as I love her. I wish I would've known how much I really love her before she went away and for that I feel guilty as well.

Let's hopefully get more stories going. This is truly one of the only ways I've been able to cope. Sharing these tragic stories written so beautifully have helped me get through the days. So thank you. And hugs to everyone out there who is sadly part of this club.

Katrina: thank you for your lovely post. I am thinking about you and your sweet Maddie. You know, I read these sad (but as you said, beautifully written) stories, and for a moment I think, "I just cannot imagine..." and then I realize that, unfortunately, I really can. I hate that we all have this in common - but if our lives must continue with this as our reality, I am grateful for a community of other loving, grieving parents out there.

You mentioned losing "my ability to trust myself" - I really understand that. Even on things very unrelated to childbearing or childbirth, sometimes when I am asked my opinion now, I'll have one... but then I'll think, "But what do I know? I didn't even know anything was wrong with my own child." The self-beating I can give myself is brutal, but it sometimes feels warranted.

I torture myself with the what-ifs, too. All the time. The fact is, I (and you) probably acted like most normal, smart women act in pregnancy and as mothers. But we got dealt really shitty situations that most other mothers do not. In most cases, your story or mine just do not happen. Those women are lucky and might not even realize just how much, since it's way more common for things to end their way than our way. If my child had lived, I would have known I was blessed and all that, but I wouldn't have had nearly the appreciation for the fragility of life that I do now. I wish I didn't know. I surely miss that ignorant bliss and confidence that all would continue to go well.

I can't seem to shake those what-ifs either. Even when ppl try to talk me out of them, sometimes it helps a little - but I'm always still playing through the possibilities, especially the final days. It kills me to know that we were THIS close to our happy ending, to a completely different life - and instead we'll spend a lifetime wondering what the hell happened to this otherwise flawless journey. What a shame. And sometimes I DO feel ashamed, embarrassed almost, even though of course I never wanted this to happen and never thought it could or would. But that feeling of failure is enormous. Huge.

Thinking of you and the other grieving mothers and fathers tonight.

Anon,

I was afraid to admit it before but I too feel ashamed and embarrassed. Here I was waddling around with my proud pregnancy face. Forewarning everyone of my soon to be absence and mommy brain. I don't know how I'm going to go back to work now with nothing to show for it. How will I face people knowing they're feeling sorry for me and uncomfortable talking to me. When someone asks how I am I'm almost annoyed because hello? How do you think? But when someone doesn't give their condolences or ask how I am I'm also hurt and upset.

I wish people I know knew how I felt. But that would mean that this awful thing would've happened to them too. And I don't want that. Or do I? Just so I could have someone to share this grief with.

Yep, I understand everything you said, even having the (further shameful) thought of almost wishing it would happen to someone else, so that someone would know how to relate to this. I've seen other threads on this board where ppl admitted to those thoughts, too. I don't think we're alone with this, but they are hard to say out loud. Regarding other people who are pregnant or whose babies lived, I've had ppl say, "I know it's hard for you to see so-and-so; you're happy for her, but you're sad for yourself." The cold, hard truth is that I'm not even happy for her either. I just can't admit that publicly.

And yes, I understand the feeling of being embarrassed to return to old places and people with nothing to show for your absence, besides the "new" you, who - if you're anything like me - is like a shell of the former version. I talked about the baby and my upcoming maternity leave all the time. I was so proud of my pregnancy and excited to be away doing my new mommy thing.

Hi,

Everything you said.

I lost my first child.
I lost Audrey
I lost the purity of pregnancy
the idea I could be a mum, then in 16 weeks that my imaginings of being a mum was wrong
I lost the connection to the world
I lost faith in the universe
I lost a big part of me. There is a massive whole
I lost the ability to be strong
I lost patience for others.
I lost faith in myself.
I lost not being alone
I lost so much that I can not even say

I blame myself. I must have done something wrong. Missed something. I feel isolated and alone, even though I am not. I just can't express myself. I keep trying to "talk", but words just come out wrong, if at all.

Sorry I want to join in but don't think I am doing very well.

Hello Anon,
Thank you for posting this thread, it's much needed here, indeed it's gotten a little quiet and thank you for taking the time to start a conversation. I am Jo-Anne and I lost so much of me.. my baby Zia who was stillborn on 16 July 2016, who I used to be, who I could have been, who I I had hoped to be. I have lost friends and some family too, I have lost the future I should have had and never will. I have lost my innocence. I have indeed lost so much of what you already highlighted, what i added and possibly a whole lot more but I am grateful that in that difficult time, I found the Glow community, they helped in more ways than I can truly express. I am sorry for your loss and hope that you will find some comfort here as I and others before us have.

Emma and Jo-Anne: Thanks for joining the conversation. Emma, no worries, there is no right or wrong way to chime in - I am glad you are here (although sad you have a reason to be, of course).

I constantly feel like I'm grieving twice at all times. I'm grieving the baby and all of the things I mentioned in my original post. And then I'm sad about the fact that I am grieving all the time - just knowing what my life should look like versus what it does. Even if I allow myself a snippet of time to feel happy, I am ALWAYS aware that the happiness is nowhere like where it should be, that my idea of happy got punched in the gut, that I was SO close to having such a different reality. Counseling, support groups, Glow, etc., all help a little - but I feel so sad to even need to seek them out, instead of changing diapers and snuggling my girl right now.

Hugs to you all.

I lost

- two babies three and a half years apart
- my sister
- some friends
- my energy
- faith in my own body
- ability to connect to new people that haven't lost a baby
- ability to smalltalk
- birthdays, christmases, milestones with the lost ones
- lost the joy of watching my sisters youngest and my brother in-law youngest connecting and playing together, bornd the same year as our little miss s that died. All I can see is an emptiness between them.

And a lot more.
My oldest living child lost here innocence and learned that babies can die at the age of two. I couldn't shield here from the cruel world.

Anon,

Thank you. It is good to share. My husband and I find it hard to be around parents who don't appear ( in the snapshot we see) , to appreciate what they have. The unfairness of it. We are finding ourselves struggling with bitterness, but neither of us want to be that way.

I feel ashamed that I failed in my duty to protect Audrey. I failed to protect her from my body. The one place she should have been safe. I failed to not take my husbands mental breakdown personally. Audrey was with ne through that heart ache and as soon as it settled she left. I failed in so many ways. I failed to give my husband his dream, I failed to keep Audrey safe so that we coyld finally have a child we longed for. I will never hear my husband read to our child, play and laugh with our child. I will never see him write and design books for her. I want the life I had been dreaming of.

I struggle to not soend every day in tears.

Thank you all for sharing.

How new are each of your losses? We lost Audrey Ailsa on the 31st July 2016. She was only 16 gestational weeks.

I'm so glad for all you guys sharing. I'm on 2 baby center groups for infant losses but it's not as intimate as Glow. I also got on a couple of Facebook groups but it's more of the same. The interaction is surface level. I suppose with any groups it's expected that not all comments will be commented on or that people will share very intimate details of their story and shameful thoughts that have come up. So for that I'm grateful to have found this community.
I can't even tell my husband most of these thoughts because he doesn't share the same feelings and is also grieving very differently. I've lost the openness we once had. I also kind of feel like I've lost my ability to be happy with him and our marriage. That is scary. Because how will I get through this without him? How will we fulfill the dreams we had for our family?

Emma- I lost Maddie (Madeline) July 1, 2016. She was 7 days old. I haven't received the autopsy report yet but we're pretty sure it was from the Enterovirus that she had. We were discharged from the NICU and told she would get over the virus. Well she didn't. She died about 30 hours after discharged. I'm so sad and angry. Not at just the doctors but myself. I should have known something was wrong. I should've taken her to the ER. I should've done a lot of things. But I didn't. I just can't believe it. Here she was born healthy and perfect. But her environment killed her.

I'm so sorry for all our losses. But I think the more people share the easier it is to feel less alone. Thinking of all of you.

I am so sorry for your losses.

Katrina, I know how you are feeling is "normal", but you believed the medics were right. We trust others, that trust for me has now gone. I don't trust so easily now. No amount of don't blame yourself from others will help. I blame myself for not realising I had an infection. For not pushing for people to take my discomfort seriously.

I hope that the isolation you feel with your husband will pass. I too feel isolated, but from everyone. I have no-one that feels this massive loss. I know it's not the same as many of yours. I feel selfish and foolish when I compare what others have gone through. I don't want to be part of this 1% club. I want to be part of the club that sails through pregnancy with no real issues. I want to hold a baby in my arms. I want to see her grow up. To hear the laughter, to wipe away the tears. To even tell her off.

I feel like such a massive failure. I failed my husband, his and my family, I failed Audrey. I failed my friends, who were so happy for me.

I am trying to return to work, but I cry nearly all morning. I have no confidence left. No desire to be alive.

We are two years out from our second loss, and five and a half out from our first.

Scandinavian edo-girl

I am so sorry for your 2 losses. I am also sorry that your oldest living girl found out about tragedy and deathso early in life.

I doubt there is ever peace from the loss, but I hope there are some "brighter" days

Xxx

Tank you Emma,
There are brigther days, but I've got this blues hanging over me this time of year. Feeling that I've got this label, "oh that's the one, here with the dead kids" Midd my lost ones every single day.
But the intensity and raw pain I went trough in the begining, is no longer here.
It will be brigther, but you'll always remember and always love.

I am sorry that you feel you have a label. It's awful how others can make us feel. I don't understand why people are so insensitive.

I don't see how we could not miss our babies. I have a great fear that I will forget. That I won't remember her or being pregnant.

Sending you love and letting you know you are special

Hello, I'm really glad to connect with you all. I only just found Glow, and so far it has brought me great comfort to read stories so similar to my own. Somehow the pain is lessened when it is shared with others who truly understand. My heart goes out to us all.

I lost my baby 8 weeks ago tomorrow, in the NICU at the Hospital for Sick Children. He was 20 days old when He died, but He should still be in my womb right now. He was the strongest and most resilient person I've ever known. He hung on to life with a humbling tenacity, right to the bitter f***king end. He is my hero and my example.

Right now I struggle most with body image issues. Most regular women with living babies seem to want to return to their pre-pregnancy bodies as soon as possible. Losing all the baby weight and getting tight and toned is played up by the media... But I want to hold my mama-body forever. It's like I'm watching the remaining traces of Him disappear before my eyes as I look at myself in the mirror. As my milk dries up (I continued pumping for a spell to keep feeling connected to Him) I find that I want to lock my breasts away from my husband, in a bizarrely vindictive way. He doesn't understand how powerfully I wanted to nurse our son. He couldn't possibly, and I know it's not his fault.

My breasts ache with the loss of their purpose. It feels as though they are grieving too.

On one hand I feel so beautiful, in my own eyes, because I know this body supported my precious son as best it could for as long as it could... I tried so hard to keep Him in...

The events leading up to the loss of my son started with a seemingly insignificant event: being sandwiched in a minor fender-bender at 13 weeks = marginal placental abruption = sub chorionic hematoma = concealed bleeding for 5 weeks = pprom = preterm birth = NEC = emergency surgery and septic shock = severe brain haemorrhaging...

On one hand I feel so beautiful to myself, yet so unattractive to my husband (though he is wonderful and kind and I know these feelings are coming from me) and the rest of the world.

I want to hold onto my mom-body and hide it away from all those who don't understand how much I love Him, and the anguish His absence causes to my organs and parts that exist only to nourish and nurture Him into being. Which is to say, everyone. I am just now realizing how angry and resentful I am that this form of pain is mine alone.

I also currently struggle with the urge to just disappear. I wish that I could pack a small bag and vanish in the night, leaving a short note to loved ones telling that I am ok, but not to look for me. I want to leave this life I had built for myself and start somewhere new, and maybe never come back. Does anyone else ever feel this way?

Thank you for starting this thread. It feels good to have a place to begin to air the ugly, anguished thoughts that I am otherwise unwilling to share.

Our pain is so unique and so personal, but for all of us it is probably the real-est thing we've ever known, along with the love for our children. My heart genuinely aches for all of you. This kind of pain is so unbearably cruel. I will never forget your babies. Thank you for sharing part of their stories here.

Melissa, the getting away and disappearing is EXACTLY what I am feeling like right now. My grief councilor had told me that if I was able, to completely get away for as long as possible because of family dynamics where my husband and I are staying...his dad has dementia, so we now live with my in-laws, but I am the only one in the house with a drivers license so everyone is dependent on me, both for transportation and meals, because no one else puts thought into it until an hour before supper when everything is still frozen. Fortunately, I WAS able to take the time and get away for a month to Ireland and Scotland. UNFORTUNATELY, I know how comfortable I am over there, and now I despise being here. I don't know how realistic it is, but just yesterday I was looking at programs to do overseas volunteer work, that sort of thing.

Wow Paula, it sounds like you are going through SO MUCH crap, on top of dealing with a loss. I know that sometimes things can't be helped (like your father-in-law can't help having dementia...), but it just isn't right that you are being asked to shoulder all of this responsibility while dealing with a traumatic loss. Grief and baby/pregnancy loss put us at a severe and long-lasting energetic deficit... You aren't functioning from your normal energy levels. Your energy gas tank is at an all time low, because so much of your energy is going towards processing your loss. You don't have extra energy to care for other adults right now. Leave, if you can. Do what you need to do for you. Whatever that is. I mean this in the most loving but serious way: F**k everyone else... you have to take care of you. You are important and precious, and you need time and space to move through your grief and heal your beautiful heart.
I'm so so sorry for what you're going through. I'm sorry for the loss of your baby.

Sending you Love.