What does it feel like?

How do you describe what losing a baby feels like? The most excrutiating pain I have ever come to know.

This is so hard. Something I never thought I would have to experience, let alone then try to put in to words for others to understand or make sense of.

Most people reading this have lost a baby, so it seems a bit pointless to be preaching to the converted, but to me, this is what it feels like.

At about noon on Monday 18 August, 2008 someone smashed my chest open with a sledge hammer. Brute force was used. People were done being gentle with me, despite my bulging belly. It was over.

My rib cage was forced open and someone reached in and snatched my heart out. It was thrown against the wall, kicked around like a soccer ball for a while then thrown back to me with a piece of string attached to it.

It hasn't yet been put back in my chest. Instead, I use the piece of string to drag it around with me, exposed for all to see. It is sore and dirty. Little bits of gravel and dirt get stuck in it. It doesn't beat the same way as it used to. It is bruised, limp and wounded. Some parts of it will never heal.

Upon walking out of the hospital two days later empty handed, the soft winter sunshine melted all of my skin away. Now everything I come in to contact with stings. Anything that touches me burns. I am so sensitive to everything around me, all of the elements. I am so exposed. Vulnerable.

Some days my arms and legs just wont work either. I cannot move. On those days, I stay in. I leave the blinds down, I pull the covers up and I hide. If I must go out, Simon carries me around. He sweeps me up in his arms and he carries me around. I am so lucky to have him. He's being strong for the both of us.

So, nice image eh? Chest busted open, rib cage pulled apart. Damaged heart being dragged along behind me on a tattered piece of string. Husband carrying me around because my arms and legs wont work. Skinless.

To me, that's what it feels like. And really, that is probably only just the beginning. I could ramble on, but I wont. Don't even get me started with the war that is going on inside my head.

I am trying to grow back a new layer of skin. Small pieces are starting to heal over. I pick my heart up each night and I hold it and try to nurse it back to health. Simon helps with this, too. Hopefully one day soon, I'll be able to put it back in my chest where it belongs. One day down the track, it may even start to beat like it used to. Almost. I can only hope anyway.

There are always set backs though. Just when you think you are making a bit of progress. Like this week, with the realisation there wont be another August due date again next year. I did not get the prize of two pink lines this week. It hurts, it really does. Especially when you do everything right and play by all the rules again. But as I know too well, playing by the rules does not mean you will win the game.

Not to worry I guess. I am young. I can still conceive, grow and carry healthy babies to term. People keep reminding me of this. There is no great hurry. I need to let myself heal. My heart needs to mend. My layer of protective skin needs to grow back. I need to re-learn how to use my legs and arms. But it still hurts. Hope spent Christmas with me last year, I just wanted her sibling to spend Christmas with me this year.

But if the universe smiles upon us this month, and the fertility gods decide to work in my favour, Christmas Day will be when we find out if we were successful this time around. Christmas Day was already going to be bittersweet, now even moreso.

So I may still get my Christmas baby after all. But I still wont have my Hope though. And that's what hurts the most. And that is the one thing that can never, ever be fixed. Not with all the help, and hope in the world.