We had our rainbow babe, a boy, back in June after losing our daughter, Chiara, in August 2012. We also have a 3.5 year old, and so we are getting used to being a family with 2 living children. There is not much sleep, but there is so much joy. I do find myself trying to stay in the moment as much as possible, soak it all in, love these children as much as I can. This while also trying to be a good partner, work full time, etc. It is a lot to manage. And then there is the grief, and the parenting of our dear little girl.

Last year was so brutal: enduring her loss, and then white-kuckling it through a pregnancy. I am so grateful for her little brother, so thrilled to experience his babyness, his darling little being. But the grief is still there. I know this normal. I know it won't go away. I know this is because we loved her and still wish she was here with us. But it is so fucking hard. And it does not stop. The missing her just goes on and on, despite the joy. A year later we are so raw, not miserable. In fact, we are very happy, but still there is the sadness. It trickles in. What could have been displaces what is and I long for her. So I try to stay in the moment, love these boys the best I can. As my littlest one grows and grows, I become anxious that he will be our last, and that sends me spinning into more sadness.

Mothers of rainbow babies, how are you coping? How are you balancing the joy and the sadness? All mothers of living children, how are you running the marathon of motherhood and dealing with long, long grieving process? I keep asking myself, as I wipe the tears and head to work, to the grocery store, for a walk, sit down to nurse, make dinner, take a shower, etc. etc., will this be my life from now on, will there always be some crying, some longing? I'm pretty sure the answer is yes. It's hard to wrap your head around that. Life will always be different without them.

I don't have any answers, just the same questions and experiences that you are having. I cry for Grace almost daily, I wish that she were here so fiercely it scares me sometimes. I also revel in the miracle of her baby sister, who I have the honor of raising and knowing and watching. I kiss her head all the time and cuddle her close and smell her sweet baby smell. I remember thinking that nothing on this Earth smelled as good as Grace. I tried to remember what the smell was, but that reptilian ancient part of my brain that senses smell does not have words.

My friend, I think my life will always include a longing. In my heart and in my mind, I just believe that. Some days I cry...yesterday was one of them. Many I don't cry outwardly. But part of me will always be shredded I think. But I'm fucking proud of how the other parts of me have strengthened, have adapted I guess, to allow me to be happy and shredded all at once.

Lots of love to you Aurelia.

Joy and sorrow, I read Kahlil Gibran's poem almost daily. It's like it was written for me. Do you know it? It sums it all up in such a beautiful way.
You wrote "the missing goes on despite the joy" and "we are very happy but there is the sadness" and it's almost like you feel guilty for being sad. Our society is all about: "Don't be sad!" Instead I say: "It's OK to be sad." Joy and sorrow go together. That's why I have such a hard time relating to other "regular" moms. They can't possibly understand the joy because they don't know the sadness. Even pre-loss, I knew how lucky I was because I waited a long time to find the father of my kids and I had given up on my absolute dream: being a Mom.

So I say: "the missing goes on so does the joy". " We are happy AND there is sadness".

Aurelia, I also have a 3.5 year old, I lost a baby girl in March last year and we had our rainbow boy in August this year.

All I can say is I feel the same. I'm so grateful for this big chubby beautiful boy in my arms but my heart aches for the little girl I never got to take home.

It's always as if, even among the joy, there's someone missing. And I guess that's forever. This is our new normal. I'm just trying to make the joy outweigh the sorrow and I think with time maybe it will.

We lost Arwyn and Zola in May 2012 and brought home Kai Luna this June. I continue to long for my girls, continue to wish I could have changed the last 72 hours of my first pregnancy. I still cry often but have come to love those tears; they eventually bring me to a place of intense joy and gratitude. I am the happiest I've been in my entire life these last 5 months with Kai. For me, like Karine, these feelings are inseparable. I would not know this joy without the heartbreak and that heartbreak is made more bearable with this joy. It's ok for me to go on like this -- experiencing one, missing two and loving all three.

Thank you all for your responses. I feel like I am constantly re-learning that this is now my life, and that the grief will always be bigger or smaller, but never gone. I think I am stubborn, wanting the joy to outweigh, or to outrun the sadness, and then it doesn't. And then I am sad, and mad to be sad, and mad that this happened, and missing my baby girl. In my more grounded moments, I can see the joy and sorrow intertwined (like the Gibran poem- just beautiful, Karine, thanks for sharing), but mostly I am just caught off guard by the strength of the continued sadness, and by its invisibility. In real life, there are 3 people I speak to about my ongoing grief: my husband, who shares all of it, my best friend, who might check in monthly about it, and my therapist, again, monthly. So much of the daily pain and sadness is just borne so alone. It is isolating. Thank goodness for all of you, for knowing that others are out there, bearing this, too.

I am struggling in similar ways, as well. I love Gabe so much, yet (or AND as Karine suggests) the sadness and longing for Charlotte remain. I am in a very intense, high-stakes time at work, working at least 55-60 hours a week, and I'm a single mom. Things have been really hard lately. Gabe and I went through a rough patch with nursing a few weeks ago, and it was more devastating to me than I ever could have imagined. I found myself growing extremely frustrated both with myself and with Gabe, and feeling detached from him. When the nursing started to hit the skids, our bond really, really suffered and I lost my cool several times. Through all of that, I started to feel like I have somehow lost my right to grieve Charlotte because I have been such a shitty mom to Gabe. There has been much more sadness than joy in this house for the past 4.5 months. AtoZ, when I hear you say that these five months have been the happiest of your life, I so wish that was me. But, it's not. The truth is, I'm pretty miserable most of the time. Yet, I love this boy so much it hurts so that just makes it all worse. I am sad and guilty almost 100% of the time. We've resolved our nursing issue and things are getting alot better. But, in general, motherhood is not what I thought it would be and as much as I love Gabe, I really don't enjoy being a mother. Because I know the pain of losing a child, the guilt I have over feeling that way is pretty awful. I think daily about how I wish this was not my life. That I had never had to know babyloss, and that I had never even gotten pregnant in the first place.

And sorry if that post was too much of a downer or too brutally honest. That's just where I am these days.

Nikki - I'm so sorry. Your post wasn't too honest or too much of a downer - I thought it was brave. Motherhood is hard. I lose my cool with my kids and then I feel like such a shit because I should know better and just be grateful that they're here, but as you know, life isn't that simple. And you have a lot of challenges - long work weeks, single parenting and the exhaustion - be gentle with yourself. You have a lot on your plate - you don't need to add feeling guilty and inadequate to it. Sending much love.

And Aurelia - yes, it'll always be different. For me, I'm 5 years out from my loss and have had 2 babies since and I will say that I have moments where I think of what was lost, wondering who he would be, would he be like the other two, different, etc. but those moments are gentle. The tears still come on occasion but not v. often. I miss him, that's for sure, but I know there is nothing to be done. I suppose I have come to a place of acceptance - it took a lot of time, tears, anger and longing to get to that place.

Nikki, I am so sorry that you are feeling this way! Don't apologize, it is so brave to own those feelings and share them. I cannot imagine how hard being a single Mom would be, after a day of caring for Rosabella when my DH is working I am exhausted and pretty snitty with my DH when he gets home. I know that your Mom was going to provide child care when you went back to work, but then a family emergency changed those plans. Is Gabe in Day care or with another family member? I know that finding time for therapy is a stress in and of itself, and finding the right therapist is tricky, but maybe having a time set aside to discuss what you are feeling with a professional would be worth the hassle? If you have a MISS Foundation chapter in your area maybe they could refer you to a therapist with experience in baby loss. Sending peace and a large glass of red wine your way.

Just another wanting to send love and large glasses of wine and/or cups of tea to everyone here. I have been trying to pluck up the courage to post something in the 'parenting after loss' section as I feel I am starting to struggle again at the moment. I recognise so many of the experiences that have been posted above.

I lost one of my twin girls five years ago to extreme prematurity but was incredibly lucky to have her sister survive. So I am very blessed to have a living child here, and in good health. Joy was always going to outweigh sorrow for me even though sometimes that was done by sheer will of my needing it to be so. I never wanted my surviving child to feel that she was not enough or less than I wanted in any way. Having seen her battle her way through a nasty time in hospital so I have always been one of the luckiest amongst the unlucky as it were. But it's a tattered happiness (that feeling of being happy and shredded is one that really speaks to me Annie) And obviously there are some developmental issues left over. Very minor in the grand scheme of things but always there are reminders of a time when I still feel that I let her down horribly.

I've subsequently had another child, a single boy, who was born at term and healthy. But he is now a two year old, feisty toddler with all the attendant stresses that brings. And I'm now 40 weeks pregnant with another little girl who is due to arrive today - hopefully she won't keep me waiting too much longer.

I can't help feeling that I've 'bitten off more than I can chew' - I find that tangle of joy and sorrow maddening and frustrating at times. I want to be grateful and happy and a perfect, perfect mother. Or just be free of constantly second guessing myself, comparing myself to the mother that I might have been had all of this craziness not happened.

I'm so far away from what I feel would be 'good' or even acceptable and when I fail I feel so hideously guilty and ungrateful. Particularly when I 'lose my cool' as you put it so well Nikki. My heart goes out to you, it is really tricky. I feel as though when Georgina died I took a real knock out blow and I've spent the last five years desperately trying to scramble to my feet again. It's all just such a mess and everything to do with my relationships with my children, motherhood, pregnancy, childbirth, the whole kit and kaboodle so endlessly, endlessly complicated that it makes me feel exhausted. Worn out.

I've worked part time since having the twins and I find it hard enough to manage even those hours and motherhood. I wish I had some practical advice or help for you Nikki but please know that you are not alone with some of these difficult feelings. Sorry for such a long post but this one has been brewing for some time!

Thanks for the understanding words, everyone. Though I'm sorry that anyone else goes through it, I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only one who struggles. Also, I hope I didn't come off as complaining about being a single parent. I chose to be a single parent, and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way. But, it does come with challenges. I wish that there was a way to know for sure if parenting is or is not for you before having a baby. But, there isn't. If I had it to do all over again, I would have never gotten pregnant, period. But that doesn't mean that I don't love both of my children dearly, and I'll always do the best that I can to make sure that Gabe has a happy life. There are definitely moments of wonder and joy with him. It's just that, for me, the joy does not outweigh the sadness and feelings of regret. I just try to enjoy the good moments when I have them, and accept the rest.

Grace's Mom - Thankfully, my mom is back in town and she is taking care of Gabe while I'm at work. It is a huge relief knowing that he is so well cared for. Though I won't lie, my relationship with my mom is complicated and it hasn't all been smooth sailing. But, Gabe is well cared for and that is what matters. I know that therapy works for some people, but it's not for me. I find it to be a waste of time and money. Not trying to knock it at all and I know it is great for those who benefit from it. It just isn't for me. I hope you and Rosabella are doing well.

Catherine W - I'll be wishing you a safe and healthy delivery! I hope your little girl is in your arms soon, and that your other children will give you a break while the new one settles in!

Thanks for this post, Aurelia. I'm feeling the challenge of parenting through grief. My living child is almost 5, and as many of you know I've lost 2 babies while trying to bring home a second. There are so many amazing moments parenting my son, but I know I'm quicker to anger and so much less patient on the hard days. I have no resolution or living rainbow baby yet, so I feel very much in limbo. But I also worry about the stresses of parenting a new baby, should we have another living child, because I know the pain of losing Leo and Sofia won't disappear. It's tough. I'm doing my best.

Hi again, ladies. I continue to read these responses and they help me frame and process my own journey. Thank you for telling about your experiences.

Nikki, I am so glad that you added to this discussion. I've thought of you so often, knowing that you and I were on such a close timeline with our losses and births. I always think of your bravery, of your strong voice, and I feel that again in your recent posts. I'm so sorry that your motherhood is tinged with regret, and that you and Gabe have struggled to bond. I'm glad that the recent nursing issues have abated and I hope that you have more and more moments of joy. You deserve them, an infinite number of them.

One thing that I was reminded of when reading your posts is how hard it was for me to mother my first child. He was a preemie at 33.5 weeks due to pre-e and was in the NICU for 10 days. I was in the hospital for 2 weeks before he was born. While he is fine and healthy now, at the time it was all pretty traumatic. We struggled with breastfeeding and in the end I pumped all milk he was fed for 10 and 1/2 months. I felt so awful for him needing to come early, needing the NICU, the pumping was almost an obsession. It enabled me to do something for him, to give him something. It was a frantic first year, back to work full time and commuting and hour each way and pumping 6X day and feeding. And there were lots of tears, and lots of not feeling good enough.

When I think back on this, on how awful I felt sometimes, with a healthy infant who just arrived a little early and wasn't a good breastfeeder, I feel an enormous amount of sympathy for anyone mothering their first living baby after a loss. My baby lived, he was growing, he was fine, but I didn't feel like I was doing a good job. I went to a mother's group each week and fought back tears, simply feeling overwhelmed by all of the demands of motherhood and seriously wondering if I could fulfill them all. The best things I heard at that meeting each week, and at the lactation consultant were: "you are a good mother, you are working so hard for this baby, you are doing a good job." I feel like all new mothers, and maybe especially baby loss moms, need a recording they can play when they are their worst that will say these words over and over. You are doing so much for Gabe, and I know you are good mother. You are working so hard for him. You have been through so much. I hope that as Gabe grows and your mothering him changes, that your feelings of joy will eventually outweigh the sadness. I wish it for all of us that the equation gets titled this way.

Finally, I want to thank Catherine and Annie for the notion of a tattered happiness. It's a little like the Velveteen Rabbit, always a favorite of mine. Lots of love to all. I look forward to this conversation continuing. XO

tilted, I wish that equation gets tilted this way!

I also love reading everyone's "voice" here. I lack the time to comment on everyone's post. However, wanted to say something about Nikki's. Your work schedule seems really crazy. That alone would make me depressed and miserable, even if I was childless and only had myself to take care of. Also, from various posts it seems like you don't really enjoy it either. Here in Canada, no-one works that hard (apart from my DH!) unless they want to. You could be experiencing some PPD, although I doubt it. I think you're just stressed and burnt out. Babyloss intensifies our emotions, especially our guilt, but really it looks like it all stems from your work and your schedule. I know you don't like therapy but have you thought about a life coach that would help you re-organize your priorities and see how you could improve our quality of life? You're a good mom, no questions about this. But maybe to be a happy Mom, you have to lower your expectations and accept not to be so perfect.

Nikki, I hope you are getting ongoing counselling. Your precious boy deserves a mother who is present. Not all the time but much of it. Your grief doesn't have to mean your beautiful boy misses out on having his mum.

Nikki: Another who wants to reach out to you after reading your post. It truly sounds like you are suffering from postpartum depression. Please seek help. You deserve to feel better. Your son deserves a present and content mom, too.

I really hope that you reach out to someone, and very soon. It isn't fair to yourself or your son to delay.

We are here to support you.

To the rest of you... I am a seasoned veteran when it comes to baby loss. I can promise you that, over time, the joy will far outweigh the grief. As Monique said, you come to a place of acceptance. (In grief speak, I think it is called "integration"). The loss is a permanent part of you, but no longer overshadows all else.

To the Anon posters who feel like it is their place to criticize my work schedule or to make other sweeping judgments about my life: It is definitely not your place. Yep, I work lots of hours. That's the nature of my life right now. And, I've done everything in my power to reduce my hours as much as I am able to at the moment, and I am 100% present for my son every moment that I am with him. I'm so happy for you that neither of you have ever had a moment of uncertainty, regret, or darkness while navigating your own motherhood and grief. Truly a remarkable feat, given that most mothers who haven't even had the sadness of babyloss have experienced some intensely stressful, ugly, and uncertain moments in early motherhood. But really, I'm so glad for you that you are perfect enough to have never been there. Except, I highly doubt it. The difference is I feel free to be honest about my uncomfortable feelings, let out what I'm feeling, and then move on. I'm sorry that you chose to post anonomously, because I would like to know who to avoid on these boards in the future. Whoever you are, please be assured that when I post in the future, I am not talking to you. So feel free to keep your judgments of me and my life to yourself, whether you are speaking for yourself, or hiding behind anonymity.

Karine and Aurelia - I appreciate your kind words during what were an incredibly rough few days for me. Many of the unsettled feelings that I have come from exactly what you guys noted - fear that I'm not doing a good enough job for a son who deserves so much. When I'm able to look back on things rationally with a little sleep and distance, I know that I am actually doing a mighty fine job of mothering him. I'm proud to still be exclusively breastfeeding, despite the demands of my busy schedule, and I'm proud of the fact that I have a happy, thriving baby who is healthy as can be and continues to be ahead of every milestone. I'm going to continue to work on being more gentle with myself during the really hard times, and saving the bitchy, sanctimonious judgments for the Anon posters out there. =)

Nikki, please never refrain from being honest on this thread. It takes guts to talk about our dark moments, and I really appreciate that you didn't post anon. It takes a lot of courage to show our vulnerability and own up to it. When I was re-reading my response, I realized that it could have been interpreted as if I too was judging your work schedule. I'm glad you didn't "read" it that way. You should move to Canada, though, just sayin! Life is better up North!

Nikki: The last thing I am trying to do is to attack, criticize or judge you. My initial post was written out of genuine compassion. I don't want you to be unhappy. I want you to feel better. I'm sure I could have phrased it better.

I was responding to your very intense statements that you are pretty miserable most of the time; that you don't enjoy being a mother; that you wish this wasn't your life; that you wish you had not gotten pregnant in the first place.

I experienced postpartum depression after a pregnancy. Counseling helped a lot. An antidepressant did too. Sometimes it is easy to lose sight of how much hormones and body chemistry play a role in our emotions.

You've been through a lot. I meant it when I said you deserve to feel better. I meant it when I said that my words come from a place of extreme empathy, not judgment.

I don't come to glow so often now and only really found the forum threads after my rainbow was born in July after losing my first baby in July 2012 but I have read this thread thinking how much I identify with the original post and the feelings expressed so well by Nikki.

I have struggled - still am struggling - at times with motherhood. After yearning and praying for the safe arrival of D after losing R last year I honestly thought I would be able to put the hard parts of having a tiny baby into perspective, but that's not how things were at all.

I was not a natural at being a mom and I identify a lot with Nikki's first post. I'm not depressed, I do find joy in my beautiful boy and love him fiercely but I have times of feeling detached and frustrated too.

Karine's post rang true for me, it's ok to feel the clattering sadness. There is a damn good reason to feel sad, but I also have moments of proper joy and although they feel quite fleeting sometimes they start to creep in more and more until eventually (I hope) the sadness will become the milder more fleeting feeling.

Nikki, your honesty rang true with me and I am still on mat leave and have a lot of help from a very hands on DH so I am in awe of your achievements.

Oh and I forgot to put my answer to the question the original post asked!

I hope I always keep a bit of that longing for my first son. I want to keep hold of that pain because it's all I have left of him.

I don't mean that I will purposely make myself miserable forever just for the sake of it but I want to hold on to every little emotion I can that connects me to R and pain is an important part of that.

The thing that I've always found so wonderful about Glow is that no one says "this will make it all better". Our pain is validated and I hope I am able to come here and express my feelings of loss for many years without the pressure we often feel in real life to be at peace and 'happy again' now we have a living child.

Wow, Katlea. I had to respond right away when I read your second post. It captures a lot of what I have been feeling as I've passed the one year anniversary of losing my daughter. I don't want to forget her, and the feelings of sadness are what has connected me to her since she died. I find myself now looking for ways to incorporate her memory, her presence, into our lives. I find myself seeking, seeking, seeking for meaningful ways to do this that feel "right" for me, for our family. What are the ongoing rituals, what will we continue to do for her special days, for other special family days? How can I hold a place for her? How can I help my sons do that? What will it feel like when doing those things aren't quite as piercingly painful as they are now?

Monique, I am heartened by your post from further down the road, and I look forward to all of this being more integrated. Right now I feel I am thinking about Chiara and the fact that she is missing constantly, I feel our family of 4 living souls and I think part of me just keeps having to remember that she is gone, and then the pain and the anger arise. It's all very much in the forefront of my mind. I find myself wanting to talk about it, trying to work it out. Case in point, I am checking this thread constantly!

Nikki, keep being gentle with yourself. I do hope you can start to feel better through the day to day. You should be proud of what you've accomplished, and you deserve happiness. I hope it starts to shine through. A hug to you.

I hope this doesn't sound preachy. Something I have thought a lot about over the last two years is the difference - or differences - between having your first baby die or having a second or third or fourth baby die. When I was pregnant with E, who lived, I had no idea how to imagine what it would be like to have a baby. When she was born, she seemed like a stranger to me. I did not feel attached to her for several weeks. I cared for her and I loved her, but I did not feel that great bond. I didn't know if I liked being a mother. I missed my old life. And I was assured all the time that all those feelings were normal.

One of the persistent and - I think - horribly damaging myths about babyloss is that it makes us better mothers, more present, more able to be grateful for every little moment, more aware of the 'gift' of our babies. This might be so - to varying degrees for different people - but in no way does it make us perfect mothers. And yet, there seems to be that expectation: we will be perfect, we will not complain because we know the worst, we will be better than all of those who don't get it.

And dead babies are perfect babies, too. My little A is perfect. It is so easy and so natural to idealize our dead children. They are perfect to us. They should be.

But then, confronted by crabby, demanding, strange newborns and expected to be perfect, gracious, constantly grateful mothers....

It's a perfect storm if you ask me. (Which I realize nobody did.)

It is amazing that we are managing at all sometimes...we don't have to love every minute of it...we don't have to be grateful or gracious...The deaths of our children do not automatically make us better mothers or more appreciative. I know I was a much worse mother after A died.

I don't know if this is really helpful on this thread...but I hope it might be, to someone. And of course, I know there are women who do feel they are better mothers after and I respect that...I just feel bad that somehow this idea is sort of forced on us; it is rampant in the babyloss world; and i think it can hurt if it is not your own experience.

As for finding the joy...I find myself wanting to be more joyful these days...I remember the silly, singing, dancing mom I used to be for E and I want her back. I want E to have her back in her last days of being really little and just mine and I want M to know that mom. But the sadness is always there. Especially mid month I am realizing...A's days, the 12th, 13th, 14th. I am reading a book right now called Shadow Child, by a writer whose first baby was stillborn. Shadow child seems right to me, right now. A is the shadowy child who is always with us, but not always apparent. I see her in the shadows of her sister and brother...my middle child...and wonder what she would have been like at different ages...I think it will be this way forever. And honestly, I hope it is.

Love to you all.

Nikki, I think anyone who comments in these threads wants the best for you and responses are given out of care and concern. You can be scary with how aggressively you post sometimes so it's no wonder we choose to be anonymous some of the time when responding to you.

Nobody said we were perfect, or that we don't have times where we are down and low. It is of concern to me that you said you don't enjoy being a mother. If you think your baby doesn't pick up on his mom not enjoying him you're kidding yourself.

All anyone here has done is try to offer some advice (re work schedule) and encouragement (re counselling to help you enjoy the life you have).

I think getting some professional help for the anger would be beneficial for you. Everyone here cares, that's why we reply.

Aurelia, thank you for such a lovely response! I'm so glad you understood what I was trying to say, it's tough getting others (not blms) to understand that keeping a bit of that pain is what I want.

I don't want to speak out of turn but for the anon poster I feel quite intimidated by your post. As I said before Glow is the one place we can come and be honest with our pain and rage and people get it. I don't find angry or sad posts frightening because we all feel like that sometimes. I would feel very small and upset if someone responded to my posts saying "you should do this...".

Everyone is so different and I totally see that your post was prompted because you care, i think I just interpreted some of these posts as our place to vent and empathise. If you don't identify with a particular post that's ok but we all need to accept that we have to find our own way through this.

God I hope this doesn't cause more arguments, I just wanted to give a different perspective.

Wow. I only now read this thread for the first time. This discussion really struck a chord with me, and I'd like to share some thoughts on therapy an "unmotherly" feelings.

When I someone asks me how I'm doing, and I go a little beyond keeping it simple and saying I'm coping, when I share a few grueling details of what life is like at them moment, I can silently count backwards from ten and wait for it. "Are you still doing therapy?". Always. And most of the time, nothing more. I hate it. I hate when people are being pushy about therapy, especially if that's the only thing they can offer to say. It makes me feel like they want someone else to deal with it. Because my grief is too intense, my story too tragic and sad for them to bear sharing it with me, and that is all it would take sometimes to make me feel a bit better. It hate that it makes me feel like they think therapy is a magic fix, where I'll go in for say a dozen of sessions and a bit of acupuncture and walk out fixed. I can't be fixed, I need to heal in my own time.

I tried one therapist, and after a few sessions where I rambled and rambled, I noticed that all she did was sit there and look at me with puppy dog eyes. I don't need to pay 60€ an hour for that. I'm certainly not opposed to therapy. I've found a counselor now that I clicked with more, and it's good to have that hour a week to talk. I still think the the healing effect of it may a bit overrated and I can totally understand that it's not for everyone. I don't like it that therapy seems to be something that a babyloss parent is almost expected to do, along with attending support groups and going on holidays that are supposed to "take our mind off things". Shouldn't we let everyone decide for themselves if therapy is for them or not?

Nikki, I really don't think that those feelings you wrote about are all that crazy. Just honest, and a reflection of what obviously must have been a very rough few days, as we can see from your next post that sounded a little less dark already. I have had similar feelings at times. There won't be a rainbow baby for us unless a miracle happens, but we do have a living daughter. I get into the mindset sometimes that I've let her down so badly, that she deserves better than this. That she deserves a sibling that I can't give her. That she deserves a happy family, not growing up with parents that are not shattered and broken, short-fused and angry. I can't give her that, either, as hard as I try.

Now don't get me wrong. She is the most beautiful, adorable, wonderful kid I could possibly think of. I love her to bits, and I would do anything for her, and no-one and nothing is more important than her to me, including myself. I'd give my life for her without hesitating a second. I am trying to do the best I can mothering her, and now I would never, ever do anything to let her down. But at times I feel I still do. That I am reaching breaking point to be there for her and be strong for her, where I don't know how on earth I will get through this, and feel terrible for dragging her along through this. I think sometimes it would be gentler on all of us had I never had any kids in the first place, never even tried to. Then I feel so guilty for thinking that, it really is a mess.

My counselor does not find these thoughts alarming, by the way, but understandable.

Nikki,
You were brave to be honest. Some of my greatest moments of healing came after reading posts at Glow in which people were brutally honest. One day it will be less hard. I believe in you.

Nikki - I just wanted to say that I'm with Diana. I think you were brave and your post echoed many of my own thoughts. I hope that this experience won't put you off posting here at Glow. I've always appreciated this site as one where I can be honest and let fly with some of the less palatable emotions I've experienced after my daughter's death. It isn't always sunshine and flowers, motherhood in general or being the mother to a dead child in particular. Georgina's death made me a better parent in some respects, in other ways it made me a worse one. I don't believe that many things in this life are so black and white, so easy to define or untangle, a neat x led to y. I can't summarise it better than JLD has above, it is a perfect storm and it continues to rage for me, five years after the fact. But I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing? When we think of what has happened to us and our families, it isn't going to be an easy road?

Please know that you ARE doing a mighty fine job - don't doubt that. Be gentle and kind to yourself. Your love for Charlotte and for Gabe comes through in your words here and that will see you both through. In so far as babies picking up on not being enjoyed? Well, I don't know about that but I do believe that they know when they are loved. We can all only try our best, we are all clumsy and human and prone to making mistakes. But that is ok. Posts written on sites such as Glow are often reflections on the feelings of a moment, a venting of emotions that would not be understood elsewhere, not how we feel all of the time forever and ever, not set in stone.

Thank you for your good wishes on the delivery of my little girl, she arrived on Tuesday morning (partly why I have been lurking around Glow so much more as babies stir up a lot of emotions for me) safe and well. She's fabulous and now I am attempting to work out the balance between my four children. The one who is absent still needs my time too and it will take a bit of practice to get a new routine in place. . I hope that you will come back and post here again.

Katlea - I think that is a beautiful description, wanting to hold on to a little bit of the pain.

Aurelia - I had a reading from the Velveteen Rabbit at my wedding . . . Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.' . . . and I don't think I mind. Not now.

Support for Nikki is great and she deserves it just as we all do. Nonetheless, the previous anon posters were right to lovingly suggest counseling. It's not just the raw feelings re motherhood expressed but the surge of rage and anger that is spewed whenever someone here dares to challenge her (recall her unceremonious exit from the Dreamers thread or her attack on Hismommy looking for holiday ideas for her lost baby?) I'm concerned about the voices silenced because of overaggressive responses here.

Aurelia - thanks again for offering the start to the beauty and love many have shared on this thread.

With that offered, I find life to be dramatic enough - especially with our babies dying. I hope our support can be free of additional drama. We are all different, and that is OK.

Sending everyone love and peace.

I'm concerned about some of these anon posters being overaggressive and not bringing the support that we all need. Glow is not a place for "Mommy Wars". Accept everyone's differences of opinion, and I hope Glow never becomes a place where we have to censor our feelings for fear of being judged. This is NOT about being right, this is about being honest. You can express your opinion and then let go. Don't get angry if people don't agree with you. I understand that sometimes people post anon because they are afraid of being judged when they show their vulnerable side. But posting anon to pick on someone or judge someone is not OK, if you ask me.
I agree with Annie, no more drama please. More respect, more love, more understanding.

onemoreAnon - I'm really sorry if you felt my post was aggressive. It wasn't intended to be and, in offering my support to Nikki, I did not mean to imply that I felt the advice offered by other posters was incorrect or unkindly meant. Not in the slightest.

I don't know anything about the other posts you refer to as I don't generally come to Glow that frequently these days. I'm probably blundering around in the dark here, not really knowing any of the current posters and their stories that well. I felt the need to be here in recent days but perhaps it has been too long.

I would not like anybody to feel that they can't post openly and I'm truly sorry if my words have contributed to any ill feeling. I feel that this space, to discuss parenting after loss, is so important and I hope it can stay the warm, supportive place that it generally is.

I also hope my posts haven't been construed as aggressive, I feel so lucky to be able to come to glow and read the essays on the main page or the archive that talk honestly about pain and anger, even hopelessness.

I would very rarely express myself in real life as I did here by saying out loud that I want to hold on to the pain that connects me to R. It is too much for people to understand and as B said so well they often suggest counselling so they feel they can deflect the discomfort.

I tried counselling but hated it. I really wanted it to help and stuck with it for as long as I could but I eventually confessed to my GP that I just felt like I was going around in circles with a stranger and if anything made me feel worse. When people ask me about counselling I say to try it but that it didnt help me personally.

I'm from the UK so we are generally pretty reserved and maybe not so open with our feelings but I don't feel this is the place to challenge someone's feelings. I don't think it's ok to challenge someone's feelings of grief at all really. I did feel the anon posts came across as intimidating maybe the fact they are anon is part of that for me...

I come here seeking solace and understanding, I tread my own path but hugely value the knowledge that there are others walking in parallel. Sometimes our paths might cross (the same things will help us) but for many we will simply be side by side, different but making the same journey. We can still keep each other company.

Ah Katlea - I'm also British and don't counselling particularly helpful. Like you, I have used Glow as a safe place to express feelings that I could not, perhaps, express out loud.

I love what you have written about parallels. I like the feeling that I might just catch somebody out of the corner of my eye or brush their hand with my fingertips. That there are mothers and father close to me but not, necessarily, walking along exactly the same route. And why would they be?

But I would rather have briefly glimpsed company than none at all.

Thank you so much for being so honest Nikki. I lost my first born daughter at 33 weeks. She was stillborn. She was 8th pregnancy and I had no children at all. I struggled for 2 more years trying to have a baby and on my 10th pregnancy my second daughter was born......healthy and alive. The shock of finally getting to take a baby home hit me harder than I could have ever imagined. I found myself detached at times and then extremely overprotective. I was short-tempered, afraid she would stop breathing and I truly felt that enormous pressure from everyone around me that I was to be the perfect parent. But I wasn't.....I am still not. I can't possibly be perfect when I am eternally wounded......emotionally fractured and mentally broken. I still feel this way almost 7 years after my daughter's death. Some days are worse than others and I often feel the overwhelming guilt to be a better mum. I have two children now. I can't tell you how much it warms me to discover that you refer to these children as rainbow babies. Such a beautiful thought. I will try to remind myself of these words when my daughter (almost 5) pushes me to my limits or when my 2 year old son scares me half to death with his fearless adventures. It is so very hard at times and the days can seem very long and dark. I hope the sun shines down on you again Nikki. You are truly brave! You expressed many of the emotions and frustrations I experience daily. Sometimes I feel like screaming them out.....but I don't, for the fear of judgement is ever present! Your post made me feel normal! Thank you!