After Anabelle

As you already know; I'm not watching OBEM. Although I might as well be, everything I would need to know about each episode is plastered over Facebook and Twitter.

Each week my news feed is flooded with 'gaspy' type status updates. You know; the sort of status where the birth has been amazing, or terrifying or someone has been holding their breathe and then relieved that the baby is ok. 

It may just be me. I'll add a disclaimer in here; not having watched the actual programme I may be getting the wrong end of the stick, but I'm getting the distinct impression that childbirth is being sensationalised by Channel 4; and that I think is very irresponsible. 

I know I know, they are always going to choose the births that are a little bit different, that little bit more dramatic, to make 'good' television. But still. Is it really needed? Birth is precious. Each baby a little miracle. 

I fear OBEM is becoming less the documentary it was and more reality TV. 

So  how about them covering some real reality? 

Last night on my Twitter feed somebody posed the question if OBEM would ever show the reality of stillbirth.  The reply from one was quick; God I hope not, she said. I can't imagine anyone wanting to see that, no woman would want to relive it.  

When tackled about the opportunity to raise awareness and save babies lives? The question came would it really raise awareness, or would it scare? The show has plenty of issues already, apparently. Such as epidurals, inductions, hospital births, bottle feeding etc... 

Really? Really? These are considered issues? I'm aghast. The ignorance annoys me. 

You know what; she is probably right. Of course no-one would want to see that, and the 'issues' OBEM do cover they don't explain well so I'm told. But do you think we wanted it to happen to us? Do you think we wanted our daughter to die? Why is it ok for so many people to bury their heads in the sand? Ignore baby death because it is too big a taboo to tackle? Because it makes you uncomfortable? For goodness sake; a moment of your fear, a moment feeling uncomfortable is nothing compared to the lifetime of fear and pain bereaved parents are left with. 

Why is it ok for the majority of our population to be ignorant to the fact 17 babies die every single day? 

Handled sensitively, appropriately and with an expectionally brave family OBEM or similar could do a lot of good. To raise awareness of a vastly overlooked statistic in our society. To raise awareness of the other side of midwifery. To raise awareness of the importance of monitoring baby movements, how reduce risks to your baby, to empower women to seek help as soon as they feel something isn't quite right; instead of so many women feeling like they are bothering their midwife/doctor/maternity units with their worries. Why are we a culture of not causing a fuss? 

In reality Channel 4 is probably not the place to do this, they are characterised by sensationalist documentaries; but they could educate about important issues on OBEM instead of making it all about their ratings. Because I tell you what; epidurals, induction, hostpial births, bottle feeding etc are no where near in rank; consequently at the end of the day none of that matters.

It does not matter I had an induction, or an epidural because my son is alive. It does not matter where he was born because my son is alive. It does not matter how he is fed because my son is alive. 

My son is alive; that is the only bit of any birth that matters. 

A year ago Sunday the Pastor's wife came and told me that we'd been on her mind. She said she felt led to pray for us, our next pregnancy and our new baby. We weren't pregnant yet, she didn't know we were TTC again; I hadn't told her. But the timing was amazing, I was quite bowled over. 

She prayed, and then the next day, Valentine's Day to be precise, we conceived Alexander. Of course we didn't know it yet, but I would get my BFP two weeks later. 

Call it coincidence if you like; but to me he was an instant answer to those prayers. Prayed into existence; God gave us our son. The pregnancy was not going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination, the scares are well documented. But 8 months later, after being conceived on the 14th of the month he was also born on the 14th of the month. Quite special. 

So our little boy has existed for a year. How amazing is that?!  Maybe a little bit too much information there too though! 

Our little Alexander is 4 months old today; where is the time going so quickly? I'll tell you what he's been up to for the last month when I post next time! He's been a busy boy again! 

A few days ago I said that my faith needed a boot up the bum. Last night I came across another baby loss blog and I think it was the boot up the bum I'd asked for. Fran writes over at Small Bird Studios. She writes so eloquently about her life after loss, and what was so awe inspiring to me was how beautifully her faith came across, despite it all. 

I've remarkably failed in that; because my faith is often wobbly. 

Too wobbly for me to write about it when I'm in the midst of a constant personal battle. I know I believe wholeheartedly and I know God is on my side but I still haven't shaken away my anger at God enough to find true peace with my daughter's absence. I've written about my anger before; and I still believe God is big enough to take it. Somehow in time it will all be moulded into something else, that is my hope, something more positive. Alexander is evidence of that; because now mixed in with my occasional uprising of anger at God is true thankfulness to Him too. I have been truly blessed with my boy. 

I don't understand why He needed my Anabelle. Maybe peace will not come until my own death, maybe then the reason for her absence will be revealed. I believe when I die we will be reunited, I will hold my daughter again. I don't know if she'll still be a baby or if she'll have grown up but I like to think He saved her; saved her from an illness we and the Dr's couldn't see. Sometimes thinking that brings a slither of comfort, even if I do not know it to be true. 

My baby loss blog isn't special; well it is special and unique of course to Anabelle, but so many mothers write about their life after the death of their child. So many grieving parents trying to make sense of it all. My blog roll is quite full of people experiencing their own journey such as mine. Small Bird however has inspired me to try and make hope shine through more regularly on mine.

Hebrews 11 v 1 (NIV)

'Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.' 

I'm really enjoying joining in Mummy From The Heart's weekly bloghop. Reasons to be Cheerful. I'm two weeks behind everyone else with my reasons to be cheerful but 2012 is already marking such a difference in me. Last year I just couldn't find it within me to focus on my reasons to smile; this year I'm determined to appreciate my blessings, because there are many. 

This week Xander had his third set of infant immunisations; and boy did he feel them this time. The first two sets he hardly made a peep, this week he howled. The next day the sniffles started (related/unrelated? who knows!) and now he has a full blown cold; his first one. He sounds chesty and has an awful barking cough. My poor baby, but even he is managing to remain (for the most part!) cheerful! 

This week I have been cheerful because: 

 So as you can see; the main reason to be cheerful this week? My gorgeous boy! 

I've been struggling to articulate this post for a few days. 

I'm afraid I'm becoming one of those permanently neurotic mother's. Rational trying to beat away irrational thoughts all of the time. Once again my boy has appeared dead in my dreams. Sunday night. He was floating face down in a swimming pool, drowned. Jon dived in to get to him but he was already dead. Limp and lifeless in the water. 

I know the trigger; Monday morning is swimming day. We've really been enjoying swimming, Alexander loves the water, its been fun. Not once in my conscience thought has it entered my mind this activity could hurt him, kill him. My dreams had other ideas. I woke up short of breath and almost panicking, it seemed so real. Of course it wasn't real; how would an almost 4 month old baby ever be left unattended in the water for something so awful to happen. I would never do that, why did I dream that? 

What is wrong with me? I'm like a woman obsessed.This has to stop surely? How long will these waves of all engulfing fear continue? Will I fear every scenario, statistic, risk to this extent for the rest of his life? 

There are fine lines between normal Mummy fears to bereaved Mummy fears, to verging almost on needing to get a grip.  I'm trying very hard not to be a cotton wool Mummy but I think I'm heading towards needing to get a grip. 

Something beyond awful happened to us; our daughter died. I'm having another of those moments where I can't comprehend the enormity of it all. Anabelle's death is going to colour everything for the rest of our lives, how we react, how we think and how we parent. A massive rippling effect on how I now perceive risks compared with what the actual risk might be. Risks are always magnified now. 

The risk of my daughter not coming home was 1 in 200. Small. I was considered a low risk pregnancy, I was only 25, I didn't fit into any of the high-risk of stillbirth catergories. But I was that 1.  It always feels entirely plausible that I could be that 1 in a statistic again. The doom and gloom-est in me has an awful habit of jumping to and imagining the worst case scenario in everything; irrational often wins.  Why can't I just believe my son is here to stay and that nothing awful is going to happen to us again? 

My faith needs a boot up the backside. 

I agree entirely with recent comments on my blog.. I need a risk management plan surrounding Alexander and other aspects in our lives; or maybe more precisely a fear management plan. I just don't even know where to start.  

The moses basket's days are numbered. Which means the cot and Alexander's own room looms ever closer. 

The date is set. A countdown to the 14th February when he will be 4 months old. You know me; I have to have a plan, something I can work towards. So we made a plan; set a date. 

I'm not ready and I know I won't be ready on the 14th. But it has to happen. The cot will not fit in our room and we've pushed the moses basket to its absolute limit. Of course he's not bothered and he sleeps beautifully in there, but he has no growing room left. The time has come. I don't know what else we can do. 

His own room; he doesn't seem big enough, my tiny boy. Although now enormous in his moses, he is too small for his own room and looks tiny in his cot. 

It terrifies me we have to move him when the official 'cot-death' advice is to sleep in the same room as parents for the first 6 months. He will only be 4 months old to the day, 3 months old adjusted age; this move is frightening me a lot. I'm getting so anxious that we are increasing his risk of SIDS and our risk of becoming bereaved parents for the second time. 

It is so comforting him sleeping next to me; being able to look up and see the green flashing light of his breathing monitor confirming he is still alive, being able to reach my hand over to feel his chest rise and fall, hearing his soft little baby snores. 

Watching him on a monitor just won't be the same. I know every morning I'll be opening the door with bated breath praying the breathing monitor hasn't failed to alarm when it should have. 

Somebody tell me this will be ok...