Somehow things with Charlie had eased and we were finally seeing improvements with his toileting! The relief we were feeling was amazing and I could only hope that we had come too far for a relapse, please, please just let us have this one win! Dave and I understood that Charlie would have bad days but currently the good were outweighing the bad and that was all we wanted – for Charlie to be a kid.
From observing him as an educator I was starting to realise that although the over stimulation was an issue, the triggers were normal. The children who set him off were either the older, controlling ones or the equal mental age children who too were yet to find their words. It was still hard to see him hurt other children or the animals while at home, but the improvements we could see were our focus and we would continue to work with him to achieve further success. Charlie was cheeky and he could be down-right naughty but I needed to remember that was all children and no, no child! Was completely, 100 percent innocent – despite what parents seem to feel about their own children. Charlie was also a boy, it didn’t excuse his behaviours and I knew I would have to intercept for many, many more years, but again, we would continue to work with him.
All that mattered was that we were starting to get a glimpse of the little boy we knew per-trauma and we wanted Charlie to have the space to excel to his full potential, therefore I would continue to advocate for that growth.
I was experiencing a change in music again, this time finding my inner child. The first song by Little Mix – Little Me, lyrics as follows; wish I knew back then what I know now, wish I could, somehow, go back in time and maybe listen to my own advice. I’d tell her to speak up, tell her to shout out, talk a bit louder, be a bit prouder, tell her she’s beautiful, wonderful, everything she doesn’t see . . .
Although it was hard to imagine knowing then, what I know now, would life have been easier? I don’t think so, but I would have fought so much harder for my happiness. I would have moved out of home sooner, spent more time experiencing life, traveling, whatever it was I wanted to do! I just wouldn’t have spent so much time dwelling on bullies, on boys, on friendships that were endeavoured to end. So much time wasted, yes I learnt, but for what? I spent the rest of my life dwelling on the past and I deserved better than that, Louis deserved more than that.
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The past five days had been torture, I was 14 days post ovulation, my period was late and the positive line was getting darker – I just didn’t believe it! The signs were all there but I just didn’t believe it would stick and I was uncomfortable, my body just felt old and sore.
I began to realise that Louis had been trying to shield me from the miscarriages previously, but I had been fighting against him. For the past three cycles my period had come two days early, providing some clarity from my constant testing, but the last one I had missed the signs. I had bought myself a digital test due to my need for confirmation before Easter Sunday – it was faulty – literally the screen went blank – so I broke the thing open! Revealing the double blue line and I was convinced we were pregnant until my period arrived Easter Sunday morning, along with the tears from the bathroom.
Currently, I was battling my anxiety as I tested daily from 10 days post ovulation! And on Monday at work, when Charlie brought me a random book to read aloud to the group, I struggled to choke back the tears when I saw our little boys name printed on the page. The book was titled ‘Mum Goes To Work’ written by Libby Gleeson – a warm, reassuring and humorous look at what mothers do all day at work and home, and what their children do while in childcare.
Louis being one of the children referenced in the story. I thought, ‘there you are my baby boy,’ but this time your brother was here to witness the connection too and he jumped up onto my lap for a cuddle – it was a beautiful moment.
Following this, while editing my blog later that night, I came across a message that I had forgotten about. It was in reference to the neighbours and their grandmother who had passed away before moving to the area. During the loss of Louis, Fiona had reassured me that ‘Louis would be ok because he was with (her) Nan, and she would look after him’. I sent a message through to the girls mum the following day because I wanted to share the beautiful thought. What I didn’t realise before sending the message was it would have been Nan’s 77th birthday that day! I wanted to believe I was understanding the messages that Louis was putting out into the universe – this baby was going to be ok.
The faint line became darker and darker but my head never cleared. I rang the Royal Women’s Hospital and stubbled through the words, ‘I’m pregnant and I was asked to call to arrange treatment going forward.’ The lady on the phone was quite rude to be honest, asking questions, confused by the request and correcting my information as I had mis-calculated. Again, once she read my file and actually spoke to the doctor, she then called me back and instructed that I needed to firstly get the pregnancy confirmed with my local doctor, however the hospital had booked a dating scan and a follow up appointment for the coming weeks. The haematologist would also be checking in to discuss starting the clexane injections and would question if the prednisolone needed to be started too.
I just couldn’t balance myself, yes there was a second pink line indicating we were pregnant, the cravings were there and my period hadn’t returned. But I was so scared of miscarrying, or miss miscarrying. I just wanted to know that everything was ok, that the baby was ok – but I would be forced to wait another two weeks until our ultrasound on June 12.
Louis was constantly on my mind and I could feel myself crying again out of nowhere – I just missed him so so much. And although we had longed for this baby, it hadn’t stopped us longing for our little louis – our second born – Charlie’s baby brother.
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The morning of day 24 post ovulation my anxiety was sent through the roof from sighting a small amount of what looked like ‘old or dirty blood’ after using the toilet.
Since the miscarriage prior to losing Louis, I had seen the clotting bleeding they talk about when you lose your baby and this wasn’t it, but for the rest of the day I was petrified to go to the toilet! Rationally I wanted to believe that things were ok and that it was just a bit of old blood that had been stuck in my system, therefore I wasn’t actually bleeding or even spotting. But I was still scared and there was nothing I could do about it – only hope and pray that this baby was ok.
We focused the day on ‘Louis’ garden’ putting more fairy solar houses into place and discussing that it was mainly rocks and pathways we needed to finalise now. It had really come together and become such a beautiful space to share – a way for Charlie to remember his brother, daily.
Thankfully nothing progressed, but my anxiety had settled in for the long hall. I was still checking every time I wiped and I feared that would be for the remainder of the pregnancy now as it had been with Louis also – following the miscarriage. We still had over a week until our ultrasound at the Royal Women’s Hospital and I wanted to believe that once we saw the baby, my mind would settle – but I honestly had no idea.
I opened up to Sarah about my recent emotions regarding the amount of pregnancy announcements, frustration and jealousy. Straight away she made me feel justified and validated – we had lost a baby – of-course it was going to hurt when another family announced a new bundle of joy. She encouraged me to feel what it was I was feeling and that people needed to understand that it wasn’t personal, it was just that – we had lost our baby boy. What wasn’t a healthy thought pattern was seeing the person as selfish, rather to validate the emotions of unfairness in the world.
She reminded me that I had always lived by the saying ‘you never know the ins and outs of someone else’s life until you walk in their shoes’, I lived without judgement of others so others weren’t entitled to judge me or my feelings – that was my right. I had nothing to apologise for – our baby was taken away from us and I was allowed to be pissed off, that others for whatever reason were able to bring their baby’s home. It wasn’t a target on them personally, it was a part of my grief, my healing, my hurt and our life.
I was to give myself permission to grieve.
'Our Little Louis' 