#waveoflight

Baby Summers Sanford… 09/08/25

You’re the only light.. left in the room🌹🌙

There seems to be a National day (or month) for everything….you name it, there is a day for it….Wear Red Day, National Yorkshire Pudding Day and Smile Day, to name but a few.  There are some really random days such as Ice Cream for Breakfast Day, World Octopus Day, National Hug a Bear Day (I mean, where are you going to find a bear and how dangerous is that!?) and Towel Day which, apparently is celebrated every year on 25 May as a tribute to the author Douglas Adams. On this day, fans openly carry a towel with them, as described in Adams' The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, to demonstrate their appreciation for the books and the author.   Some of my favourite days are Eat What you Want Day, World Gin Day, World Chocolate Day and Global Champagne Day (hmmmm, I’ve just realised my favourite days centre around food and alchohol...oops!) which happened to be yesterday! Shame I realised too late! If you want to check out when any of these days happen or see what else you can celebrate, take a look here: Awareness Days in United Kingdom in 2021 | There is a Day for That!

The month of October, in the land of National days, is a poignant one for me and has a handful of subjects that have touched my life in a profound way – It’s Breast Cancer Awareness month, a Wave of Light – Baby Loss Awareness week and last weekend was World Mental Health Day, something that is currently touching my life in an all consuming, heart breaking way with one of my nearest and dearest.  I’m not ready to talk about it just yet but I hope that one day I will be able to and maybe it will help someone else going through similar.

I’ve spoken about my breast cancer diagnosis on here previously and I’m pleased to report that I’m well in that regard.  A subject that I don’t think I have touched on before are the miscarriages I experienced in the late 90’s.  Every year, when “Wave of Light” happens, it gives me time to pause and reflect on that time in my life when I so desperately wanted a second baby, but 2 very complicated miscarriages and health concerns meant it just wasn’t happening. Both miscarriages were “missed” miscarriages meaning we found out at the 12 week scan when there was no heartbeat and both miscarriages weren’t without their complications.  I almost had to have a hysterectomy after the first one due to haemorrhaging and a suspected partial molar pregnancy and the second being a suspected ectopic pregnancy to start with, along with a laparoscopy and trips to the hospital for blood tests every other day.  

At the end of the day, no matter how a miscarriage presents, it’s the “loss” of your baby, a loss of your hopes and expectations and it can be devastating. I hesitate when I use the word “loss” as if  my babies were something that could be found again; as if I was careless enough to lose them through some fault of my own.  But, right now I can’t think of another word that I want to use and it’s a word that is more easily accepted by others than the word “death”.  I could write for ages on this subject but I think the two pieces of prose I wrote soon after each miscarriage, probably explain the depth of feelings better than I can now, over 20 years after they happened. Mind you, the depth of sadness that I never got to meet those 2 little babies of mine, can still feel as raw as the day it happened.  Grief is a funny thing, it’s not linear and there is no pattern and despite what some people may say or think, you never “get over it” but instead learn to “live with it”. I will sign off now and leave you those pieces of prose to read at your leisure - if you feel like it.  It might be too much to read it and that’s ok. Please know that if you have been through this or anything like it I am sending you a huge hug and lots of love. Be kind to yourself.

A Tribute to Our Baby (written 22/10/98)

Last night we lost our baby. I was nearly 12 weeks pregnant and the baby had died about a week before. We found out at the routine 12 week scan and were completely unprepared. We will never forget how still our baby looked on the screen and the look on the sonographers face as she told us she couldn’t find our baby’s heartbeat. I had to wait two days before they did an ERPC to remove everything from my uterus. I will never be able to explain to anyone how it felt knowing that I had a dead baby inside me, a baby who was wanted so much and who we so wanted to be alive. During the last few weeks since knowing I was pregnant, we had begun to dream about the baby and make plans for it. We opened a corner of our hearts to make room for it, and we had planned a brother or sister for Ashley. We began to wonder whether it would be a boy or a girl and joked about whether it would be as heavy as Ashley and whether it would come early or late. We had started to think about names for the baby and how exciting it would be to have a new baby in the house. This baby began to fill a corner of our hearts with thoughts, dreams and love. We wanted and planned for this baby, we wanted the age gap to be “just right” and we were thrilled the baby was due in May, what a lovely time of year for a baby to be born, not too hot, not too cold, just right. As my uterus grew so did our love and excitement. Although our short-lived dreams will never come to fruition, and although it was less than 2 months that we knew about this baby, our hearts had started to grow and fill and our baby was very real and already a part of our family. But, we will never hold our baby. We will never get to see a first smile, nor will we hear “Dada” from its lips. He will never get to be a footballer, or she a writer. Our precious unborn child has been called into the ranks of angels before ever being born. We like to think that God needed him or her more than we did here on earth and we like to think that our Nan’s and Grandad’s and Chris in heaven are looking after our baby now, holding our baby in their arms, keeping him or her warm and cuddled. Please don’t tell us that it was “for the best”. Our grief is real. Please don’t tell us that there was obviously something wrong with the baby and it is better now than later. We know all this, it goes round our heads all day and we look for reasons why. Please don’t tell us we can try again. Of course we know that, but we must be given time to heal. Time to think about this little angel. Time to mourn. Just tell us you are sorry and that our family is in your thoughts and prayers. That’s all. Though our baby may be in heaven, we have an empty corner in our hearts. With love always to our unborn but not unloved baby. 

Mummy, Daddy and Ashley 22 October 1998

Hidden Grief

By Tracy (written in 2000)

“I feel like a blank playing card”

That’s all that kept coming into my mind

As I lay in my hospital bed

After they had taken my baby from me

As I lay there I kept thinking

Why me, why again, why us?

Why has it happened again

Why did our baby die

We never got to hold our baby

We never got to see our baby

I didn’t even get to enjoy the later

Most wonderful part of pregnancy

I waited with the nurse

To go into the operating theatre

“It won’t always be like this”, she said

“I know what it’s like”, “It’s the hidden grief isn’t it?”

Her words struck a chord

And as tears tumbled down my cheek

She squeezed my hand

She knew, she really knew

I should speak to my friends

But I can’t

What is there to say

That wasn’t said when it happened before

I am overwhelmed by all the kind messages

But only those who have experienced the pain

Really know

How I feel

I know I must count my blessings; I have many

But I still want our baby

I have 2 angels now, but what I really want

Is to hold a baby that is ours, to keep

I will continue my life

For I have so much to be thankful for

I will be a stronger person for all that has happened

Eventually

And as I go about each day

The grief will be hidden, hidden away

For it is a grief

That is so little understood

#waveoflight #babylossawarenessweek2021