Those lips

For as long as I can remember, I have read the birth notices in the major daily newspaper in my city.

When I became pregnant, this took on new significance as I trawled the notices looking for names I liked, laughed at the hideous ones and generally got excited about a time in the not too distant future when I would be placing my own ad for my very own first child.

When Hope died, one of the things I immediately felt so gutted about, amongst so many other things, was the birth notice I would never be able to place for her.

But I did anyway. Over the years, I have always noticed the birth notices of stillborn babies, as infrequent as they are, and always shed silent tears for the parents of babies "born sleeping". I could never imagine anything so horrific. I always thought the parents of those babies were so "brave" to list their births amongst all the happy endings.

So the morning after Hope was born, I penned some words for her birth notice. Now I was going to be one of those parents with a baby listed as "born sleeping".

Mummy and daddy will always love their little girl they never got to know or see grow.

It felt nice to see the ad go in. But obviously so wrong at the same time. The ads above and below were the sorts that were littered with huge "It's a girl" or "Congratulations on the safe arrival of...." or "X and X are proud to announce... mum and bubs doing well!" "Everyone is so excited!"

After I had Hope, you'd think one of the smartest things I could have done was stop reading the birth notices. But I didn't. Each day, I would get up, get the paper and continue to torture myself by reading the ads. And every so often, my heart would break again as I would see one for a little baby lost. I wanted to reach out to those parents. Tell them they were not alone. Tell them that their baby was loved and missed.

When Angus was born, one of the nicest things I got to do (aside from staring in to his eyes, feeding him, changing him, snuggling with his warm, wriggly body) was to put a birth notice in the paper.

Sally and Simon are overjoyed to announce the safe arrival of their son Angus Leo. Watched over by big sister Hope Angel in Heaven. Our hearts are full of love.

Finally, I could be one of the normal people, with a normal ad. I know the ad was still tainted with much sadness, but also so much joy and goodness.

Lately, as I have been flicking through the birth notices, with the little spare time I have, I have been noticing a new trend. Many of the notices now are now accompanied by small photos of the babies. Often just black and white, but a little photo nonetheless to show off the new bundle of joy. I'm sure it must cost a fortune, but if people have that sort of money to splash around, good luck to them.

Today I saw one that made my heart almost stop.

It was the lips that gave it away. For anyone who has given birth to a baby who was still will know those lips. Those deep, crimson lips. You could pick them a mile off.

To anyone else, they might have just assumed this baby was in fact, asleep. But to me, I could tell straight away. And the ad read:

We said hello the same time we said goodbye. X and X are proud to announce the arrival of their forever baby. Born still on....

I wonder how many people will really stop and take notice of that ad? Look at the adorable, peaceful baby, read the ad and shed a silent tear. I wonder how many will notice. I wonder how many people will have any idea about the depths of this poor couple's grief?

I know too much about their grief. And I know today, I shed a tear for that poor missing baby. Their forever baby. A little baby so wanted and anticipated, who tragically got away.

Sleep well little one. I'm hope your parents got to kiss those lips, even if it was only once.