EDD 31 July 2015

It is the eve of our would-have-been due date. How the past weeks and months have flown.

With this particular consultant I am pretty sure we would have been induced; most likely Tuesday 28th July, as he works in the maternity on a Tuesday.

He or she would have been born either that day or the next...but most likely that day.

What if...

We'll never know why it happened. Likewise, we'll never forget.

It is not possible to compare these two types of losses. It is impossible to say one is worse than the other. They are...different. Certainly, they are received differently. One is grieved intensely and more openly. The other is grieved more reservedly and privately...There is a reluctance to talk.

But when a pregnancy is lost, there are so many questions:

Why?
When we can we try again?
How long will it take?
Will it happen again?

And you set out...finding your way and learning lessons you would not have learnt if it weren't for this. You suddenly think back and wonder how difficult it must have been for others you know who have faced the same and you gain an appreciation of how they kept their faith through it all. While you might have been aware of their trouble, you only then develop a different, deeper type of understanding. It's a pity really - You might have been a better friend to them if you had this understanding all along.

Weeks and then months tick by...Nothing.

I don't know why but many who have had miscarriages are eager to be pregnant again by the time the original due date rolls around at the very least...myself very much included. I guess we think it might make the loss a little easier to deal with.

If that does not happen...well...there is little we can do about it but it does feel like life is adding insult to injury. I mean...that just isn't supposed to happen. Plus, we're a fierce fertile bunch on either side of the family, after all! :p

But such is life...It'll take however long it will take and we can't do anything but try...but man (and in my head I am saying this with an American twang like our 3 year old does), it can be a lonely road.

Pregnancy loss and infertility are two things that just aren't talked about much...and fair enough, some prefer not to but there are others who possibly wish they were able to share their worries and insecurities more. I wonder though how many couples plod along unbeknownst to sometimes even their nearest and dearest...

Tonight I will spare a thought for them and hope that eventually, their dream will come true. I will light a candle for our two little ones in heaven...Sproggy and Baby O'Loughlin.

I will also give the best husband of them all a big hug...because he's been wonderful at helping us deal with all those curve-balls life has been throwing at us and makes me see the many ways in which we are blessed.

Thank you! xxx

Leaving On A Jet Plane

The day had finally arrived...

The day I would kiss Eoghan good night knowing that I would be leaving him for two whole nights after that. Not only would I be spending these two consecutive nights away from him but I would be spending them in another country.

When we spoke about a girly weekend away to somewhere in Europe back in January, it was kinda booked before the realisation hit of what exactly it would mean for me - and it was months away still.
The months flew and the time was here last Thursday night.

In all of Eoghan's three and a half years, I had only ever spent two nights away from him. Once staying in a hotel literally five minutes away from his grandparents and another night down in Kerry to see comedian Dara O'Briain. Since he was born, I had never spent any more time away from him - let alone leave the country without him.

Perhaps surprisingly for me, it was not as bad as I might have thought it would be. There were times when I was nervous - during take off and landing or the time I knew Eoghan would be attending his first swimming lesson (my imagination had no limits when it came to thinking up freak accidents involving planes and pools) - but overall I really, really enjoyed spending time with one of my longest and best friends; catching up, relaxing and soaking up the sun in the south of France. We don't get to do that much between family, work, living in different parts of the country and..well..life! :) She's been a rock, a howl and a true friend in every one of the more than 15 years I've known her. Thanks hon! xx

One of my biggest niggling regrets about my trip to Germany in January 2011 was that I had not skyped Pat and Patrick that Monday night. Between only just arriving, the internet being pants and being a grumpy traveler, I told Pat we'd leave it til the next evening. By that time I was on my way back because Patrick had passed away in his sleep at lunch time.

So, of course I was keen to make sure I'd get some face time with the boys in the evening - and we did. As always, it rarely turns out the way you imagine: Eoghan smiling at the laptop, telling me about this day...Nope! He was wearing his best grumpy pants. And to top it all off, he did not even want to come and pick me up from the airport. Came the complaint from Junction 14 Mayfield:

"I don't wanna go to the airport. Mammy can take the bus!"

So much for that lovely picture I had in my head of Eoghan running up to me at Arrivals...showering me with hugs and kisses... :)

I think this was a good experience for both Pat and I; to see that we can do this without the worst happening.

You never know...we might one day even feel strong enough to leave the country without him for a short trip somewhere...

But probably not too soon!

A Failure...

... as a mother; because two of my children died and I could not prevent it.

Yes, neither was my fault and I know I should be grateful for the child we have. I am! But that does not diminish the guilt and heartache I feel over the other two...What was and what could have been.

... as a woman; because it's been five months and counting and despite everything being "normal", I can't seem to get pregnant. 

What's wrong with me? What is "normal" anymore? There was a time I could trust my instincts when it came to my body. Now, nothing makes sense. Everything is different. Little rhyme, even less reason.

... as a person; because I ought to be able to rise above all that and take it as it comes but I can't always.

I ought to be patient; to give it time; to realise there are others worse off; that our time will come again. I know all that and for the most part, I am patience personified (at least by my usual standards) and it is not what I need to hear when once again it did not happen even though we did everything we can. When my body leads me on for days (Hey, we're actually late!), with symptoms and twinges very familiar to before...But in the end, again, nothing... I need to be sad, hugged, vent and possibly fed a stiff drink! And be told that yes, life's an awful wench altogether today.

I feel so betrayed, out of sync with my self, not knowing me anymore right now.

With every passing month I feel I have less and less to go by as to what is normal for me. Like...what is "late" now?
With every passing month I wonder if this is it...if  maybe we have reached our allotted number of pregnancies and aren't meant to have more.

Who knows.

Every passing month I allow myself to feel disappointed for a while; then dust myself off and continue to try and take it as it comes...enjoying our family as it is now and having the laughs with a wired 3 year old.

Because, ya know...

Who knows.

A Time of Hope

We wrote this piece for the paper almost a year ago now, to try and help people gain an insight into what it is like to live with the sudden loss of a child.

http://www.independent.ie/lifestyle/health/some-people-dont-know-what-to-say-thats-ok-because-what-do-you-say-when-there-are-no-words-30157960.html

Another year has passed. Easter Sunday will be Patrick's birthday. He would be 6 this year. Eoghan asked me if we were going to bring cake up to Heaven and have it with Patrick. I told him that unfortunately, it is not possible to visit there but that we'd have the cake here. He responded that he knew how...All we had to do was go into his rocket and he'd get us there. If only it was that easy! :)

So, we'll have cake for him right here and an Easter Egg hunt in the garden. Easter is a time of hope and we know he'll be with us in our hearts.

We're busy preparing for not just one but two fundraising events in aid of First Light, the Irish charity that has been offering us so much support, counseling and kind words in the past 4 years. They look after suddenly bereaved parents like us all across the country.

May 3rd, we'll take part in the 10K stretch of the Great Limerick Run like we have been doing since 2012.
May 10th we're organising First Light's Limerick "Mile in Memory", a short 1 mile walk to remember not only Patrick but also all the other children gone too soon.

http://www.mycharity.ie/event/stroll_for_sproggy_in_aid_of_first_light
https://www.facebook.com/events/460372844117083/

First Light offers a first ray of light at a time when you think there is going to be pretty much only darkness for the rest of your life. They help you see that, with time, you will learn to live with this loss. While the pain will never go away and you never get over something like this, the initial rawness will ease...You will adjust to your new normal though it will always feel as surreal as it did when it first happened. Odd but true...at least for us.

Happy Birthday/Easter to my darling Sproggy-pops. Hope you are having a right hooly up in heaven and lots of cake. We miss ya down here...always. xxx

St. Patrick's Day

I guess St. Patrick's Day will always be a special day for us to remember Patrick.
There is very little I can now do for my forever little boy. But there are some things I can do.
This year, I thought it would be nice to get some shamrock plants and bring them out to his grave.

When I transplanted them from their little pot into a bigger one, I noticed this year's first butterfly sitting on the rim, flapping its wings in what I am choosing to interpret as approval. A pretty looking one he was too.

Eoghan helped me to gently move him outside to a safer spot and we hope he has been enjoying the sunshine of the past few days out there somewhere.

The day, unlike many a previous St. Patrick's Day, was a glorious one with plenty of sunshine. While most of the time I do not tend to linger long at Patrick's resting place because more often than not at this time of year it is drizzly, miserable, drafty and cold, it was actually bathed in sunshine and warm. We put down his pot of shamrock and brought another one to his great-grandmothers grave also.

It is only those small little things that are left for us now...To let him know he is thought about and always always missed.

His little brother has taken to talking about wanting to take a rocket into space to visit Patrick and Holy God up in heaven.

I wish it was that simple...

Miss you lots, Sproggy-pops.

Life After Birth

I came across this little philosophical discussion between twin babies "in utero" (I know I know but bear with me) on social media lately and it really spoke to me.

In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?” 

The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”

“Nonsense” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”

The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.”

The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.”

The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.”

The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover if there is life, then why has no one has ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.”

The first replied “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists then where is She now?”

The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of Her. It is in Her that we live. Without Her this world would not and could not exist.”

Said the first: “Well I don’t see Her, so it is only logical that She doesn’t exist.”

To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and you really listen, you can perceive Her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.” - Útmutató a Léleknek

Whatever you want to call it: God, Mother Nature, The Universe...I want to believe we are part of something more than just this one existence in this, our physical human form. We may not be able to see or fully understand it, but it is there nonetheless. 

Maybe I'm a bit strange but this story strengthens my sometimes wavering belief that yes, one day I will see Patrick again. That, perhaps, he is around us; with us; minding us - but in a state of being that we are unable to see with these eyes.

Only because I am unable to see his spirit or energy, does not mean it does not exist around me.

Call me cracked but if this thought makes his absence from our physical lives more bearable, then I happily spend the rest of my life cracked...

Dear Sproggy - 2015

As your 4th anniversary creeps closer and closer, I'd like to share these Ed Sheeran lyrics that remind me of you.

It's just another night and I'm staring at the moon
I saw a shooting star and thought of you
I sang a lullaby by the waterside and knew
If you were here I'd sing to you
You're on the other side
As the skyline splits in two
I'm miles away from seeing you
I can see the stars from America
I wonder, do you see them, too?

So open your eyes and see 
The way our horizons meet
And all of the lights will lead
Into the night with me
And I know these scars will bleed
But both of our hearts believe
All of these stars will guide us home

I do believe that somewhere our horizons; our realms; do meet in a way. I know you are never too far away ... from us, our thoughts, our memories. And I sometimes wonder, as I look up, if you too, wherever you are, are looking up at those stars. Maybe you're even right beside me at that moment.

While your leaving undoubtedly has left us with scars that will bleed a little from time to time, we find hope in the belief that one day we'll meet again. These scars are now part of who we have become; we would not be the same people without them. They've made us stronger, yet more vulnerable. Sad, yet determined to savour the joy life continues to give us every day. Without them, we may not have the same appreciation for all the good things in our lives...including each and every day we got to spend with you.

You are now on the other side...and until the day we meet again, we hold you close in our hearts and keep your memory alive. We look up to the skies and search for your star, just nestling in under Orion's belt, and we know we are not alone. Your star lights up our night...and the memory of the time we had with you, lights up our days.

With lots and lots of love,
Mammy, Daddy and Eoghan...