I should have a nearly 3 year old right now and Lily shouldn’t exist.

It head fucks me massively to look at it like that but it’s true. I obviously love Lily with my whole heart and wouldn’t change anything but the thought can’t help but creep into my head at the lonely hour of 2am.

They shared the same due date. Exactly a year apart, so technically speaking they could both have existed but in reality I wouldn’t have even thought of getting pregnant again that quickly. I even found out I was pregnant with them both on the same date, announced it on the same date. Too much to be a coincidence, right? I found that very comforting at the time, I felt like my angel was there. That they made it happen.

I’ve spent a long time trying to figure out what to say in this post and whether to post it at all. I have left this to the absolute last minute to write because I’ve been flitting between not posting today at all or just posting a random draft and neither felt right. Today felt like it needed a post that wasn’t some random review or Halloween post. Today needed to be about the baby I lost.

Having said that, I feel like whatever I write here won’t be good enough. I feel like no words are right. No words are good enough. I feel like nothing I write will come across how I want it to because translations of the heart are difficult at the best of times and I think a lot of us who has lost babies feel the same. The feelings are there but the words don’t do them justice.


They say that a person dies twice; once when their heart stops and once when their name is said for the last time. My baby didn’t have a name so what does that mean for them? Should I have named them? At the time I had people brushing my loss off as if it was nothing. I was made to feel weak and pathetic for letting it affect me. I never grieved properly because no one else seemed bothered, I couldn’t share my grief with anyone because no one else seemed to care. I was offered no kind of grief counselling despite having a breakdown to the extent it was contemplated late one night whether the best option for me would be to just section myself.

3 years later and I still haven’t had any grief counselling despite mentioning how this still affects me to countless mental health care professionals. When I first wrote about loss on my blog I wrote a short paragraph simply stating facts and said:

That was over 3 years ago now and I was so afraid that people would just forget. And they did. I’m the only one who actively remembers, who speaks about them. The grief is still there, not as raw now although certain dates open up the wounds but they’re healing now. As time goes on, the grief will tap you gently on the shoulder rather than scream into your ribcage, and wounds will begin to heal but grief is as strong as love and is something that will always be a part of you. 

No matter what we do, there will always be a hole where the babies we lost should be.

I bought myself a birthstone ring in secret before the miscarriage ended completely. I still don’t wear it. I’m too afraid of losing that too. It sounds so stupid written down but I couldn’t bear losing the only thing I feel connects me to when I was carrying my baby.

Over the past few years I’ve found ways to help me cope. I ended up painting my tiny bump photo with my battered old watercolours and framing it on my wall, it now hangs pride of place in my living room.

I have done these paintings for other people too. I think sometimes it helps when pregnancy tests and blurry bump photos are all you’ve got to remember your baby. I don’t charge for these, I just stumble across women and offer. If you have lost a baby and would like me to paint an illustration of your bump or pregnancy test, please get in touch. 

I find I also crochet hats for neonatal units and volunteer for the Octopus For A Preemie project although I’ve not been able to donate much lately because my wrist has been buggered.

I find doing things like this has helped me deal with the grief a little and I feel as if I’m doing something, I’m doing it in the memory of my angel whilst helping others.

Every year on 15th October, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, I light a candle in memory of my angels as part of the Wave Of Light
The Wave Of Light is where people, all over the world, light a candle at 7pm their time for one hour which creates a full day of flickering lights over the entire world. These lights may be small, but they are there. Just like our babies.

“A person is a person, no matter how small”
– Dr Seuss

I’m going to share some links:

// A blog post by Laura from Five Little Doves about the perfect moments who shares a collection of moments of joy amongst the sadness of baby and pregnancy loss – Our Prefect Moments

// A blog post of mine – What Not To Say To Someone Who Has Suffered a Miscarriage 

// If you can crochet or knit and what to get involved in Octopus For A Preemie then click here.

// Another blog post by Laura from Five Little Doves – Why Your Loss Will Never Compare To Mine

// A link to the Birthstone Ring I bought.

// For the pink and blue ribbon baby loss awareness pin click here.

// I have written about my story on my blog before, going in to quite a lot of detail and have gone on to start my pregnancy after a loss story too.

// SANDS – Stillbirth and neonatal death charity.

// Miscarriage Association


Until we meet again <3

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