Donate a book ($24.95) to Bloss, and then click on their 'Book Now' button.
October is International Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance month. To acknowledge this, we would love your support through the donation of a book to Bloss: Riverina Pregnancy & Baby Loss Support. The book is called 'You Could Have Been...' It's a children's picture book for adults - specifically bereaved parents. The purpose of the book is to provide an avenue for bereaved parents to read to their baby/child who died, and thus continue the bond that began from the moment of conception. Donating a book to Bloss will see it go directly to a local Riverina family who has had to say goodbye to their precious baby. Your gift costs a small amount, but will be invaluable to grieving parents hearts.
Happy Mother’s Day to a young mum in her 30’s. Three kids at home. All boys. Fourth on the way. She is in hospital, 40 weeks pregnant and in active labour. She’s in pain but has been here before. She knows the drill. Survive the labour and receive the ultimate prize. A beautiful, pink, squawking baby. Or so she thought.
This time something’s not right. The baby is here, but the room stays silent. It’s a girl. She has died.
The young mum is not allowed to see or touch; kiss or hold her baby. It’s the 1940’s and women are deemed ‘ill-equipped to handle’ the devastation of child-loss. So her baby is whisked away and she is told to “move on”. “Go home and try again”. “Better luck next time”.
Hello out there? Universe? Heaven? Whoever is holding the unearthed soul of my little boy! I am coming for you. I am coming to get my son back. I am DONE with you holding him. You had no right to take him in the first place. He belongs here. With my husband and I. He needs to come home and meet his new little brother. He’s missed too much already, and we’ve missed too much of him.
He would be 2 now. He’s meant to be running around our house – making a mess, playing with toys, squealing with joy. He’s meant to be at family events – playing with his cousins (and fighting with them too). Why does he have to miss out? Why do we have to miss out? Why do his cousins and aunties and uncles and grandparents have to miss out?
I used to think grief was just sadness. I now know it’s not. It’s all the other feelings too. All…at…the same…time.
Grief is the harsh, cruel pain of holding your stillborn son in your arms, whilst feeling utter pride and unbearable love for this perfect, yet breathless little life.
It’s your mind playing tricks on you; saying your baby is just sleeping. Then the overwhelming reality when you realise he’s not waking up.
I’m not a normal mum.
My husband and I have a son. Xavier Rocket Imrie. We are new parents. But we are new parents minus the normal joy of parenthood. Our little man was stillborn ten months ago.
The normal joy surrounding a baby’s birth involves squeals of excitement and happy-tears, followed by the standard questions:
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“What did you name him/her?”
“How much does he/she weigh?”