Familiar

She had a particular look on her face and a familiar quaver to her voice. There she was on a new trashy reality TV show starting on our screens here in Australia tonight. Sadly, trashy TV shows have always been a weakness of mine, and lately, even more so as I try and find brief moments to escape out of my new world of pain.

This particular show, is the one about weight loss. Where miserable overweight people give their lives over to two overbearing trainers in the hope of coming out of it a few months later a shadow of their former selves, brimming with a new found confidence that only a "skinny" person could have.

A rather large blonde girl, 23, hopped up on the scales. The host prompted her as to why she'd made the decision to come on the show, and perhaps what had caused the life threatening weight gain.

Tears welled in her eyes, she paused and her voice was trembling.

"I lost my second child to stillbirth at full term."

I called for Simon to come in right away from the barbecue outside where he was cooking our salmon steaks for dinner.

"Baby look, this girl had a stillborn baby," tears now welling in my eyes and a rather familiar lump forming in my throat.

There she was, suffering, overweight, miserable and desperately sad over the loss of her precious and longed for child. And she was on national TV in prime time and will be for at least the next few months. Suddenly, part of our nation may get an insight in to what it is like to be me.

So many of us suffer in silence. Going from the centre of attention as we field daily calls asking "is the baby here yet??" then banished to outer reaches of society because people simply do not know what to say in the face of such unimaginable and overwhelming grief. So they leave us alone, worried they will say the wrong thing and upset us, not realising it is impossible to upset us anymore. There is no way we can hurt any more. The loss of a child is the ultimate pain. A mother's greatest sorrow. Saying nothing just isolates us more.

I hope this girl gets a chance to speak of her deep loss as she progresses through this show. I can only hope she hangs around for a while and does not get booted off in the first week. I hope people I know can look at her and get a brief glimpse in to my life now. I hope the rest of Australia can watch on and learn that nine months does not always end in happily ever after. I hope it makes some people stand up and take notice. I want to be noticed again.

This is just one small chance to put our losses to the front of peoples' minds, that is if there are enough people like me watching trashy reality TV shows. Sadly though, I don't think so. And really, I know most people wont think much of it. People only hear what they want to hear. People are going to assume it wont happen to them. That it happens to other people and that they are safe because they are healthy, their babies are healthy, they are past 12 weeks, therefore they are invinsible. Just as I would have done this time 12 months ago. I can only live in hope though.

And speaking of familiar, I made a new friend this week. Another friend I have never met. Another friend who is just that familiar ping of a new email in my inbox. I hope she does not mind that I am mentioning her here, but I wont say her name.

My friend Carly who writes all our babies' names in the sand told me about her.

"Sally, a woman in Melbourne contacted me this week. She lost her daughter at 40 weeks and 6 days."

"Oh god Carly. Give me her email address. Send her a link to my blog."

She did, and I contacted her and we have been emailing each other ever since. Just as it was described at Glow in the Woods a few months back, we have aired all our dirty laundry first. It is a relationship working backwards. Learning all the deep and dark secrets about each other first, before we share even the simplest things.

She too lost her first born, a beautiful little girl in December. She's my age, and she too had a beautifully healthy pregnancy that ended in absolute shock and horror.

She was also sent home from hospital after she had a questionable CTG trace. She too was told not to worry, take a shower, take a Panadol and ring back if you were worried. She did call back and the midwives were dismissive of her. Forgetting that while they'd seen this all a thousand times before, she'd never done it. Forgetting she was new at this, a first time mother not really sure of what her labouring body was doing. Eventually she did head back to hospital, but when she did, it was tragically too late.

Then comes the familiar story of the unsuccessful Doppler attempt to find a heartbeat. The ultrasound. The trauma and sheer heart ache that followed. Then hello and goodbye all in one breath before burying her beautiful little girl some days later.

She may only be a few months behind me in this journey, but already after many long email exchanges, I can see so much of me in her. The days she's having now are the days I was having a few months ago. She's dazed, confused and lost and missing her baby like crazy. Her bad days by far outnumber the good days. Sadly though at almost six months out, so do mine. I have not sugar coated things for her. It is not about to get any easier yet, not by a long shot.

I hate that Hope had to die in the senseless and preventable circumstances she did. I wish that if she had to die, that she was the last baby to do so. I hate hearing about new people in this awful club. And I hate knowing another another baby lost her life in such horrific circumstances.

Even though it is comforting to hear familiar stories so we feel less isolated in our pit of grief, I still hate welcoming new people to this sad and sorry community of the babylost.

Welcome new friend, we're so sorry you had to join us.