Every year on 15th October at 7pm I light a candle in memory of Meggie, our other babies conceived and lost through the IVF process, together with all the other children known to us who have also grown their angel wings – too many to name individually, but each one precious, irreplaceable and so very loved and missed.
October is Baby Loss Awareness Month and this is an important opportunity to acknowledge the impact that pregnancy and infant loss has on the families who are left behind to grieve. It can also be a special time to touch base with your loved ones and let them know you still remember their little babies…
I think the greatest myth, when it comes to grief, is that time heals all things. It does not. Grief is a process that we have to work our way through. We have to engage ourselves in that process, expressing our grief in a way that is natural and congruent to how we feel. This is, I believe, where the healing process begins – where we learn to honour our loss, create meaning out of it and embrace what life has yet to offer.
At some point or other, grief will be a part of our life experience. None of us are exempt from experiencing loss and the feelings of grief that will naturally follow. How we grieve is individual. We can’t ignore it or run away from it. We grieve because we first loved. Grief is an expression of our love. Allow it. Honour it. Understand it. And seek to create meaning out of it.
Lately I have been reminded of what a precious gift life is. Last weekend we farewelled a much-loved member of our family. Ginj joined our household as a tiny, mischievous and very endearing eight-week-old kitten. He grew up with our boys and was their affectionate, faithful and constant companion through the years.
I would find it hard to describe Ginj in just one word. He was quirky. He didn’t care that litterboxes aren’t for sleeping in. His covered litterbox on the back deck was the perfect safe haven for an afternoon snooze. He was a fierce hunter. His gift of a live red-belly black snake triggered enough adrenaline to last us a week! We were also gifted with the occasional mouse.
He was friendly to the nth degree. The neighbourhood children knew him well and would look forward to his little visits. He used to keep an eye out for one of the local dogs on their daily walk, where a rough and tumble on the grass together became their daily ritual. He also enjoyed our morning walks to and from school, sometimes parting ways with me on the way home to go on his own little adventure.
He loved the smell of strong coffee, he was a cat of exceptionally good taste after all. He also was a master of self-discipline, taking the concept of yoga and putting his own personal stamp on it in the form of Relaxercise; That is, the art of holding a leg stretch – like REALLY holding the stretch – whilst in a complete state of deep relaxation. He had also mastered the art of removing (and hiding) every collar we attempted to put on him.
But I think by far his most favourite thing to do was to snuggle up in bed at the end of the day with either of our sons. That and having a human escort to his feed bowl (several times a day) so that we could tell him what a good boy he was.
He also had a sixth sense. I recall one morning when we were getting ready for school, some 10 years ago, Ginj was running across the loungeroom and throwing himself against the wall, running back to the lounge and back again to throw himself against the wall. He did this several times and we thought he was just being frisky, which often happened on really windy days. Some 14 hours after his frenzied behaviour, however, our youngest son had a massive tonic clonic seizure. In the early hours of the following morning in the hospital emergency ward, as we recounted this story to the nurses, it dawned on us all that Ginj had sensed that something was up and he was trying to warn us. From that time forward we always knew, if he was frisky to the extreme like that again, then to close pay attention.
On his final day with us in the physical sense, unable to steady himself on his feet, I carried him from his litterbox in the laundry to his favourite spot on the lounge. I cradled him in my arms and he rested his head against my neck. As his body moulded into the shape of mine, for a fleeting moment, he gave me the memory of holding my newborn babies once again.
We had 16 years of this little angel in a fur-coat living amongst us. In a matter of weeks, his health declined and our vet diagnosed him with stage III kidney disease. We didn’t know how long he would last and what quality of life he would have as the disease progressed. He lived and died knowing how very loved he is and will always be. And now, our twin daughter Meggie has a new heavenly companion by her side.
I hope that in some small way my words today have resonated with you… Always remember that life is precious and love is forever.
Did you know that the first Sunday of May – the week before the traditional Mother’s Day – is the International Bereaved Mother’s Day? This beautiful initiative was established in 2010 as a way of recognising the grief of women who have had a child die or who have been unable to realise their dream of becoming a mother. It is a special opportunity for women to honour the children who are no longer in their arms, and to honour themselves as the mother of that child. It is a day where they can acknowledge their loss and reflect on their journey of grief through the years.
A friend and I recently had an interesting conversation about the long and complicated process of IVF. We talked about how even the loss of a blastocyst – the fertilised egg in it’s pre-embryonic state – can be a devastating and emotional loss when a couple is going through IVF. Having walked in those shoes myself many years ago, I know so much emotion and hope is invested in the process of conceiving through IVF and of how devastating it is when those blastocysts succumb during the five days leading up to transfer. They may just be eggs, however, for a couple dearly wanting to start their family – to welcome a child into their lives – those eggs are their hope for the future. You only have to look in the mirror to see the potential held in each of those little babies lost along the way.
In my book, From One Twin Mum To Another, I talk about how “a loss is a loss is a loss” and that the stage of pregnancy when the baby died isn’t relevant. What is relevant is that this baby, no matter how early, no matter how small, meant the world to the grieving parents. When a couple receives the exciting news that they are pregnant, they start to build their emotional bond with their unborn baby, and the strength of that bond grows as the pregnancy progresses. Their baby becomes an important part of their future. And when their baby dies, their deep sense of loss is profound.
I have realised through the years that twin loss is a less-known and understood area of pregnancy loss and it can be a silent grief. That’s what I love about the concept of International Bereaved Mother’s Day. It provides an opportunity to say your baby’s name out loud, to acknowledge him/her as your son/daughter… to do something special in his/her memory… to do something that helps maintain your emotional connection with him/her… something that makes your heart feel glad (even through the sadness).
It is also an opportunity to reflect on how you might want to approach the more traditional Mother’s day next week. As a grieving parent, I have learnt that those family-oriented days require us to be self-aware so that we can approach those days with our self-care as a priority.
Nobody knows you, your grief and your needs in quite the way that you do, so it makes perfect sense to apply good self-care and keep things as manageable as possible. I think any grieving person will find that some days of the year are just harder to get through (and they are as equally hard to avoid). Again, in my book I look at self-care in the following four categories:
MENTAL WELL-BEING
• Factor in some me-time for yourself every day and while you are at it, do more of the things that bring you joy!
• Know what helps you get through the tough days (and also be mindful of what isn’t helpful).
• For those days that you find just that little bit harder, consider what will help you maintain a sense of equilibrium. You may want to give yourself some time and space to allow some moments of grief, just as much as enjoying other moments. Give yourself permission to do both.
PHYSICAL WELL-BEING
• As much as you are able, take good care of yourself – I am sure you will know what your needs are.
• As often as you can, factor in some fresh air and sunshine (and at the same time, some serotonin, which is also good for our mental well-being).
SOCIAL NEEDS
• As lovely as it is to spend time with others, do you need to balance that with some me-time?
• Do the expectations that others have of you align with your own expectations of yourself?
• Know who, in your wider circles, helps provide you with emotional safety.
SPIRITUAL CONNECTION
• Your grief is an important part of your emotional connection with your loved one who has died. There is beauty in your love and grief – allow it and honour it.
• Do something to nurture that ongoing emotional connection – something that is of personal meaning to you – that brings you some peace and makes you smile (albeit through the tears) when you think of your loved one.
At these family-oriented times, whatever it is that helps keep it all manageable for you – that’s what you need to do. Make yourself a priority so that the way you approach those harder days will feel much more congruent with who you are, of your grief and of meeting your own needs.
I hope that, in some small way, my words today have resonated with you.
