Horror where happiness was supposed to live

I know it is almost Christmas, literally only a few hours away on this side of the world, and that I should be reflecting and thinking about my daughter and the wonderful 40 weeks we spent together, but I can't get the horror film that plays on a constant loop inside my head to stop.

Not for one second.

For four months, over and over, all I have done is relive this horror.

I think a stillbirth is just about the ultimate horror. Pretty much the worst thing that can happen to a woman; a mother.

It is just so brutal. So over. So final. So complete. Nothing to be done. No one can help. No magical cures. No miracles. It is just.....the end.....before it ever starts. I'm not quite sure there is anything sadder than this.

I had never seen a dead body, now I've give birth to one. Even if I reach some level of healing from this, how am I ever going to get those frightful images out of my head?

My daughter was absolutely beautiful, but she was also so very dead. She had been dead inside me for more than 24 hours before I birthed her. I know how much she changed in that time.

I have some regrets that while we spent almost 24 hours with her after she was born, we didn't unwrap her to take in much of her features after her bath. For example, I only saw her feet once, and have only one very bad photo of them. We kept her so tightly bundled, as she was so fragile by this stage, with her delicate skin beginning to peel in more areas. These are things that mothers and fathers with only living children really do not want to know.

While I am just aching to be pregnant and do this all again, I can only imagine the emotions that are going to stir inside me through a subsequent pregnancy and birth and just how aware I'm really going to become when another baby is HOPEFULLY born alive. I think the horror will become even more real then. As dead babies are all I know now. You get pregnant, you carry them, you birth them and you bury them. The end. I need a serious reality check. I think this is why I still read the birth notices. Every single day. I need reassurance most babies make it out alive.

We had our big meeting at the hospital today and it just reaffirmed what I already knew - we were so drastically let down and that Hope's death could have been so easily prevented if those supposedly taking care of me had just shown a bit more compassion and erred on the side of caution. No one is denying that. The new guidelines that we asked to be drafted are now in progress and should be in play early next year. This is a good result. My obstetrician even spoke of it as Hope's legacy. Thanks, I guess?

But that does not bring my Hope back. This does not cure me. This does not fill the gaping hole in my heart. This helps other mothers and possibly saves other babies, but it does not bring my baby back. I'm sorry to be so selfish, but I'd rather this had happened to any other baby other than mine. For someone else to have learnt these lessons and not me.

The hospital, as a result of our discussions and my constant pestering, have also agreed to change their ante natal teachings, both check ups and classes, to include more about stillbirths, and shall we say, adverse pregnancy outcomes.

This does not need to be alarming or scare people unnecessarily, but rather give women the information to store away in the back of their minds. If I'd known what I know now, Hope would most certainly be here. I know hindsight is of no use, but I want others to know what I know now, which may mean keeping their precious babies alive. I fully believe this is possible.

Simon and I cooked up a storm today, to leave us as much spare time tomorrow on Christmas as possible. Of course, we want time in the morning as we want to visit the cemetery.

I'm not sure if "want" is the word, but we really feel we should. Not for one second do I want to be the parent who has to visit her child at the cemetery, buried a long way down, but we owe it to her on this merry day to pay her a visit.

I have bought a bunch of Singapore orchids, which I carried on my wedding day, to place on her grave plaque. The plaque has been there for weeks now, but we have not had the courage to visit. So it will be nice to finally see it.

I'm not sure what is right or wrong in our new hellish situation or how much we should visit but we are just doing what our hearts say for the time being. And they say to visit on the big holidays, and whenever else we feel like it, even if it is complete spur of the moment. I sort of envisage myself visiting a bit when I'm pregnant again. To talk to Hope and let her know I'm not moving on by having another baby and that I still love her and miss her like crazy. I also have images in my head of taking another baby there to "meet" her in the future. I can't see much of my future, but this image is stuck in my head. Simon, the dog and me cradling a baby, all popping in to say hello.

I got a text from a friend today to say she had been to visit with her little boy and her parents. She asked if we minded. Of course I didn't, rather, I was touched. She said she left Hope a present. I'm so lucky to have friends like these in my lives, who can take time out of their busy Christmas eves to visit my darling daughter at her final resting place. I'd like to think I would have done the same thing for my friends if the situation had been reversed. That's the thing, I'll never really know as my whole life has been tainted by this experience now. I only know what I know now. I don't really know what I might have done or how I might have reacted. I like to think this disaster has given me that extra touch of compassion though.

I know the horror of losing Hope will never really go away, but I'm hoping at some stage in my life, it does not sting quite as much. Even if that time only comes when I'm an old lady on my death bed.

I just want to feel some happiness alongside the horror. Especially tomorrow at Christmas, if that is at all possible.