Thursday was a bit of a blur if I’m honest. I knew I had to get through the work day, get home and get back into town for the Women of the Murray, Brave Not Perfect event.
I was exhausted and my brain was just a scramble. Once home and showered, I was still sweating while getting ready – I literally had to bring the portable fan into the bedroom while I fixed my hair and tried my best to cover the cystic acne that had formed on my face. I’d written my speech; it was our story and words I had lived through – I had this!
It was weird, I just didn’t allow the nerves, stress or any negative thoughts to enter my mind – there just wasn’t any room!
Until I entered the venue and I felt my heartbeat race. Once seated I couldn’t take in any other conversations happening around me and the room was defiantly full! I was told I would be going third after a minor intermission. The first speaker pulled at my heart, a mother of two, who, somehow had lived and survived through her partners and father of their children’s suicide. I could only imagine, as the tears fell down my face.
I focused on my breathing through the next speaker and intermission before it was my turn. I opened with, ‘I’m just going to see how I go.’ I didn’t make it through the first page before the tears started to fall and my voice wobbled. The words ‘I had now carried our baby for three days knowing he had passed and I was heartbroken,’ I paused.
Somehow, I continued, but the wobbling had set in, I read the words, ‘Our little Louis had arrived and so had the tears as he was handed onto my chest to face me, but his eyes were closed,’ I paused again. This time stopping as the tears continued to run down my face. I took a step back from the microphone and took a deep breath, before trying again. But it was with the mention of Louis following ‘a little boy named Harry,’ that an old colleague jumped up to stand by me – she threw her arms around me and encouraged me to keep going.
The emotions had completely caught me off guard and I suddenly felt very isolated, or even self-conscious – I just hadn’t been prepared for all the tears. This was our story, that I had been telling for months now. A story I was proud to share – yet here I was unable to physically tell it? Somehow, I continued to wobble, wipe tears and sniff my way through explaining what followed once home, the hurdles we faced with Charlie and the guilt I questioned in the early days of our grief – before my emotions settled. I still had my old colleague standing next to me and the MC had also joined us, while I more calmly continued on with how ‘losing Louis had changed us, and we were forced to prioritise our own needs over what was expected of us.’
While wrapping things up, I looked up and noticed the whole room was too, in tears. It was in that moment that my confidence returned, this entire room of mainly people I had never met before were there to hear our story and the respect I felt in all of their eyes was overwhelming. The questions that followed didn’t scare me and I was actually more comfortable speaking freely than I had been reading from my paper – the answers just came naturally. Others within the room opened up about their own losses and expressed their gratitude for the courage I had shown in telling Louis’ story – the whole room needed a reset and a few deep breaths before the final speaker and I was free to return to my seat.
Midwives Danielle and Robyn were there and jumped up out of their seats as I made my way back across the room, both throwing their arms around me into a huge embrace. Danielle stating ‘You did amazing and you’re so so brave, so brave.’
I was absolutely wiped out by this point and I honestly don’t remember much about the speaker that followed, but I sat and listened in the silence with the rest of the room. After the final speaker concluded we were free to mingle and one of the mothers who confided her own loss made her way toward me while on her way outside, I stood up and pulled her into a hug arms, she in return embracing the comfort. We knew each other briefly before hand and were aware of each other’s losses, but within that moment we were one in the same – both valued members of ‘The Worst Girl Gang Ever.’ A number of other ladies gestured towards me on their way out with words of well wishes for the new bub and admiration for what I had shared tonight. The word ‘brave’ was mentioned several times. Which I thought was weird, what I had just done wasn’t brave, what we had been through yes and how we now continued to live on without Louis, was brave, was that what they meant? I guess to me, sharing my story came naturally, that was a part of my healing and a way to keep Louis with us, always. Yes, I had just cried my way through sharing our story, but I wasn’t embarrassed – I guess Louis had given me that, and that, maybe was what these women had admired.
It was hard for me to put into words how I felt about the night. I was exhausted and emotionally tapped out. I was happy I had done it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it again. For now, I was quite happy hiding behind my keyboard, but I also wasn’t a keen public speaker. Maybe it would come to that eventually, but I felt I needed to work on the way I presented myself – I didn’t care that I had cried through it, but people needed to be able to understand what I was saying or it was all for nothing.
The following morning, I honestly felt hung over from alcohol – I was obviously not! But I continued to drag my feet throughout the day. My final day before commencing Maternity Leave!
The girls surprised me with a gift for the baby, to which they had all put something into a large picnic style basket – I honestly wasn’t expecting it and it took everything I had not to burst into tears again. Even more surprising was that the kinder staff had also put in! The card read ‘Welcome Little One! Three sons – one in your arms, one by your side and one forever in your heart,’ complete with a picture of a rainbow. Even further, management had organised flowers to be delivered! I wished I was more on top of things and able to show my upmost gratitude but I was numb and honestly in survival mode. All I could hope was that they understood and that I really was so grateful for all they had done, for all of us.
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It was strange, I felt at peace, but maybe numb? I was defiantly exhausted, that I knew! Every kick from bub felt like a relief, before the anxiety would build again. I was sleeping most days due to sleep amsonia throughout the night and I had developed a chesty cough, leaving me even more exhausted. There was so much I wanted to get stuck into – the nursery – the Christmas decorations – along with all the other general housework. But I was that uncomfortable I could only accomplish small jobs at a time before needing to sit down again. I wasn’t sure if it were the sickness or the pregnancy taking its toll, but whatever it was, my excitement would have to wait until I was more rested – it had only been a week after-all!
The problem was, there had been a shift in my healing process and what we had planned for the nursery with both boys previously – I now wanted to change. We had planned to clear the bookshelf of Louis’ things, moving them onto display within our room, but the more I thought about it, it felt like an intrusion. It was weird, the nursery had always been the same, yet now I was looking at it as Louis’ nursery and we were moving him out of there. Louis would always be our forever baby boy, the one who had never made it home – by moving Louis’ things out of the nursery, it seemed that outcome was final and we would be bringing our rainbow baby home. I guess I wanted to remember the nursery the way it was and create new memories with bub – it had never been the plan, but losing Louis wasn’t a part of that plan either. Therefore, I bought new wall decals to replace the baby zoo animal theme we had anticipated to last all our babies and would be replacing it with Winnie-The-Pooh. The furniture would remain the same and we would add a few things here and there, but it gave me focus – something positive to look forward to. I just needed to find the energy!
Louis’ place would now be with us and in every room of the home – that was the shift. We needed to find a way to carry him differently, within us! This had been what my therapist had been talking about and I was only now just realising what I had yet to face. I had told myself it wouldn’t be a problem because the nursery had always been the same, yet here I was needing a fresh new look to set a difference between our forever baby boy and our rainbow baby boy.
'Our Little Louis' 