Fuck. Today as I'm putting my just-turned-four-year old daughter into her car seat she said eagerly and out of the blue "mama, don't cry. I'll make good choices, I promise". I almost burst into tears at the thought of my dear daughter, living her life in fear that her mother will burst into tears. Bitter irony much? Such a shitty situation.

Max died almost 5 months ago. To say that I've been a shell of the parent that I once was to E is an understatement. I don't know how to describe it, and this might sound really awful, but besides the lack of patience, energy, and focus, I actually began to become irritated with her. My living child. The one who didn't die. I'd become irritated with the smallest of things. Yell at least once a day. Bark orders. The list could go on but it's too painful for me to write it.

A month ago I decided that I had to stop yelling and barking. I practiced taking a deep breath and reminding myself that she's suffering too. So when I got irritated enough to yell I took a deep breath, smiled at her, and gently reminded her to "make good choices". Most times it has worked. Life goes on as normal and to the outside world we look like a well-functioning family unit. But 10% of the time the overwhelming grief just knocks me over. My lip starts to quiver and I actually start sobbing. Because my daughter wouldn't put the garbage down, she tells me "no", etc. You get the idea.

Before I the carseat situation today I was actually in a semi-light mood. What the hell have I put this poor kid through that she has such sad thoughts about her mother crying?

Baby loss sucks.

All, please know that 101% of the day I am in complete awe of how lucky I am to have this precious, magical creature in my life. I crave her snuggles. I tickle her to the point of exhaustion. But I can't deny that I'm grieving and it permeates through my pores. I feel Glow is a safe place to share the horrible juxtaposition of emotions in parenting a living child through grief. Thanks for listening...

Crap, that supposed to say 100 %. As in all the time I'm in awe of her. Today she saw a butterfly and told me it might be Max. She's amazing...

Carole - babyloss does suck. After ethan died I set unreasonable expectations upon myself to be the perfect parent. It's just absurd though, nobody is perfect, and then add such stress to the scenario.

Be patient with yourself. You sound like a wonderful mother, managing an impossible situation. This time last year I remember feeling the exact same things. I think I even posted about it on this parenting page.

Hang in mama.

Carole, I think I know what you mean about being irritated. I found it so hard sometime to be around my elder daughter after her sister died. I wanted to be by myself to grieve and her constant neediness took so much time away from that grief. I know that that sounds awful to a lot of people, but it was how I felt. I never got to stay in bed and cry all morning. I never got to lock myself in the bathroom and scream and throw myself on the floor. I never got to sit in a quiet room with just my thoughts. I love my daughter with everything I've got and I am eternally grateful she is here - but being a bereaved parent is so fucking hard. And hard to complain about because hey, we've got what so many other babylost parents want: a living child. But we're not perfect - no parent is - I think so many of us have unreasonable expectations (like Annie said) of ourselves - and I think the world has them for us, too - what is it about having a dead baby that is supposed to turn us into such saintly creatures?? Anyway - I've ranted on here a few times now about this stuff and really, I just want to say that I really, really, really get what you are saying. You are definitely not alone.

I completely get it. I often remark to people that my dh and I watched our son die then came home to make lunch for our 4 daughters. And I'm supposed to be grateful for that. I had to divide the tiny life he had up in to being with him and being away from him to keep them functioning. I had to make choices about him to preserve them. I had to lock myself in my bathroom and cry for him with a towel pressed to my face to muffle the sound. I spent the first night without him not sobbing in my husbands arms but in a bed with 2 of them, comforting them. I know many babylost parents would do anything, they think, for that but in fact they didn't mitigate my loss at all. I had to be grateful. I had to be sane. I had to function. I had to move on, love, recover. I think there are huge pieces of me I have not been able to let recover because I have not had time for that grief. I was too busy with their grief and their process and being okay for them. I've forgotten pieces of Freddie because of them. And I had to put up with people telling me to be grateful for what I had, not least other grieving parents envious of me for having living children. I was envious of their peace and space. But I wasn't allowed to say so.

Yes, Merry. Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes to every single thing you wrote: thank you.

Thank you merry. You spelled out what I always wanted to, never dared to, because like you said, I felt I wasn't allowed to. And yes to the muffled sobbing in the bathroom, with a three year old banging at the door, shouting at you to come out and play. Which you do, moments later, puffy eyed. Then you find yourself, with a forced smile on your face, dressing a baby doll that is the same size as your dead baby, because that is what you do as a mother of a living little girl. So hard.

Words can't express my gratitude to each of you for reaching out. I have read through older posts and have seen many of your names previously, which makes me even more awestruck that you will do so again.

Thank you thank you thank you for sharing honestly about how the need for alone time is another complexity. I could have also written about sitting in the bathroom, sobbing into a towel, responding to banging on the door only to have to play dress-up with a doll Max's size. And then E pretends the doll is dead and we have to take pictures so we can remember later. So I "play" this horrible scenario because I know it's a healthy way for my daughter to process her grief. But it's fucking icy stabs to my heart.

In the past few weeks I have seriously questioned the idea of TTC. If I'm having this much trouble parenting E why would I consider having a "rainbow" if we should even be so lucky? I know it might help to give it some time, but given my early-forties-age time is not an option. I understand if you don't feel comfortable responding to this, and I feel awkward asking this personal question of you, but if you have had a rainbow baby did you experience the same level of parenting difficulty or did time help? Again, if you don't feel comfortable responding please forgive my intrusiveness.

Thank you again. Your empathy is heartfelt and needed. I do feel it's a taboo in the babyloss community to talk openly about this. I often say that although losing Max is the hardest thing I've ever gone through - parenting E through my grief is second.

Peaceful thoughts to all of us mamas...

All your words sum up perfectly how it feels to parent a living child while grieving. Angie Yingst wrote a wonderful piece in the book, "They Were Still Born," called "Mothering Grief." She writes so beautifully about mothering her 2-year old daughter after the stillbirth of her daughter, Lucia. IF you can find it, I definitely recommend reading it. Angie has also written for Glow and you can read her past blogs too on the topic.

Hello Carole, I turned to Glow tonight (3a.m) in despair about the same topic you write about. My only living child, just a few months old now is sleeping soundly in the next room while I have been sat here on the sofa all night sobbing my eyes out for his twin sisters that I lost almost two years ago now. Grief is such a hard thing and really messes up the mind but I'm sure you are doing your best, just as you would with another baby.

Before I had my son, like you I questioned my reasoning for even considering TTC again. I felt so messed up I thought surely I could never be a good mum. I love him to bits, I know I'll do anything physically possible for him. Caring for him with all it's demands is the easy bit, I even welcome the distraction. Managing my complex emotions, some of which he generates is the challenge. One minute I'm looking at him in awe, next I'm completely breaking down that he's crossed a milestone that I'll never see his sisters cross.

Check, check, check lack of patience, energy or focus, irritability etc. Those who romantically like to say these situations bring out the best in one missed me off their stats. Sometimes I struggle to recognise the angry, frustrated person I've become. My GP doesn't think it's PND but grief. I know it's grief and can see how that impatience can be inadvertently directed to other children or anyone at all. Perhaps because of his age, looking so helpless and clinging to me so vulnerably it's impossible for me to direct that at him. I'd say the only part of my brain currently properly organised and fairly calm is the part that deals with his care. But the other nearest person to me, his dad sadly gets the full whack of my impatience and more just like you describe. I feel awful about that because he is also grieving.

My guilty feelings towards my son are mostly about how much time I spend thinking about his sisters when I'm caring for him. I hear lots of mums say they feel guilty about having little time to grieve their dead babies when caring for living ones and I feel ten times worse about the significant amount of time I find to pine for my girls inspite of this bundle of joy that I love and appreciate so much. Might be because he's not at the age yet to be demanding enough to actively interrupt my thoughts like he might if he was running around or verbally demanding things. Worse there are things I just won't do with him because they trigger pangs of grief. I won't have casts of his hands and feet because I didn't have them done for his sisters. We have hundreds of photos of him but it's taken 7months for me to be able to put his photos on our walls and only because I got something for his sisters to put up alongside.

We know but I think need to accept that normal challenges of parenting are compounded after child loss. We are not bad parents, just normal human beings trying to do our best under shi**y circumstances. Hopefully our living children will understand as adults that our grief is a reflection of how much each of our babies mean to us and that we haven't placed on them the impossible task of compensating for our lost ones.

Sending you peaceful thoughts.

Hi Carole. I understand all you have expressed. I have felt like a horrible mother on many days since I lost my son. He was 6 months old and died of SIDS. My daughter was 3.5 at the time. I also never got that "alone" time to grieve. I had to function, help her process her own grief which often exacerbated my own. As much as her existence has helped me to survive my loss, she also drives me insane w her neediness at times!!!
Just because we have lost a baby does not mean all those annoying things about having living children go away. Yes, we LOVE and adore and SO appreciate having them. But it's still hard.
So to your question regarding parenting a rainbow after loss w an older child...well that is my life now. Whitney is 5. Addison is 5 mos. (And not a good sleeper). Adding sleep deprivation to the mix is rough for sure. But I want to tell you-you CAN do it. A rainbow brings healing but also a surge of emotions. As far as the irritability goes, I have totally lost it a few times. My husband brings me back to Earth and I do it all again the next day. I miss my boy SO much it hurts, but this rainbow has helped me to survive-and honestly I feel like it has helped our older daughter so much to have another baby to love. I'm also an older Mama. If I can do it-you can too. Sorry for the ramble and I don't know if this helps. Just know I understand. This a such a hard journey. Thinking of you tonight

Thanks to everyone who contributed to this post, it really helps seeing your own challenges, struggle and emotions presented and realise you are no better or worse than any other baby loss mother and some expectations are not realistic at all.

Hello, all, I just wanted to update that my daughter and I are in a much better place. After 4 months I finally realized that my hormones are extremely out of whack for almost 10 days a month. I'm calling bullshit again on you, Mother Nature. You take my baby AND you give me 10 days of instability??? However, now that I can predict those days I surround myself with support from friends & family to help with E.

Also, my daughter and I took a much-needed, relaxing road trip to Northern New Mexico. We travel well together and it was good for us to be in nature hiking, playing, and relaxing. We found all kinds of things that reminded us of Max and every night we looked for the brightest star in the sky to represent him. It was magical, reparative, and restoring. I felt badly that my husband didn't get to share in that trip but it actually worked better for the mother-daughter relationship. I guess I owe an "ok, thanks" to the universe for how that worked out.

Nadia, Tee, Julie, and Lucy, thanks so much for adding to this post. Nadia, thank you for the reminder about Angie's writings. I read them right after Max died but everything from that time is such a haze it will be good to go back and re-read. Julie, thank you for sharing so honestly and openly about your rainbow. I didn't think you rambled at all; every word was like a salve and brought comfort. Tee, I giggled how you described that your husband gets the "full whack of your impatience"- it's a great way to put it. I started shifting my impatience towards my husband with the thought that yes, while he's also grieving he can probably handle it better than a 4 year old. Theoretically at least he should be able to handle it :) It has helped tremendously.

To other babyloss moms who might be reading this and find yourself in the same situation, please take comfort from the words of all of these amazing women. Parenting a living child through grief is so hard with the mixed emotions, feelings of guilt, pressures from others, and just lack of energy. Reach out if you need to whether it be here at Glow or elsewhere. Much love and peace to all of us and all of our babies...