A picture tells so much more than a thousand words

I've read a lot of blogs in the past two and a half years. More posts about parents missing their beloved children than I would ever dare try and count. Each post from every single parent leaves me feeling less alone and more supported. I hate to think of all the other tasks I could have completed in my life had I not spent so much time immersed in the sadness of others, but more importantly, I hate to think of where I'd be right now in my grief if I didn't have these blogs.

Last Wednesday night, I had the rare privilege of being in a room with about 200 people who "get it". It was at an exhibition opening for the wonderful organisation Heartfelt who came to the hospital to take beautiful pictures of Hope after she was born. I have had a lot to do with Heartfelt since we lost Hope, striking up a great friendship with the president and his wife and doing whatever I can to support them and help spread the word about their amazing, voluntary service (see an article I wrote for a parenting magazine below). My heart always breaks when I hear another parent say "I wish I knew about Heartfelt when my child died". My hope is that we can change that so all parents who say goodbye to a child too soon are given the opportunity of having a Heartfelt photographer attend during their darkest hour.

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Precious
Nurture
07 Mar 2011

Taking photos of a newborn baby is something most parents wouldn’t

think twice about. But what if that baby is sick, premature, or worse stillborn? For these parents there is an amazing voluntary organisation known as Heartfelt, which uses a team of...read more...Tech Tags: Nurture newspaper HEARTFELT

We were so proud the week before the exhibition to have been featured on a major news broadcast about Heartfelt and the work they do for shattered families like ours. People told us we were "brave" and "strong" to put our story forward like that, and speak about Hope and our loss in such a candid way, but that isn't brave to us - we think it is so important to get the

message out there. Losses like ours are rarely talked about in the media today I think it is important to spread the babyloss gospel. You can view the video here.

In all my time as a grieving mother, I don't think I have experienced a night like this. We tried a support group once very early on and we found it wasn't for us, and I've been lucky enough to meet a few wonderful grieving mothers in person, but this was something special. It was without a doubt the best time I have had since giving birth to Angus just over 16 months ago. Some might find that strange, as the exhibition featured dozens of photos of children no longer with us, each complete with it's own tragic story. But while reading about loss and grief is one thing, being face to face with a room full of grieving parents and being able to talk so openly about our children and our pain was the most comforting thing I think I've done since she died. If I didn't already know I wasn't alone, I'm absolutely certain of the fact now. And the women walking beside me are wonderful, warm and full of grace and compassion. I am in awe of each and every one of them. And I miss their children with them.

Gavin, Heartfelt's president, gave a wonderful speech to open the exhibition, followed by two amazing nurses then two grieving mothers. The mothers were the only two who managed to squeeze a tear out of me on the night. I'm like a woman of stone these days and rarely cry. I may well have used up all of my tears. They certainly don't fall as frequently. The first mother was composed and very dignified in her speech and she illustrated the pain parents feel after losing a child in the most perfect and articulate way. The second mother gave a very different speech and cried the entire way through - as did most of the room. She also just nailed it in terms of putting it out there how bloody hard and relentless this is and how much we often have to suffer in silence. I wish every person I've ever met, especially those who have fallen by the wayside in the past two and a half years could have been in the room to hear these words. It made me feel like I am not a freak. I am not wallowing. That my grief is not too "intense", too "extreme", or too "different" from the norm, whatever that may be. It made me feel completely normal, and for that I will be forever grateful. Especially when in my last post, I talked about how vastly different I feel these days. I wish I could have bottled up the experience and express posted it to every babyloss mum I have ever met who wasn't fortunate enough to be there in the room with us on the night. I'm still struggling to find the right words on how much it all meant to me and how wonderful this organisation is. I figured getting it all out in a blog post would be a good place to start, as I don't want my memories of this night to fade.

The exhibition, while full of sadness and heartbreaking stories of loss, made me feel lighter. Something shifted in me that night. I felt proud to be there. Proud. Proud to be a grieving mother. While I'd give all four of my limbs not to be a grieving mother, on Wednesday night I felt proud. Proud of how far I've come. Proud of how well I'm doing now. Proud of Hope and how many lives she has touched and how important she is to so many other people. Sometimes I think she's had a far more remarkable impact in death than she may have ever had in life. I can imagine if I was keeping a blog now about her antics as a two and a half year old toddler, I'd probably have about two readers - both of her grandmothers. She and I would both just be faces in the crowd and by saying this I really don't mean to sell her short as I know she would have been amazing. It is just that we were just ordinary people leading an ordinary life. Her death was certainly extraordinary in so many ways and I am now proud to be helping to make extraordinary changes as a result of her death. I know our hospital didn't offer Heartfelt's services when Hope was stillborn, we were lucky enough to learn about them through a friend who made that initial call to Gavin. But on Wednesday night, I saw a social worker from our hospital there. Not wanting to blow my own horn, but it was ME who pestered the hospital with letters and emails after Hope died, urging them to support this worthy charity and to make sure their most unfortunate patients knew about them. If my dear friend didn't know about Heartfelt, I'd never have such beautiful pictures of Hope and my grief is bad enough as it is. I hate to think of where I'd be without those pictures, as ours most certainly do not do her, or us, justice (as you can see in my last post). I don't need anymore regrets in this long and lonely road of grief and I know too many mothers who wish they had just one decent photo of their baby. I'm was both delighted and heartbroken to learn on Wednesday, many families since ours have been offered the Heartfelt service at that particular hospital.

With the lightness has come another level of acceptance or perhaps letting go. I have held on to so much resentment and anger towards friends who abandoned me and who continue to abandon me as each new month passes. Yet I am the one always so quick to say, "only those who have been through this could ever get it". So I wonder, why have I expected so much from these people? None of my friends have ever been through anything like this, not even close. It doesn't mean I necessarily forgive them as many others managed what so many of them couldn't, but I'm relinquishing some of that anger. It is pointless. As a dear friend said to me in an email this week, it is more a case of "I just don't care anymore". And I don't. I lost my daughter, so no other loss I have experienced since is ever going to stack up.

I also couldn't finish without saying how lucky I was to spend some time with the amazing Carly at the exhibition. She flew over from Perth just for the event and she was like babyloss royalty. She looked like a princess and that was the first thing I said to her when I saw her. There is a certain aura about Carly and her presence in the room was an inspiration to so many. There was not a single person there who wasn't aware of who she was or what she does for this community and I think there were so many who were touched to finally meet her and thank her for her own precious photos. When we met at Angus' first birthday party last year, I was so busy and was barely able to sit down and speak two words to her, but Wednesday was different, with Angus safely tucked in bed at home with his Nannie. We were even able to head out afterwards and share a pizza, as if we do it every week and have been doing it since high school. I feel so lucky to have met Carly and to share such a special friendship with her, despite the fact I'm so unlucky to be in this shitty situation the first place.

The pictures from the exhibition left me breathless. Each one with such a heartbreaking story behind them. It is without doubt, when looking at photos like this, you realise they tell so much more than a thousand words.

I know when I look at Hope's photos, I see a million words and endless possibilities. I wish she was here but given that she's not, I'm so glad I have these precious pictures of her to soften the edges of my pain. Thank you Heartfelt. And thanks for an unforgettable night last week.