I don't know where this post is going or why I'm even writing... I felt I needed to - I haven't posted before. Please forgive me for this lack of focus - and for the inevitable length of it.

Four years ago my little girl, Lena, was born too early and too fast for any interventions to be put into place to save her life - after the hospital sent us home telling me there was no chance I was in labour. I very, very much was. I rushed back about 45mins later, and a team of amazing specialists who rushed in from the NICU in another hospital tried resuscitating Lena for about half an hour after she was born. The footling breech birth at 26 weeks and 4 days gestation was just too traumatic for her to survive.

Through the very quick labour and birth, I 100% thought it was me that was dying... when I realised that I was now going to live, the horror that this meant it was likely my daughter would die instead absolutely broke me.

Just under a year later, my son was born in similar circumstances - he tried to come out at exactly the same gestation, and in-fact every day from 25 weeks until a difficult emergency c-section at 31 weeks at the hospital with the wonderful NICU staff who tried to save Lena. He lived - lives! - after two months in the NICU. And he's a thoroughly amazing three year old.

I have relatively recently been discharged from my specialist maternal mental health psychologist after intensive treatment for PTSD over the last three and a half years - maybe three months ago?

Two days after my discharge from my psychologist I rushed my son to the emergency room, in the same hospital where Lena was born and died, as something didn't feel right with him. I was dismissed by the triage nurse and told to sit down for a very long wait because there was nothing wrong with my son... then he had a series of seizures, the first in the waiting room of the ER, and was non-responsive for about 40 minutes. They had to cut his little clothes off. I held his hand and told him I was there and explained everything that was happening. I was thinking "shit - I'm going to be leaving this hospital without another of my babies... seriously??"

He's ok now - his seizures are still not completely explained, but we were lucky to discover because of them that he had pneumonia, which he's fully healed from after a week long stay in the children's ward. A couple of weeks after his discharge, we were back in for 10 days with unexplained excessive vomiting and weight loss. Again, the strength of this kid... he's running around as if nothing happened... but something happened to me.

A couple of weeks ago, I prepared to take my own life. I had written notes, planned how it would be done - and even had a back-up plan if I chickened out of the first attempt.

I am still alive because I asked for help, and got it. I am now on medication to help me get through the day, and the night, and have my partner, doctor, family and friends right by my side as I rebuild what it means to still - thankfully - be alive.

For four years I have felt like a walking crime scene - like I couldn't get away from that awful place where this terrible thing happened, because that terrible thing happened in me. I still feel this strongly... but I also feel the strength inherent in me that I not only survived the worst thing I could think of to have happen, the loss of my child, I survived looking directly at my own mortality.

I don't know who I have become after what I've battled hard at for four years, but I am starting to think she's a pretty cool lady - she's at least strong as hell, and surely that means something.

I don't know where I'm going with all of this... but the main thing is that I *am* going. I'm still going.

Thank you for reading this far, if you did. xx

Tammy,
I did read and am so glad you seeked out help and are here with all your love joy and pain. Just reading what you experienced made my heart race and I hope your little guy is now fully recovered. PTSD is tough - I had it for a while too and was also “cleared” of it. But I can see how this experience would cue your mind back to a terrible place. Hoping you have some peace tonight.

tammy,
thank you for sharing your story here and thank you for getting help when you need it. you sound pretty cool to me. losing a baby is so hard. i have living children too and wrestle with a lot of anxiety of what could happen to any of us. stay strong.
sending you and your family lots of love.

This shirt sure messes with our heads.
I lost my daughter just over a year ago and 6 months ago my 4 yr old ran out in the road and almost got hit, the driver slammed on the breaks and miraculously he was fine. For a second I thought I had too lost him and I had flashes of loosing both my children. But like your son, he's still here. I have dreams of losing him too. One in which he was kidnapped and was not coming back to us, I came to the conclusion that i couldn't bear to live without my two children and so would commit suicide. Luckily I woke up and realised it was just an awful nightmare. But in that dream I was convinced that it was the only way forward. Of course, I cannot pretend to understand as what I experienced was just a dream.
I'm glad you're on medication. Have you tried combining other therapies too?
Sending lots of strength, compassion and love xx

Thank you so, so, so much for reading my post - and replying. You can't imagine (or maybe you can?) how much it meant to me to have such kind words sent my way from strangers who get it.

Kim - I'm so sorry you also had to deal with PTSD. I wonder if, like me, you didn't really believe this thing was so debilitating until you experienced it yourself? I was so sure it was something you could just 'get through' - then I was reliving my traumas as if I was still experiencing it, and I can hand on my heart tell anyone that this thing is real, real, real. I know you get it. Thank you so much for your reply and I hope you're doing ok.

Em - Thank you so much for your reply. Having living children is amazing! But for those of us who have experienced what it's like to no longer have one living... it can be so painful. I think *you* sound pretty cool too. Thank you for your strength - and sending you and all of your family lots of love, from me and my family.

Machaela - oh my heart... I can only imagine what it must have been like for you when your son ran out into the traffic...I'm so, so pleased he's ok. I also know how real dreams can feel so I know you understand - and thank you. So much. I hope you've had more peaceful times in your dreaming and awake sake since that awful, awful nightmare.. Re the combined therapies, while I'm back on medication, I'm also running on coping tools I gained over some time with a specialist maternal mental health psychologist I was assigned when I was pregnant with my son. With her I underwent CBT but also EMDR, specifically to try to process the traumas and allow the flashbacks to become memories instead of daily 'reality'. The medication gives me the space to use the tools I've learned, and to access my strength to make the right decisions about mine and my family's future.

Much love, strength, and positivity to all of your strong mamas. Keep being the amazing women I know you are xx

I’m so sorry for your loss and struggles. I lost my son at 27 weeks, and my son lived for three days before he died in my arms. Suicide is such a taboo subject. My father killed himself and it was really hard on me- a lot of guilt, but I know he chose what was best for him, although incredibly sad for others. After I lost my son, I thought about suicide constantly. I didn’t really get to the planning stage, but I constantly said that I wanted to die. I told my husband my feelings, but I refused to tell any medical professionals because I didn’t think i was truly serious and didn’t want to then get labeled as a suicide risk. I actually wanted to die passively - like get hit by a car or die in an airplane crash. I knew it would really hurt my husband if I killed myself, just as it hurt me when my father killed himself. One year out, I feel better, and haven’t had suicidal thoughts for the last 6 months or so. I think I regained hope, once we became pregnant again (I’m really sorry if that is a trigger, but I just want to be truthful on my experience). I’m glad you’re getting help. Anyway, I am mainly writing this message because I don’t think we talk about suicide after infant loss, but I bet a lot more of us think about it than we are willing to admit. I know I wasn’t brave enough to tell a forum how I felt, so thank you for your honestly and bravery! Again, I’m sorry for your loss, and that suicide after baby loss is the subject we find ourselves talking about. With love and hope.