GillyF
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Posts: 291
My lark. My angel. My boy.
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« Reply #7 on: January 24, 2009, 12:04:31 PM » |
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Oh, Carly.
Most of the time this thread ticks along, sometimes it can be very quiet, and then, bang, in comes a message with the worst news I think it is possible to share on OFB: the loss of two precious babies. Our hearts go out to you and your partner, they really do.
It is terrifying when things go wrong very early in pregnancy, and it is unforgivable for medical staff to behave as if it is no big deal when the lives of the unborn are at risk and the mother is in a state of great distress. And sadly, no matter where you live, when babies need special care and specialist services the probability that they will have to be moved long distance is very real.
Forgive me if I don't express this well, but while it is wonderful that you had those weeks with Luca it is also exceptionally unfortunate that after Joel's death you had quite a long period of time when everything seemed to be going well for him. Because after you lose one twin you are utterly obsessed with the survivor's welfare, and staff will have been doing their utmost to accentuate the positive and lift your hopes and spirits. So to then have things turn so quickly, as they can with very premature babies, is just ... there aren't words that can truly describe how awful it is. They can't. My boys were born at 30 weeks, and 5 days later their consultant expressed his delight at their progress and for the first time in 7 months I told myself everything would be ok. But then the next day my son, Guy, had blood in his stools and that was it - transfers, ambulances, talking to surgeons and, as you say, Carly, such a change in his appearance. And then he was gone. My little lark was gone.
It is not a question of God's will, it is a question of vulnerablility. And luck. Yours and your babies'. And it is not that some babies are stronger fighters than others, it is that they are all tiny and extremely fragile and that modern medicine can do incredible things but sometimes it just isn't enough. Our babies suffer and die and we are left heartbroken and unable to believe that it should have happened to our loved ones and to us. It is only natural to ask why us, why our babies, particularly when we hear so often of other premature babies surviving. It isn't fair, it is cruel, and it's immensely difficult to live with.
I wish with all my heart I could lift you, but I feel compelled to tell you the truth in the desperate hope that it might offer a little bit of help because you should know that the feelings you have now will be with you for a long time to come, probably the rest of your life. Because you have loved and lost two very precious children. Other people will try their best to soothe you with assurances that it will get better, they will desperately want to believe that for you, but the honest truth is that you will grieve deeply, you will go through some very hard times because everything that happened will always be crystal clear to you, your body and heart will ache for your sons, and all you can do is your best - and remind yourself that you did your best. You will be hard on yourself, you will be angry, you will always carry in you a deep sadness, but you can only do your best to carry on because you can't do anything else. The word tragedy is used all too often these days, but the death of a baby is a tragedy, and you have suffered terribly. I'm sorry if I'm not doing a very good job here, but tears don't help when you're trying to type and the news of the loss of your sons is deeply upsetting to anyone who knows how it feels to lose a child. People think you move on, they might even ask you why you haven't moved on. People on OFB complain of it all the time, and only the other day, an embryologist, a man who makes his living out of people struggling to have children, someone who should have known better, said to me 'Surely, you've moved on by now?' when we established that our sons were born on the same day nearly two years ago. You don't 'move on', you grieve, you do your best, and you remember the children you loved more than life itself. They weren't ex-boyfriends!
In my newspaper the other day, a journalist who had been so struck by a peeling headstone he had seen said that he was writing about it so as to preserve it electronically, it had touched him so much. It marked the grave of a baby girl who had died at 8 weeks old. 'Touched the Earth and Gone to Glory' her grieving parents had had inscribed in the 1800s. And that's just it - our babies Touched the Earth, Captured our Hearts, and are gone somewhere we cannot but sure, but we hope it is safe and glorious. That is the least they deserve.
I am so very sorry for your loss, Carly, and we are all here for you whenever you need us.
Rest in peace Joel and Luca.
best wishes,
Gilly
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