Monday, 13 December 2010

Four Months Today

It's been 4 months since we lost our son. At times it feels like it just happened yesterday and at other times it feels like it happened years ago. 4 months since we went in for our routine 36 weeks growth scan and heard the words no parents want to hear.

"There's no heartbeat."

It's still surreal to me in many ways. Unlike many women in similar situations, I had no idea anything was wrong. I thought I was feeling him moving. Even after they told us, I still thought I could feel him moving. I suppose what I was feeling was his body floating around responding to my movements. But it was such a shock when we saw his lifeless body on the ultrasound machine because I really had no idea he was already gone. How is it possible that I didn't know? What kind of mother does that make me?

Today in the shower I had a flashback. It was of the day I was released from the hospital. I was still sore and hunched over from the C-Section. My husband helped me slowly get into the taxi with my suitcase. I was wearing one of my bright orange maternity tops. I had two of them. I don't usually wear orange but being pregnant made me feel so happy and sunny that orange seemed like the perfect color match to my mood. But the day I left the hospital was a different story.

I cried all the way home in my sunny orange top. I was not bringing home a baby, he was being taken away to have a post mortem conducted. My husband and I were sitting in the taxi alone. Instead of holding our son, we were holding each other. This was not the ride home I was supposed to be taking. My body and spirit were broken, what on earth was I going to do now?

Now, 4 months on I am still asking myself that same question. What am I going to do now?


  1. Four months is so hard. So brutal. I feel for you so much and wish I could suck you forward to a time where it hurts a tiny bit less. But that said, I know you have to go through this. There is no other way around it.
    I'm here. I'm listening. I'm missing your son with you.

  2. I wore a lot of orange in my pregnancy as well. And Otis's baby blanket was orange too. (I now sleep with it every night.)

    Thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving a comment. I am so sorry for the loss of your son. This pain is brutal and no mama should ever have to know it.

    sending love and strength.

  3. Thanks so much for stopping by my blog.

    I am so sorry for the loss of your son. Thinking of you. I can imagine the flashbacks are very normal. I know it's not the same, but very similar things happened to me after my father died as a child. It's just so much trauma to bear.


  4. Thank you lovely ladies for your kind words. They really do help.

  5. You're already doing it. I wish you understood how strong and brave you really are. Look how many people relate to your words and find comfort, even if it's just to know they're not alone in pain and despair.
    Keep writing and through it you'll find your way.
    Wish I could give you and all the other broken moms a hug x

  6. Wordgeyser, sometimes I think it's the writing things down that keeps me sane (sort of). Most times I don't feel strong or brave, but I'm trying my best.