When to give up the fight

We saw lawyers yesterday about our case and to put it bluntly, they chewed us up and spat us out. It was brutal, harsh and cruel.

We knew a law suit would be tough if we decided to proceed but I'm just not quite sure why this arsehole had to be so awful to us.

I was crying my eyes out and he couldn't even offer me tissues. A few times during the meeting I nearly got up and stormed out of the room. I just had no idea why he was being so cruel to me.

Whatever I thought of lawyers before, I now think much less of them (Sarah excluded).

I know what he was doing though. He was testing me and trying to push my buttons. He wanted to see how strong I was to see whether I could handle the case or not. He wasn't saying we had a weak case, he wouldn't have got us in otherwise, but he was subjecting me to torture and humiliation just to see what stuff I was made of.

Clearly in law there is no room for emotion or feelings. It is factual and black and white. And I'm an emotional person anyway, and clearly right now, I'm more emotional than I have ever been before.

This guy even had the nerve to question my intention with pressuring the hospital to change their procedures. He basically told me I was wasting my time and that hospitals were all talk. He said they might well introduce new guidelines, but they wouldn't be followed and eventually they would just cease to exist.

Let me tell you, he had no idea who he was messing with. He picked the wrong wounded and bereaved mother this time. I will never give up on that hospital, not for as long as I live. I never want to hear of another mother being treated the way I was treated. It is simply not acceptable.

So, a court of law might not be able to prove how drastically we were let down and how preventable her death was, but in my heart and with all of that mothering instinct I now have and can't put to good use, I know how easily she could have been saved and how different our outcome not only could have been, but should have been.

Now I just don't know what to do. We will more than likely not go down the law suit path. The hospital don't respond to my emails anymore and everyone around me seems to be giving off that "let it go" vibe.

So that's it? She's gone. I was pregnant for 40+ weeks with nothing to show for it and I don't get at least a booby prize? Nothing? And this was and never will be about money or financial gain. Far from it. Just some sort of recognition that she was here and that she mattered.

I don't know what to do. I feel so desperately helpless. This can't be it. I wont lie down and I wont give up my fight. But doors just keep shutting around me.

I feel like if I lay down now, I leave her behind. I know she will always be "with" me but I want to do more for her. I want to help her. Well I know she can't really be helped now, stuck in that box but I want to make sure her legacy lives on. I want to know her life had meaning. I want to know it all just wasn't a huge fat waste of my time, energy and resources.

I'm sorry baby. I'm sorry if it feels like I'm letting you go. I just don't know what to do anymore. You left me in the most unthinkable circumstances and I have been trying so hard to make sure that no other woman suffers like I did. But people are making me feel like I need to let it go. That I need to make peace with your passing and accept and move on. Not to forget you or get over it, I don't think anyone I know would say that, but there is this real sense that I need to reach some level of acceptance to get myself out of this desperately sad rut. I can't do that baby girl. You were supposed to live a long and happy life. You were so loved in your short time here and you continue to be loved. How we wish we could physically show you that love. I know you would have left your mark on this world. I know you would have gone on to great things. I'm sorry that your little hands never got to hug me, your little eyes never got to see me, your little toes never got tickled by Daddy, your little nose never got to smell my cooking, your little lips never got to kiss your Nannas, your little curls never got to grow any longer and that your little heart had to stop beating. I'm sorry that you never got all of those things, and so much more.

I'm just so sad. And so frustrated and anxious. That surge of mothering energy that some thought might fade has not. It is stronger than ever and I don't know how to channel it. It shows me now what a fierce and proud mother I would have been to her. That urge to protect and nourish her did not die when she did.

I'm still also feeling so lost and lonely. People seem to be dropping off. Some of those who used to contact me a lot don't anymore. Many of those have gone on to have babies so I can hardly blame them. Their lives are filled up now with wonderful new little people. My life is cold and empty. I'm exactly where most people I know would never want to be. I'm any parents worst nightmare.

But then you get an email from a new friend, and you are reminded that there is so much good in the world, and that sometimes you can find it in the most unlikely of places.

Like all the way over in sunny San Francisco.

From my new friend Gal, whose sweet baby Tikva (which means Hope in Hebrew) was also born on a Tuesday at 40 weeks and 5 days and who left this earth just weeks before my Hope did:

Let me tell you what I see in you, from the little bit that I know from what you share - just so that you don't forget that there is goodness amid the "loser life" stuff that of course you feel right now:

I see a bright, beautiful woman with a huge heart and a strong mind, and passion.
I see a wonderful mother - now and in the future.
I see a couple that loves each other SO MUCH, so deeply, so solidly.
I see enormous desire in your heart, to experience even more love than you have already.
I see a warm community of friends and family who, even if they don't always know the best way to do it, are there for you.
I see someone who knows how to express herself honestly.
I see a sweet beautiful home that you live in with the most beautiful garden, in a country I have heard is just stunning (my sister spent a semester in Melbourne during college and absolutely loved it there).
I see a bright spark that is not going to extinguish without a hell of a fight.
I see your ability to expand your ability to take on life's challenges with whatever life decides to throw your way - even if right now you feel like you just couldn't handle anything else. I think we as humans just know how to expand when we need to, and we surprise ourselves. Did you ever think you would have to expand as much as you have in the past 6 months?

That's what I see, from my corner across the globe... And I'm sending you lots of love.

Thank you Gal, thanks for saying all the things I have wanted so many people to say for so many months now. I can't really blame others for not saying those things, because I don't know anyone in my life who has walked the road that you and I have.

Six months ago I'd never heard of you and I'd never read your blog. I have never met you in real life and there is every likelihood I wont, but thank you for propping me up when so much keeps dragging me down.

You're right, my spark is not going to extinguish, not by a long shot.