Three Ring Circus

Even as their birthday approaches, my head is filled with William. The wonders and the what ifs and the guilt for wanting him here and things to be different. I look at them and my whole self swells with love and pride that they are mine. Would they even be here if William had lived? I’m not sure. Very hard to admit and my heart is heavy for thinking it. I love them but with conditions.

I have re - read their birth story, ready to put on the blog in celebration of these little beings but now I’m not sure. Is it really their tale or just more of William? I don’t think I have debriefed, dealt and celebrated their birth. It all happened so quickly.

Somedays, my body, mind and soul still feels as though it is reeling from the devastation of losing a baby, let alone the whirlwind pregnancy and birth, the whole NICU experience of Ivy and Noah. The thought of it makes me feel shaky and anxious. I wonder if this is a natural response to emotions that lie in the pit of you, festering, unresolved. I can only conclude yes. I have not done this before; grieved a dead baby at term. Miscarriage, yes, even late miscarriage, the baby perfectly formed but not this. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would have had to bury my son.

Lately I have gone in search and found blogs on premature birth, confronting it almost, daring it to come to the surface so that I feel something, anything about their nine weeks in the NICU, instead of feeling numb or worse still having a panic attack - the two extremes of the stick. Instead I stumbled across Sweet/Salty and Crib Chronicles. Two women who are confronting their grief head on in beautiful, heartfelt, heartbreaking words. Words, that could have spilled from my own thoughts.

Last night I cried for a very long time. I cried for the first time in ages, for William, for Ivy and Noah, for the other children and all that they have lost, for the women who I have met, who have gone through the same devastation, for my mum, who has had to do this twice over, in a time when grieving was swept underneath that proverbial carpet and I cried because I am so barren when it comes to writing my feelings down somedays and I know, just know that journalling through this blog is some kind of therapy and that the words  I write and the words that I read will one day set me free.

Before I throw you into Ivy and Noah’s birth, I thought it would be good to give you a bit of history as to how we got to this point. To understand how I was feeling, I guess you need to know William’s story.

Read it if you like but basically;

I am a midwife.

Imogen and Madeline and Lily were all born by caesarean section.

I made a decision to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean) and researched it for a long time before deciding it was the right thing to do.

In the second stage of labour (the pushing part) my uterus ruptured, along my old scar, a little into the upper segment and down to my cervix.

William was severely compromised because of this.

Although, ultimately, it was found that William had a critcal aortic valve stenosis and some mitral valve abnormalities too, that were undiagnosed on ultrasound, his birth did not do him any favours.

Even though the cardiologist said that Will only had a 10% chance on the operating table (very small as his stenosis was severe) if everything had been perfect and he had received the surgery as soon as he was stabilised, I blame myself.

I will live with this forever.

I still believe and advocate VBAC. Statistically, only .98% of women attempting a ‘trial of scar’ will have uterine rupture. 1:200 births, whether it be after one or two caesars.

William and I were the first uterine rupture with death of a baby in 467 VBACs in our hospital.

 

I remember the day you were born. The early Autumn sun creeping through the window of the birthing room. My heart full of hope for you, eager to meet you, look into your eyes.

I remember the day you were born. The room full with love. Time marched ever onwards as we waited for you. Longed for you.

I wondered how it would be, having a son after only daughters. I worried.

Your father was excited to have a boy, anticipated his life with you.

 I was supposed to birth you, feed you, nurture you. Supposed to…

I remember the day you were born. You didn’t cry when they pulled you from my being. You were so very still as the doctors worked around you. There were people and machines and noise but for an instant, there was just you and me.

I remember the first time, days later, that you looked at me. Those big blue eyes. I swam in their deep beauty, soaked them up. I touched your hand and your fingers curled around mine. A sweet moment between us, one to hold on to.

I remember watching your body fade, the whisper of death upon you. It was calling to you but we needed to say our goodbyes.

We christened you and for one last time you opened your eyes and took us in, as if to hold us close, as you went to a better place.

I remember we kissed you and told you of our love. We told you we were honoured to have met you but we knew you had some place else to be. We told you it was okay.

I remember the doctors stripping you down, leaving you naked without your tubes and wires. Just a boy. Flesh and blood. Unable to live without them.

I remember the day you died. It was sunny but in my heart the clouds were dark. I couldn’t hold you as you took your last breath in the late afternoon of Autumn. I couldn’t hold you because I had let you down. I could not give you life. I could only give you release.

I remember the day you died, my father dressed in a pure white shirt. It seemed out of place.

I remember family and friends helping your spirit fly away, helping us to let you go.

I remember the day you died. I held onto you for the first and last time. Your body still warm and although I willed your breath to come, it did not. I looked at you, at your features, without the tape and the tubes. I drank you in, hoping never to forget the weight of you, your smell.

I remember the moment that I gave you to the nurse. The last day I would ever see you. I wanted to run after her. I wanted you back but all I could do was cry and walk away. Leaving you with strangers.

With every breath that I have left in me I will remember you. I will honour you by loving your brother and sisters, your father and your cousins. I will remember the gifts that you gave to me and I will honour them by forgiving myself.

Today, as we remember all of the babies who have not survived this life, I will remember you, my son.

For weeks Noah has noticed the photo I have of William on my tallboy. Usually he will point to it and call the baby in the picture "No - No" (the name he calls himself). I would correct him and tell him that it was his big brother William.

Yesterday he came in for his morning snuggle. He pointed to the photo again but this time he uttered… ‘that’s my Yillium’ (William). The tears started to come but before one could fall Noah spoke again… ‘brudder’ he said. I reached up and gave him the photo, which he kissed and I howled.

He will never know his big brother. They looked so much alike at birth. I think they would have been good friends.

October the 15th is Rememberence Day for all the babes who have lost their lives through miscarriage, stillbirth and neonatal death.

Every year we are invited to go to the hospital, where William took his last breath, for a memorial service. It seems,like last year, that I cannot bring myself to go but I will never forget those five precious days that we were able to share with him. Five days of memories that have to last a lifetime.

When I was working,there was stress. Worry about how we would find babysitting, stress with working night duty and then staying awake all day to look after the babies, worry about how David could juggle his responsibilities at work and at home but there was no worry about money. Ever. If we wanted something we would get it. If we needed to go food shopping, consider it done.

It was just too much for me though, when everyone was sick all winter. I had a kind of mini mental breakdown, I guess. I just didn’t want to do anything. Except blog. Except to put it out there into a forgiving, guilt free universe.

I wanted William, I wanted what should have been. I wanted a beautiful birth, a  live baby. I wanted the nightmares, the insomnia to stop. I wanted normalcy.

Ok, so I also knew that I couldn’t change anything. Nothing is ever going to bring Will back. Nothing. So realistically, I guess I wanted to be able to enjoy my family again. I was scared that I would never feel that warm contentment with my children anymore. Especially with Ivy and Noah.

I would cry alot. Torn between what I wanted, needed almost, to bringing in an income and helping out with money (and in turn, decreasing David’s stress). 

David has always been there for me. When my brother died, he was there. He pulled me up out of depression and made sure I went on to become a nurse. When I wanted to do midwifery, he supported me all the way but when it came to money, I always felt that subtle pressure, that expectation. So when he said it was ok for me to stay at home, I felt bad. Guilty bad. It really didn’t matter how he put it, how he felt my staying at home would benefit him, ease the pressure at work, I still felt that I needed to work. Until the first bout of croup gave me little choice but to resign.

So, for the last four months I have been at home. I have been seeing some people and taking some medicine. I have started to feel better, about the role I played in William’s death, about my family and how important they are to me, about my relationship with Ivy and Noah and for a large part, I have let go of the guilt of not working. I see the importance of being at home and I am loving it.

Until today.

This morning was the first time in a long while that I have felt that pressure to go to work, that old guilty bad creeping in.

Ivy and Noah’s birthday is coming and then it’s Christmas.

I love Christmas but I don’t. I love to see the kids’ faces early on Christmas day. I love the joy that they get from the things they really want, being under the tree. I don’t like the cost, the stress of balancing things out so everyone gets the same.

I know the next few weeks will be a juggling act of needs and wants. David knows it too. This morning he is stressed. About money. About juggling in an off pay week. I know that if I were working, there wouldn’t be a week where we would have to stretch the budget to breaking point.

What do I do? Should I go back to work? What would you do?

Would I just be walking straight back into the same old worries and be just as stressed, if not more so?

Am I ready to be the stress juggler again?

How very softly you tiptoed into my world.

Almost silently.

Only a moment you stayed,

but what an imprint your tiny footprints

have left upon my heart…

 

For Charlotte and her beautiful Mummy.

Happy 3rd birthday, sweetheart. Hope you are dancing with all the other angel babies today.

There has been a thread on Belly Belly about songs that truly touch you. For me, music has always been connected to events of my life…there is a song for everything.

This song, Nickelback’s Far Away, for various reasons, touches me. I was just thinking about it last night on the way home from the scrapbooking class and oddly just before I hit the last bend towards home, it came on. Has that ever happened to you? You think it and it happens?

Anyway, I sat in the car and listened to it, beautiful, haunting, melancholy that it is and thought of William.

This time, This place
Misused, Mistakes
Too long

too late
Who was I to make you wait
Just one chance
Just one breath
Just in case there’s just one left
‘Cause you know, you know, you know

I love you
I’ve loved you all along
I miss you
Been far away for far too long
I keep dreaming you’ll be with me
and you’ll never go
Stop breathing if
I don’t see you anymore

On my knees, I’ll ask
Last chance for one last dance
‘Cause with you, I’d withstand
All of Hell to hold your hand
I’d give it all
I’d give for us
Give anything, but I won’t give up
‘Cause you know, you know, you know

That I love you
I loved you all along
And I miss you
Been far away for far too long
I keep dreaming you’ll be with me
and you’d never go
Stop breathing if
I don’t see you anymore

So far away
So far away
far away for far too long
So far away
So far away
far away for far too long

But you know, you know, you know
I wanted
I wanted you to stay
‘Cause I needed
I need to hear you say
I love you
I loved you all along
And I forgive you
For being away for far too long
So keep breathing
‘Cause I’m not leaving you anymore
Believe it
Hold on to me,and never let me go
Keep breathing
‘Cause I’m not leaving you anymore
Believe it
hold on to me never let me go

Keep breathing
hold on to me, never let me go
Keep breathing
hold on to me, never let me go

Today we had Lily’s party. Her friends were well behaved, well mannered and lovely. Her party was completely opposite to Imogen and Madeline’s a fortnight ago.  It was a joy to have these girls in our home.The time went so quickly and I felt relaxed and happy. Lily had an absolute ball!

Twelve months ago my beautiful friend Trish was in hospital, waiting for her twin boys to be born. Everyone in this household was on tenderhooks, waiting for the message that Sam and Joel had arrived safely.

I met Trish through Belly Belly when I was looking for information on trying to conceive after losing a baby. We joined at almost the same time. There were a few of us. Bec, who had lost her daughter, Georgia, Kirsty, whose son Alex had died, Sarah and her angel Lachlan, Trish with her gorgeous Charlotte and me. We were all on the same journey at around the same time.

Trish and I became friends. When I found out she was pregnant, I cried my eyes out. When I discovered she was having twins I cried even harder. I was so happy for her.

Over the three years I have known her Trish has been there for me through everything. Through the grief of losing WIlliam, to the discovery that I was pregnant. Even though she was waiting to conceive, and her heart must have been aching for her Charlotte and wishing fro that elusive positive pregnancy test, she lifted my spirits as I worried myself senseless over Ivy and Noah’s pregnancy. She celebrated their birth and she has been there through every anniversary for Will, every scary moment with the babies, every happy and sad moment. She has been a true friend, so tonight on the eve of her babies’ first birthday I want to celebrate her!

Congratulations Trish! Hoping you have the happiest of birthing days and that tomorrow is filled with happiness, fond memories of Samuel and Joel’s birth and of new memories made.

Thank you for being the person that you are. You are an amazing woman and I am a better person for having met you. I wish you every happiness and dream come true!

Yesterday was the anniversary of my brother’s death. 15 years since he died. I wonder what he would be like now. Whether we would have any kind of relationship. I wonder what my Mum did for the day, she usually cleans.

Today it has been raining. Sometimes hard and sometimes just drizzling. It kind of compliments the day that it is. William’s angel day. The day, three years ago, that we let William go. There were so many highs and lows of the five days surrounding his birth and death. The lowest was having to turn off the ventilator. His death, although terrible, was beautiful as well. We were in the courtyard just outside of the NICU ward at Westmead. The sun was out but it wasn’t too hot. All of our family were there and some of our friends. If a life had to be lost, it was the nicest way to lose it.

We have come so far in three years. So much has happened. I look at my family now and I think I can let myself feel ok today. I woke up angry. As seems to be my trait on William’s angel day but it soon left me and I did feel a kind of peacefulness that I haven’t had for the last two anniversaries. Maybe it was the break in the weather. Maybe it was all the kids looking towards the sky, hopeful that their brother and cousin was looking down on them, I’m not sure but as we released our balloons to the heavens, the sun peaking through the dark clouds, I felt okay. Not happy but not sad or angry or confused but present. Definately there, in the moment.

We let the balloons go and watched them for as long as we could see them. They floated really high this year. They soared!

David’s Mum came up to be with us and Dave cooked his famous fried rice and we ate all our favourite foods. More chocolate eggs and ice cream (good depression busting food).

The kids are all watching a DVD now and Dave and I are just veging. Ivy and Noah are roaming around the lounge room, occasionally turning the DVD off. We’re all a bit tired, I think but it’s nice to be together for a change.

 

To quote the Dixie Chicks;

Godspeed, little man,

Sweet dreams, little man.

Oh, my love will fly

To you each night

On angels wings.

Godspeed, Sweet Dreams.

 

Oh William. I miss you.

Happy Birthday William David Tregenza.

May you be swaddled in angel hugs and bathed in butterfly kisses.

Know that we love you and miss you every single day. There is an empty space in our hearts without you here.

My babies are growing up too fast. Ivy is now walking all over the loungeroom and can even corner now. All that in just a few days. Soon they’ll both be running. Noah is taking up to eight steps before he flings himself into whoever’s lap is convenient.

This morning we made a decision as to what we are going to do for William’s third birthday and my mind and my heart finds itself thinking more and more of my little boy and what will never be. Sometimes the feelings surrounding his birth and death are all still so raw, it is like it was yesterday. The tears always fall easily around this time but this year, has been particularly emotional. Last year was so busy with two newborn babies and the first year, I was ‘allowed’ to celebrate and grieve my son. This year, many want to forget, think I should be ‘over’ him, think I should just concentrate on Ivy and Noah and feel lucky to be given another chance. I am. I will be eternally grateful for all that I have been given. Especially the chance to watch Ivy and Noah grow up. All my children are miracles. None of them easy to conceive , to carry or to birth. Even with this knowledge, even being thankful for all that I have doesn’t take that emptiness away, that hole that is left where William should be. It is a feeling of being incomplete, in some way. David doesn’t talk about WIlliam much anymore. I know he is dealing with things in his own way but sometimes I am hurt that he doesn’t acknowledge his firstborn son. All the girls and AJ accept William and talk about him freely. I have noticed an escalation in their comments and questions about him lately and wonder if they realise they are doing it or if it is a subconcious thing because it is getting close to the 2nd of April.

We’ll do a balloon release again this year, as we always do on his angel day but for his birthday, which I think should be a celebration of the amazing baby boy that William was, we are going to go to the zoo. I think at three, William would have enjoyed the zoo and the girls agree. Because we live a long way from Sydney we’ll have to start the day early but it should be a lovely day. It feels better now, knowing what we are going to do.

I just needed to get all of that down this morning. There might be more later. Who knows what the day might bring?