This week is Infant Loss Awareness Week and I have been wanting to write this blog for ages and yet, because of the subject matter, I have been procrastinating.
I had an early miscarriage at around 9 weeks of my pregnancy before my second daughter Alana and although every situation is unique, losing a baby is quite simply devastating.
Over the years and through my work, I have met a number of women (and dads) who have lost a child.
Those who have struggled to conceive and then had miscarriage, after miscarriage, after miscarriage.
Those who have stroked, sung and talked to the baby they were carrying in their womb but then at a very late stage in pregnancy lost their baby.
Those who have had to give birth to their baby, knowing that the soul had already spread its angel wings and gone to heaven.
Those who have cradled their little ones in their arms in hospital or at home but whose babies, through a tragic hand of fate, whispered their last tiny breath in a life that was far, far too short.
I cannot possibly claim that I have walked in their shoes. But, as I sit here writing this blog, the tears are streaming down my face because I feel their pain, which must be amplified by about a million.
The thing is, that from the minute that we discover that blue line on a white stick, we become a mother. We carry the miracle of new life inside us and even if it is not yet the size of a grain of rice, this is already our baby.
Of course, the bond increases as our pregnancy progresses, but I must confess that from time to time, especially as I look at the stars at night, I do think about the little soul who might have been. But then again, if that baby had been born, I probably wouldn’t have had Alana. I know that for many of the parents who I have met who have lost a child, they too have been blessed with more children.
But still the memory of that angel child burns brightly. The pain is still there. The tears still flow if we allow ourselves to re-visit the past, which we only ever do in the quietest and most private of moments.
So now, I will stop and have only one request. That we all take a moment to pause and reflect on those babies who have gone to heaven; that we take a moment to honour their parents for their courage, their tears, their pain and the unimaginable journey they have had to make.
And finally, that we take a moment to count our blessings and to hold and cuddle our babies (big and small), very, very tight.
As part of the work of the MamaBabyBliss Charitable Foundation, we aim to support bereaved parents and families. As part of Infant Loss Awareness Week the Foundation is donating £150 and 20% of all our product sales to The Lullaby Trust http://www.lullabytrust.org.uk/LThome , a charity dedicating to providing support to bereaved parents.