Six ~ Wednesday

Time will never erase the memories of her brief life. Days turn to weeks, weeks to [six] years. I remember as if it were yesterday, the details become a little blurrier but She is not forgotten.

So what happened on Tuesday... the day after I was sent home by the OB , all hope gone , to be induced the next morning on Tuesday 31st August.
I told you it was worst night ever ... my pregnant belly was no longer a safe harbour for my baby but a coffin.
I had to find a name and that I did.
Charlotte Rose.
I went into Hospital at 8am to be induced only to be 'growled' at by the ward clerk about why I was there ...she wasn't expecting us .
"We're here to have our {dead} baby"...
"Oh the [stupid] Ob didn't tell us to go to delivery suite"{across the hall}.

What could I say 6 years on about that day I went to the hospital to have my dead baby torn from my womb by my pitiful body ?

The day I felt so despicable a mother.

The day loss opened up a chasm in me that I thought I would never climb out of ...

The day other mothers and fathers whom nature smiled upon welcomed their own babies in the next room as it should be ...

The day I couldn't set foot outside the delivery suite room but my DH had too. He had to talk to people and smile ...

The day spent talking about preparing funerals and grief as we trembled and tried to find strength in each other.

The day the OB told they would give me 'everything' so I wouldn't feel pain but he LIED ! Nothing can take away the excruciating pain of losing a child.

The day I scarcely knew what to think or feel or to expect.

Labouring to bring forth your dead baby into the world has got to be one of the sh*ttiest jobs on earth.

So here we are today ... six trips around the sun to bring us back to a Wednesday.
After 5 lots of vag.inal gel our daughter was born 19hrs later Wednesday 1st September 2004 @4.20am.
It was the most heart wrenching experience of my life.

It's not quite a happy birthday but still it's remembering her BIRTH'day.

Still I remember how robbed I felt after waiting 12 years for this precious baby.
My firstborn. As I said the tears they roll less often ...much less.
It doesn't mean I don't remember.
I wake every year on this day in the early hours.
Remembering.
I do [remember] most days but nothing profound and as melancholy as it sounds.
Today, I woke sardined in, not so cosily, comforted by the presence of my little boys, who alternately cuddle , whack me with stray limbs or press into me .
I gave thanks.

Charlotte is & was a precious gift ...some people only dream of Angels we cradled one and carry one in our hearts always.

May we never let the things we can't have, or don't have, or shouldn't have, spoil our enjoyment of the things we do have and can have.

The boys are my happy place and their laughter is music to a mother's broken heart.
A new day has dawned, shadows are lengthening into light, the sky is starting to beam pink, a gleaming smile.
The friendly warmth of Spring is here (I hope) and new expectations of a purposeful day in our garden.
I want to clarify ... I don't write to gain sympathy but to share my feelings and perhaps comfort another walking a similar path. There are thousands (&thousands) of dead baby mothers like me. Honestly I say , there is no honour in garnering false sympathy.
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