Blog 4 : A Dad in Grief : The Nickname & the Sign

Written on 27th February 2013

 

Blog 4 : A Dad in Grief : The Nickname & the Sign 

A person that has shown themselves to be a real true friend gave Mia a nickname. Now, I don't normally associate babies with having nicknames but this one fits perfectly, and I'll explain why, partly in this blog, but the theme will continue in future blogs. 

Mia was due on Saturday 2nd June. I remember the weekend vividly, it was the Queens Diamond Jubilee Weekend and it did nothing but rain for the whole time. I caught bits of the river pageant that was held on the Thames on the Sunday and remember thinking how miserable it looked. So it was with great surprise that when my wife went into labour on the Monday morning that the sun appeared to be shining on a dry day! Amazingly, the sunny dry weather lasted until about 4pm the following day, which was about an hour after we said goodbye to Mia. Cue the rain, cue the nickname, Little Miss Sunshine.  

We returned home the day after Mia left us. We had the opportunity to spend some more time with her before we left the hospital, to tell her how we felt. She looked absolutely perfect lying there in the Moses Basket, she looked like she was sleeping, like she would open her eyes at any minute and start to cry. She never did. Unlike the many families that left the hospital that afternoon with their precious new additions, we left with a small white memory box.  

It was on the drive home that we seen something that we will always consider a sign. Coming onto the M62 at the rocket, there, right in front of us was the most vivid rainbow I've ever seen. My wife and I looked at each other, held hands as I drove, cried, but knew that it was a message from our princess. She was looking over us on our drive home. The rainbow now holds a significant meaning to us, so much so that it holds pride of place on Mia's headstone. It may be ironic, it may be coincidence, it may just be that I notice them more now, but since that moment on the M62 I've never seen so many rainbows. I like to think of it not as irony though, I like to think that it's Mia, checking up on me, making sure I'm ok as the rainbows always seem to appear when I'm feeling down. She has a habit of showing herself when I need her the most, she can obviously see her Daddy hurting. I feel so happy when I see a rainbow now, but I can't look at one with a dry eye. 

 

They are tears of joy, yet they are underpinned by the deepest hurt you could ever imagine. 

Blog 3 : Becoming A Dad in Grief

Written on 26th February 2013

Blog 3 : Becoming A Dad in Grief 

Most people have a job that is an enjoyable experience, or at a minimum gives them money to pay the bills. I have one of those. However, I also have another job. It's a job that I didn't want, a job that I don't enjoy and it certainly doesn't provide any money. That job is being a dad in grief. 

It starts hard and doesn't really get any easier.  A dads first job is normally to send a happy "Welcome to the World" message to family and friends, unfortunately, my first job was to inform them that there were problems and we had a very sick little girl. Not only did I have a critically ill little princess, I also had a wife recovering from surgery who was given so much medicine she wasn't fully aware of what was going on. How do I tell my wife that our beautiful baby girl is fighting for her life?  

In 31 hours, Mia had lots of visits from our family and friends. As my wife was recovering from the operation, it was my job to greet people, brief them, take them to the neonatal ward to say hello to Mia. I am not complaining at having to do this, it comes with the job, but after telling the 10th set of visitors what had happened, and how ill my daughter was, it started to get quite draining. The 31 hours and 21 minutes ended when we said goodbye to our princess, my thoughts and feelings around that time will remain private. I slept that night, unlike my wife, who stayed awake all night crying with the midwife. The guilt I felt when I woke up that I had left my grieving wife alone all night was unbearable. 

For most people, 2 days after your baby is  born, you'd be thinking about going home, introducing them to their new surroundings, laying them down in their Moses basket, looking forward to taking them out in their shiny new pram. I did go home that morning, but it was to go and pack all those things away into their boxes to be returned to the shops. I needed to do this before bringing my wife home, I couldn't let her come home to that.  

Nothing prepares you for the things that you deal with in the hours and days after you lose your baby, adrenaline alone gets you through it. There is a registry office in the hospital. Registering your babies birth is a momentous occasion, it's the first time that you see your babies name in print officially, and that name you have chosen for your baby is with them forever. I made my appointment with the registrar, but this time around the appointment had 2 purposes, the registration of both the birth and the death of Mia Rose Greenall. Again, this is something that I didn't want my wife to have to go through, I felt I needed to protect her from even more heartache. I made the appointment alone, I couldn't put her through that after all she had just been through herself. I came back from the registry office to a visit from the family bereavement councillor. Hearing what you have to do to arrange a funeral for your new born baby is a conversation that I certainly never thought I'd be a part of.

 

It was at this point when I thought that all of a sudden I'd wake up from this dream, no, nightmare, and Mia would be lying in a cot at the side of her mum's bed. But I didnt wake up. I didn't wake up because I wasn't asleep. This was real, and I had to accept that, because I knew that this was with me for the rest of my life. On the 5th June 2013, a part of me died with Mia, not to be returned until we are reunited.

Blog 2 : Things People Say

Written on 23rd February 2013

Blog 2 : Things People Say 
 

It's common that people don't like talking about baby loss. Some people do talk about it and somehow know the right words to say. Some people just listen, allow me to talk and don't really say much in return, this probably helps more than anything. There are also people who try to offer words of help but the words just come out wrong. These are some of the things that have been said to me that are simply the most insulting words that you could say.

 "Things happen for a reason" - If this is the case, tell me the reason. Tell me why "God" decided to take my baby away and let scruffs and smack heads have multiple children that they don't even care for. If you can't give me the reason, don't say it.

"You'll be ok, you've got Kyran" - Yes, I have got Kyran, and he is perfect but does that mean that I'll be ok? Yes he helps me, but does that mean he makes up for the fact that I lost Mia? I should have 2 beautiful children with me, I've only got 1. 

Some people talk about Mia, but say things like "I wonder what she'd look like now" or "she'd be crawling/walking now". Please don't say things like that, these are the things that are constantly on my mind, the things that are always in my head when I sleep, the things that eat me up inside day in day out. It really would be better if you didn't say these types of things to me.

The important thing to remember is that if you think you're going to put your foot in it, that you're going to upset me, or that you'll say the wrong thing, it's probably best not to say it. But a hand on the shoulder and a genuine "How are you?" goes a lot further than you will probably imagine. The knowledge that you are still thinking about me is probably the most comforting thing to hold onto at the moment.

Blog 1 : My True Feelings

Written on 22nd February 2012

Blog 1 : My True Feelings 

It's nearly 9 months now since my princess, Mia Rose was taken away. She was a full term baby, there is no way this should have happened to her. I thought I would be starting to feel better by now, but there are still times when it feels like it happened only yesterday and it feels like my world could just collapse at any second. 

I feel a lot of anger at the moment, not at the medical staff or anything to do with the events around Mia's birth, but at the people that I feel have let me down in the time since. So many people are quick to offer condolences and support in the days and weeks after the event, but it doesn't take long for this to disappear. The phone calls stop, the text messages stop and you are pretty much left on your own to deal with the most difficult thing that any human will ever have to deal with. At a time that you feel you should be surrounded by all the people that you thought cared about you, you suddenly find yourself virtually alone, with only your own thoughts for company. If I look at my phone, I realise that I was probably in people's thoughts for a month, maybe two before being left to get on with it.  

It's a common problem that people don't like talking about baby loss, why this is I don't know. If more people talked about it, and so called friends hadn't disappeared, then I wouldn't find myself needing counselling, but unfortunately that is the situation I find myself in.  

There are also the people who think that everything is solved by going for a beer. If you knew me, or tried to even think about what I've been through, maybe you'd realise that the last thing I'd want to do is go out drinking. All I want is to feel that I'm in people's thoughts, and for every now and then, people to ask me how I am, and actually genuinely mean it. These moments are few and far between. 

Despite all the negative thoughts above, there have been some positives. There are certain people that we have become closer to as a result of this. There are certain people who just seem to have the right words, and are not ashamed to share them.  

One thing to remember, is that when you speak to me, text me, tweet me or facebook me, I know whether you are genuinely concerned or not. I am eternally grateful for having the genuine people around me, but refuse to waste any more time on the others.