Xavier’s Sunshines

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

If I wasn’t blogging about life and parenting after loss, I’d likely be blogging about craft and/or fashion. Both are things I love and both seem trivial in the face of losing my son. However, they do remain a part of me. I cannot let the greatest loss of my life take away the little things. Craft and creating allows me a closeness to Xavier and tonight I wanted to share a little project with you.

I recently made a little felt sunshine for Elijah and it hangs in his daytime cot. It feels like a manifestation of Xavier looking over Elijah. I liked it so much that I made a few more for friends’ babies. Sharing around Xavier’s sunshine.

If you would like to make one too, here are the instructions:

You will need

50cm of yellow felt (you can use other fabrics, but as felt has no nape, you don’t need to worry about finishing the edges)
A collection of different yellow & orange ribbons
Orange or yellow thread
Black thread
Polly-fill for stuffing
Scissors, a sewing machine, needle, pins

To Make

Cut out two yellow felt circles exactly the same size. You can use a compass to create a perfect circle, or cut freehand for a more organic shape. Make sure you place a marker, I have used a pin, to show where the two pieces match up.

Cut small strips of ribbon, approximately but not exactly the same length.

Randomly place the ribbon, folded over, around the circumference of one of the yellow circles. Pin in place.

Machine stitch around the circle, securing the ribbons in place.

With the black thread, embroider eyes and a smiling mouth on the other piece of felt. I did this freehand, but you could trace it first in pencil or chalk and then stitch over it.

To add a little blush to the cheeks of the sun, I used make-up (specifically benefit benetint)

Machine stitch the two pieces of felt together, leaving a small opening.

Stuff the sun with the polly fill.

Machine stitch the opening closed.

Thread a longer piece of the ribbon you have used through one of the loops so that the toy can be secured to a cot, pram etc.

You can make this into a crinkle toy by cutting circles out of an empty baby wipes toy and placing inside the yellow circles prior to stitching them together.

(These wipes are the BEST by the way – you can get them here – Aussie Wipes)

Part of the inspiration for this little cutie came from this blog post – Rainbow Sunshine Plushie

22Aug2013

Ladders in Loss

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

There is an unwritten ladder of grief that bereaved parents seem expected to adhere to. An expectation by society that a miscarriage hurts less than a still birth, a still birth less than a neonatal loss, a younger child less than an older one. And the length of time allowed for grieving contracts the younger your child was at the time of loss.

The truth is, that ladder is a lie. There is no “more than” or “less than” in grief – each story holds its own tragic weight. A weight that defies categorisation or comparison. For as much as there is no “less than” there is also no “the same as”. My grief over Xavier is different from the mother who lost her baby at birth, different from the father who lost his son to an accident at three years old, different from the parents who learned at their thirteen week scan that their baby had no heartbeat, indeed, different from another family who lost their son at two weeks old to SIDS. But it is not “more than” and it is not “less than”. We are different but bound by the common devastation of holding a child in our heart, rather than in our arms.

There is no finite amount of grief that needs to be shared amongst the bereaved. Each journey is different and each journey is valid. How someone else grieves their child is their business – the intensity of their sadness does not somehow invalidate my grief over Xavier. There is no competition. There are definitely no prizes.

When we first lost Xavier at just two weeks old to SIDS, I wondered whether it would have been easier if he had born still. Would that have hurt less? It is an impossible question. I am so grateful for the two weeks we spent with our middle son. I would never wish it away. I would rather have loved and lost him, than to have never had him at all. Every parent treasures the time they get to spend with their child. And yet those that didn’t get to spend any time with their living baby outside the womb are expected to hurt less. It defies logic. A baby is a baby to their parents the happy moment they find out they are pregnant. Hopes and dreams for that child often formed before that. Every baby is a miracle. Whether you grieve the memories you made or the memories you never got to make, that grief is real and cannot be contained within imaginary boundaries. Parents need to grieve, without judgement and without ladders.

13Aug2013

Instinct

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

When I was pregnant with Elijah I was monitored more closely than I had been with either Isaac or Xavier. Not because I had a high risk pregnancy, but to allay my own anxieties.

Close monitoring is a double edged sword. On the one hand you have the constant and necessary assurance that your baby is still living, on the other every single growth abnormality is picked up. At 34 weeks, Elijah’s head measured large and his femurs short. I imagined dwarfism and a host of other Dr Google supplied diagnoses. He was born in perfect proportion.

This is the sword – reassurance comes with no guarantees and the slightest issue gains momentous proportions. The promise of rarity echoes hollow when you have been the one-in-whatever.

Yet, somewhere deep down I knew Elijah would be okay. There was a motherly instinct that was difficult to grasp at times but existed nonetheless. Instinct can be hard to access once it has been tainted by fear, but it remains. Instinct does not disappear after loss, but it can be crowded out by doubt and distrust. It’s hard to trust your gut when your head is full of anxiety. But if I took a deep breath, concentrated, and asked Xavier for a little guidance, my true maternal instinct was still in tact.

Just as I had multiple scans during pregnancy, Elijah has seen the inside of the GP’s office more times than would be considered normal for a healthy two week old. I have needed the reassurance – particularly in the lead up to Elijah turning the same age as Xavier when he died. But with that reassurance has come multiple weighings and with those weighings a concern about the lack of weight Elijah has been putting on. He weighed 3.5 at birth and 3.2 at discharge. Within the following week he only put on 60 grams. My GP suggested a formula feed once a day to increase his weight. I left in tears. My milk supply is fine – gushing in fact. The advice insinuated that formula would be better food for my baby than my milk. Breastfeeding has always been something I love doing and have never had an issue with. To think I was failing Elijah with my milk after feeling I failed Xavier was too much.

But somewhere motherly instinct kicked in (with help from N and supportive friends) and I knew formula was not the answer. I rang the ABA in floods of tears and the counsellor was fabulous. I booked an appointment with the Mater hospital lactation consultants.

During that appointment they saw that Elijah latched properly. Check. That he had no tongue tie. Check. That there was plenty of milk. Check. Then he was weighed and he had put on 140 grams in 3 days. Check. Check. Check.

The lactation consultant explained that weight is only one factor to measure a baby’s well being. A good amount of dirty nappies proves that milk is getting into baby. The baby’s skin tone and level of contentment indicates their health. She also pointed out that when a baby is in the womb, they are being nourished according to the mother’s body. Once they are born, they regulate their own appetite, which may not match what was offered in utero. I was ecstatic that Elijah had put on so much weight, but armed with this extra knowledge, I won’t panic unnecessarily if that amount of weight gain is not consistent.

I am so glad I followed my instinct. I am reminded that the best expert on my baby, is me. The role of health professionals is to educate and support me – but their role is not to mother my baby. Every mother is the best expert on their own child. We just need to trust and believe in ourselves.

12Aug2013

Two Weeks

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

On the weekend Elijah turned two weeks old. For our family this was a significant milestone. It’s the age Xavier was when we said goodbye. On the eve of Elijah’s 13th day – the morning we found Xavier without breath – Elijah was held all night long. My gorgeous sister stayed with me as we watched TV and waited out the sunrise. As the clock ticked over to 5am, I held Elijah close and wept with relief.

“You’re going to stay” I whispered, elated and sleep deprived.

N had pointed out that there was minimal chance of Elijah dying by SIDS and non-existent odds of him doing so at the same age we lost Xavier. But the heart and head sometimes follow different paths. Even though it makes little logical sense, I cannot help but feel that we have dodged a bullet.

The anxiety remains, and it probably will forever, but the feeling of certainty that we will lose Elijah has lessened. I will still wake in the night and check that he is breathing, but I am less surprised now to find that he still with us. When you have experienced the worst, it can be hard to have faith in the future. But I am slowly finding that faith. I do not believe our lives will be perfect from this point onwards. I have seen too many people go through multiple losses to believe that our angel children look after us from afar and protect us from any future pain. Life doesn’t work on a series of checks and balances, nor do tragedy and deservedness have any bearing on each other. I cannot look into the future and know what it holds. But I am sure there will be both beauty and pain, laughter and tears. So I can face the future with fear or with hope and I am going to choose hope.

I wrote these affirmations to help me with my anxiety – they might help other parents too.

11Aug2013

Being Brave

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

I have been working on this blog for a few days now, but I have been unsure as to whether to make it’s presence more widely known.

Whilst writing about loss is cathartic, sharing those thoughts feels a little like standing naked in the school yard. The internet can be a cruel place of faceless judgement, and whilst you might believe a bereaved parent to be held sacred, that is far from the truth.

Then I remembered the days after Xavier’s death by SIDS. I would scour the internet in the hopes of finding a story that reflected my own. I wanted to know that people lived through losing their children. That people found hope again. That grief would eventually become gentler. And I found some of those stories. And they did help. They let me know I wasn’t alone. They prepared me for the path ahead. I am grateful to those brave parents, who let their fears, dreams and hopes become words that others could grab onto. If I can count myself amongst their number, then that is enough.

So, with a great big gulp, I am going to plunge in and share my story with the world.

10Aug2013

The Magic of a Newborn

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

As my eldest son Isaac (now 4) grew from newborn to baby to toddler, I would announce each new phase as my favourite so far. But the newborn stage holds a special place in my heart. There is just something magical about new life in its most infant form. This tiny little person, full of possibility, but right now totally dependant. Baby at breast, surrounded by my family, offers a level of contentment that cannot be easily surpassed. Watching N hold little Elijah – both relaxing on the couch – fills me with warmth and gratitude. The little mewls, the grip of a tiny hand around your fingertip, those bewildered first glances until they catch your eye and gaze back your reflected love. The cuddles at all hours of the day and night. I can’t properly describe how much I love each moment. I felt this with Isaac, with Xavier and now with Elijah. When Xavier died so young, I felt particularly robbed of this beautiful stage. So I treasure every sight, every sound, every smell, every touch that Elijah offers.

A dear friend gave birth to her first – a little girl- two days before Elijah came into the world. When we met up for the first time after our babies were born she cried with me over Xavier. Her absolute love for her daughter giving her a glimpse into what the impossible pain of losing Xavier might have been. Even now, with Elijah in my arms, I wonder how I survived – and continue to survive – without one of my children. But his love remains and my heart richer for him being a part of our lives. I am a better, more patient and more grateful parent after loss. And the magic of a newborn has me spellbound once again.

8Aug2013

Welcome Elijah

Posted in Uncategorized by Robyna

On the 28th July, we welcomed our precious little man Elijah George into our lives. This is his birth story.

My pregnancy with Elijah was text book – in the sense that it was one of those of pregnancies that progress with no complications and very little discomfort. Like my previous two pregnancies, I physically felt well and joyful. However, after losing our darling second born, Xavier to SIDS, my anxiety was a different story. Losing a child opens your eyes to a whole new world. A world where previously healthy babies are born still, where there is no magic 12 week safety marker, where you can do everything right and still lose your precious child. Where you are acutely aware of just how common stillbirth remains despite the fact no one talks about it. Where a positive pregnancy test does not guarantee a positive outcome. Where newborn babies can die without a reason.

Every kick was a welcome reassurance, followed closely by the panicked thought that perhaps that was the last kick I’d feel. My doctor was amazing. He guided me through that anxiety without questioning its validity. Each scan gave me the reassurance I needed. Each time I heard the words “perfectly normal”, I could exhale for a moment. And when Elijah failed to turn up at around 36 weeks like his brothers, he okay’ed induction at 37 weeks + 2 days. Elijah weighed a good amount and his head was measuring term, so we were both comfortable with this. Particularly as my anxiety was rising after one of the women I knew through a subsequent pregnancy support group lost another child to stillbirth a few days before her scheduled induction at 39 weeks – she had asked for an earlier induction and it had been denied her.

On the morning of induction my husband and I calmly made our way to the hospital, comparing it to our previous two trips when I had been in labour by this point. I even applied some make-up though I have no idea why I thought that it would last through labour. We arrived and met up with my sister, Paulina, who has been present at all the boy’s births. We were quickly showed to our birthing suite by our beautiful midwife, Nikki.

I set up Xavier’s photo and my birthing necklace. The necklace is made up of beads that each of my family and girlfriends had given me at my baby shower/blessing – each bead representing a different wish for Elijah and I. Paulina placed oil into a burner. The room felt good.

At 8:30 Nikki broke my waters. It was probably the most uncomfortable part of the labour but it meant the beginning. I had hoped to avoid the syntocin drip and was able to wait a couple of hours to see if I went into labour spontaneously. I bounced on the birthing ball as we chatted and laughed. Paulina and I belly danced around the room, laughing as my doctor came into the room a moment after we stopped. That dance is one of my precious memories from Elijah’s birth. My doctor prepped me for the drip but said we could wait a while to administer the syntocin. Paulina performed acupressure in the hopes of getting labour underway. At about 10:00 I started to get mild contractions. As in my previous labours, these were very mild but still relatively close together. I could talk through them and had to pay careful attention to my body to tell when they eased off. By around11:30 the contractions had strengthened and the syntocin was decided against. As I started to need to lean on the sink to brace myself for the next contraction and let out a low moan, N exclaimed, “we’re on – baby will be here at around 12:30”. I moved between shower and toilet as I felt myself go into transition. That uncomfortable place of confusion and irritability – where you don’t know what you want and you can’t answer anything sensibly. As I stood in the shower, Nikki asked “so are we going to have a baby?” “I think so,” I moaned, unable to be committal even about the obvious. N ran the hot water over my back in the shower. Some abstract part of me noted how cute he looked in the scrubs Nikki had given him to wear in the shower. Sitting on the shower floor, I tried to regain some control and I whispered “breath out fear – let it go.” I moved to the bed, willing the pushing part to come on. Paulina and N stood on either side of me, applying acupressure. Finally the urge to push and I felt I needed to be on the toilet. Nikki quickly retrieved from there – “you can’t have baby here” she gently reminded me. I had intended to give birth on all fours as I had with Elijah’s brothers, but there was no time to climb on the bed. Instead, I leaned on the bed to give birth standing up. My doctor was called at 12:35 as birth was imminent. Paulina and N continued to support me through acupressure. As the next urge to push came I let out a large primal roar. It wasn’t a cry of pain, it was powerful and empowering – the roar of a lioness. I listened to Nikki as she instructed me to push just a little and breathe and then the words every labouring mother wants to hear “next push, and baby will be here”. I let a few joyful tears fall before the final push, roar and sensation of pure joy and relief. I held Elijah as Nikki passed him to me between my legs, cord attached. I held my baby in my arms for the first time. It was 12:39. We made our way to the bed, where Paulina cut the cord. Not long after my doctor arrived to deliver the placenta and the happy news that all was intact, just a small graze.

The atmosphere in the room returned to light and jovial as Elijah started his first feed. I felt loved, supported and listened to through the whole labour. Xavier was very much in the room with us.

During Elijah’s first few days we were supported by the gorgeous midwives and baby care assistants at the Mater. They listened as I talked about Xavier. They told me how beautiful Elijah was. They allowed me sleep when I desperately needed it and were kind and supportive in every way. On the afternoon of Elijah’s birth, my eldest son Isaac and my husbands family, including my darling nieces and nephews, met Elijah. The love in Isaacs eyes melted my heart. It was strange to feel such contentment whilst being acutely aware that there should have been a little one year old Xavier meeting his brother. But as the colours of sunset glinted of Xavier’s picture, I knew he was welcoming his little brother in his own sweet way.